The Justice Department registered Gulfstream 550 touched down gracefully on the numbers at Solaris County Regional. The moonlight obscured by only a few silver clouds glinted off its regal white, blue and gold exterior. The thrust reversers stowed and the plane taxied over to a small assembly waiting outside of one of the large vacant hangars. Two Customs Service P-3 Orion aircraft sat abreast, parked nose to tail of each other, one with a large radar dome on its back, both sporting Customs’ signature blue band over the fuselage. A very unpretentious motorcade of marked City vehicles was visible and three more cars approached from the gate.
Paige watched from an oval window just in front of the wing. Though the plane was far and away the most lavish machine she had ever been aboard, it had been a long flight from Delta City International. They’d stopped twice to pick up three more Marshals that were to be part of the operation. She assumed one of them would be her future partner, but no one really talked business, just chit-chat about sports, family life and riding high on the tax-payer dime. Her father would have a coronary if he knew how much money the imperial US Government had spent to taxi them around all day. She smirked a little at the thought. She’d wanted very badly to stretch out on the couch in the aft cabin, but such an action would have hardly been professional considering her company. She sighed a little knowing she likely wouldn’t get another chance at it.
The mayor’s motorcade hardly looked fitting for such a city of great renown. All white with what appeared to be aged decals of the city’s seal on each door. As she came down the stairs she noticed that each one looked to have only recently been hastily washed. She’d heard the mayor to be of exceptional modesty, a man of the people as it were. Sol City rejected the assistance of the Justice Department many times before. However, it seemed recent events had caused even this mayor to succumb to the dark temptation of Uncle Sam.
A trio of passengers got out of the lead car in the line. Paige recognized two of them from the briefings on the flight over, a representative from Customs and another agent from ATF. They’d both landed a few days before making the Marshal Service the last on the scene and sealing their responsibility for the buying of drinks later in the evening. The third man was her direct Supervisor, Art Stirling, a man who she’d only spoken with over video conference once she’d received her reassignment to his area of the District which primarily consisted of Sol-City itself. He seemed cordial enough and had been a Supervisor for many years, which to Paige, meant he must’ve been a good-type. If he were useless, like most, they would have promoted him long ago.
Handshakes and greetings went around. Mayor Makara seemed to be a combination of emotions, but in Paige’s view, humility and embarrassment seemed to be the most prevalent. His handshake was weak and he barely looked her in the eye when they were introduced. His small delegation, which didn’t seem to include anyone from the Police Department, was no different.
Small people in big positions. She thought. He tried to be Sol City’s “friend” rather than its leader and the city’s more unscrupulous residents had thanked him by running roughshod over their citizen-mayor. She’d read the report about the helicopter breaking all kinds of FAA regs a few days ago. The Transportation Department was still in an uproar over that debacle.
“P-3’s start flying 0600 tomorrow,” The Customs rep said after all the introductions were concluded. The level of awkwardness was evident between the mayor and his entourage. They’d summoned a monster that they could not control and at this point had no way of calling back. “We’ll have the ocean-ways and the port covered, ATF has been on the ground for a while so Marshals just need to get in touch with the field agents before we really start tightening the noose.”
What was also evident was everyone’s desire to get the formalities out of the way and hit the closest bar for a little soiree before bed. Paige was thinking of ways she could get out of it, but nothing acceptable was coming to mind. Art broke in, “Alright, my guys… and gals,” He said giving Paige a nod. “We’ve got our territory staked out at City Hall in Central Point. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Paige relaxed in a gentle sigh of relief and glanced up the runway in the distance. There were a couple of Navy planes, a big freighter and smaller propeller driven aircraft taxiing. The nigh breeze drifted dryly cutting a slight chill through her jacket. She was ready to scope out whatever crashpad the Service had cooked up for her and get some rest.
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