FanStory.com - Spirited Justice Chap 6by Begin Again

Background
"Beauty, Brawn, or Brains" was a global platform showcasing women's diverse talents, yet murders, accidents, and deceit haunted the pageant worldwide. Was there a common link or merely coincidence?

Carlos Hernandez's private jet began its descent into the bustling airport. The runway lights twinkled below like scattered diamonds against the inky night. Inside, the cabin was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engines. Angelo sat by the window, staring at the approaching city lights, lost in his thoughts.

"Welcome back to the States, Angelo. We'll be landing in just a few minutes. Hope you enjoyed your trip."

Angelo sighed. It wasn't the trip he'd expected, especially with Carlo's abrupt send-off. Any other time, the two men would have enjoyed a steak dinner followed by hours of the best wines, liquor, and entertainment money could buy. But today, it had been different.

The meeting had been brief and unsettling. Angelo couldn't shake his unease as he departed the Villa. A coldness had replaced the usual banter and camaraderie. Angelo couldn't put his finger on it, but he was sure Carlos was hiding something, and this uncertainty was starting to gnaw at him.

The jet touched down smoothly, the tires skimming the runway before striking the tarmac firmly. The cabin lights brightened as the plane taxied to a halt.

As the door opened and the cool night air rushed in, Angelo took a deep breath, thanked the pilot, and descended the stairs. His thoughts were focused on Naomi and Carlo's underlying threats to silence her. Angelo could deal with dirty work, the kind that involved intimidation and coercion, but no one had ever pressured him to kill anyone. It left a foul taste in his mouth, especially since the someone was Naomi, a woman he cared about.

After a brief stop at the airport's private customs facility, Angelo weaved through the crowded terminal. He could skip the baggage area since he'd only brought a small carry-on. His eyes scanned the sea of faces, half out of habit and half with a futile attempt to clear his mind. Suddenly, a familiar face caught his attention.

"Jose?" After his initial surprise, everything clicked in Angelo's mind. He'd thought it strange that the pilot hadn't conversed with him during the flight, and now it made sense. Jose had been in the cockpit, but they had kept his presence a secret. But why all the secrecy? What was Jose hiding?

Jose was engaged in an animated conversation with a small group of men, a rather odd mix. Two middle-aged men wore expensive, tailored suits and spoke with authority. One man, younger than the others, wore jeans with a dark blazer. It had an elegant lapel pin featuring the crest of Germany's Heidelberg University and words - semper apertus, their motto, embroidered on the pocket. His striking blue eyes, blonde hair, and square jaw screamed German descent. On the other hand, the remaining man's muscular frame and numerous tattoos under his leather vest labeled him trouble.

Angelo ordered a cup of coffee from the coffee shop while keeping an eye on his friend. Jose looked different from the last time he'd seen him at the Villa. He appeared tense, his usual playboy demeanor replaced by a look of unease. Choosing a vantage point near the cafe, partially hidden by a cluster of travelers waiting for their orders, Angelo watched and wondered.

What are you up to, Jose? Does your father know you have come to the States, and who are these men? The mystery of Jose's sudden appearance and his companions piqued Angelo's curiosity, leaving him with more questions than answers.
*****
A master at materializing into a perfectly normal woman, Eleanor exited the bathroom stall and checked the mirror. She smoothed her blouse, adjusted her hair, and took a deep breath before entering the bustling terminal.

"Okay, Dylan, where are you?" she asked herself eagerly. She'd been elated to learn that Charles's nephew would have a short layover in Chicago and expressed his desire to meet up with her. Crowds weren't her thing, but she'd make do for Dylan.

As she navigated the crowded terminal, she focused on finding Dylan and overlooked Angelo until it was too late. She bumped into him gently, her hand brushing against his arm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Eleanor exclaimed, stepping back with an apologetic smile. "I wasn't paying attention."

Angelo looked at her, slightly startled but quickly recovering his composure. "No problem," he said with a polite nod.

Eleanor gave a distracted nod and continued on her way, but the brief contact left her with a strange sensation — a jolt of unease that she couldn't quite place. Shaking off the feeling, she refocused on her mission to find Dylan. Spotting him near a book stand, she hurried toward him.

Dylan, engrossed in his phone, looked up and smiled warmly. "Eleanor!" His smile was genuine. "I wasn't sure you'd make it. Charles sends his love."

A warm sensation covered Eleanor's body as she thought of Charles. "Is he worried about me?"

Dylan hesitated, then nodded. "He told me to try to convince you not to play detective again."

"Me? Play detective?" She grinned. "I assure you I only came to check on Danni and Jenna, not to get involved in any crime."

"You say that, but I know you enjoyed your last caper."

"Caper! Listen to you! You make me sound like Lady Sherlock Homes." Eleanor grinned and glanced around the area. Her gaze shifted to the man she'd bumped into earlier. A tall sign slightly obscured him and, of course, an array of people. The same strange sensation she'd felt earlier chilled her body. Her instincts said something wasn't right.

"Dylan, do you see that man by the coffee kiosk over there?"

Dylan laughed. "Now that narrows it down, doesn't it?"

"He's behind the sign. You can't miss him. He's wearing sunglasses."

"Okay. What's so special about him?" Dylan shrugged. "He looks like another tourist passing the time, just like me waiting to reconnect our flights."

"I bumped into him earlier and felt this strange sensation, but I didn't pay much attention because I was focused on finding you. I've got that feeling again."

Dylan scanned the area. "He might be watching that group of gentlemen by the entrance, but it's hard to say." He stopped to listen to the PA system. "I've got to go. They are announcing my flight."

"Go! And don't get tricked into buying any fake paintings while you're in California." She laughed and reached out to touch his hand. "Be careful."

"You're the one that needs to be careful. Please promise me you aren't going to get involved."

"Last call for Flight 2354 to San Francisco. Now boarding at Gate 18."

"Go, Dylan. You are going to miss your flight."

"Please be careful." With a deep breath, he headed toward his gate. As he walked past Angelo, he glanced his way, wondering what vibe Eleanor might have picked up on.

"I promise —" Eleanor blew him a kiss and watched as he hurried through the terminal to catch his flight. "To be careful, but I didn't say I'd stay out of it."

Her focus returned to Angelo as she watched him move from his location near the cafe, blending into the crowd. She was positive he was following the group of men who were on the move.

And she was only steps behind him.
*****
Angelo slowed and stopped to examine a gift shop rack as Jose and the other men waited near the elevator. He couldn't help but notice how different Jose looked since the last time he'd seen him. The playboy appeared tense, his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor replaced with a look of unease. He gestured animatedly and spoke in a voice too low for Angelo to catch the words.

One of the men, a tall figure with a stern face, placed a hand on Jose's shoulder, leaning in to speak. The interaction seemed more forceful than friendly.

Angelo's instincts told him that whatever was happening was important. He pulled out his phone, pretending to check messages while he snapped photos of Jose and the men.

"— about Bennett?" one of the suited men asked, his voice tense.

Jose scowled. "Are you —" Angelo couldn't hear the words, but Jose's posture exploded with anger.

The rough-looking man grabbed Jose's arm. "You or your father —"

Jose's voice rose as he yanked his arm away. "My father — nothing to do with — understand?"

"His — investigator — the woman lawyer."

"Angelo — my business — not your concern."

The bits and pieces of the conversation were choppy, but Angelo knew he'd heard his name.

Eleanor's curiosity kicked into gear after she overheard the men and sensed Angelo's tension. She made her decision, changing directions and moving closer to the group of men. As she approached, a sense of foreboding washed over her. Though they appeared to be nothing more than travelers or businessmen, the surrounding aura told her a different story.

The closer she got, the more she felt the cold, creeping sensation of something sinister. The air pulsed with a dark, almost evil energy. She could sense the undercurrents of deceit and betrayal in their presence, a twisted knot of intentions that made her spectral form shiver.

It wasn't just their words she heard — it was the feeling they projected. Their smiles were too sharp, their laughter hollow, devoid of genuine warmth. Their eyes had a hardness, a calculating gleam that spoke of ruthless ambitions and a willingness to cross any line.

Eleanor knew then that these men were not just discussing business deals or strategies. They were plotting something more insidious, and Angelo was somehow tethered to their schemes.
This realization hardened Eleanor's resolve. She had to help Angelo, whether he wanted her assistance or not. These men were not just a threat — they were a manifestation of the evil that had kept her tethered to this world, and she would not allow them to succeed.

"Excuse me," her voice filled with worry. "I seem to be a bit turned around. I've lost my briefcase, and I'm trying to find the information desk. Could one of you gentlemen point me in the right direction?"

Jose and his associates looked up, shifting their attention to her. The man in the expensive suit offered a polite smile. "Of course. It's just down that way, near the main terminal."

Eleanor nodded, giving him a relieved smile. "Thank you so much. One of the problems with getting older is that we tend to get disoriented easily."

"Happy to help."

Eleanor continued towards the information desk but glanced back and observed the group and Angelo.
*****
Noticing they were attracting attention, the one businessman quickly separated the two men. "I suggest a quieter place, maybe the lounge, to continue this discussion."

Jose looked around as if he sensed someone watching. Angelo ducked inside the shop while his mind raced, piecing together what little he'd heard. Somehow, these men knew about him, Naomi, and Bennett, but he didn't know what their connection might be. And why would Jose reveal his involvement to this mixed bag of men?

The group began to move, making their way toward the airport lounge. Angelo slid into the crowd, shadowing them at a safe distance. As he reached the lounge, he felt a strange chill, and a woman's voice startled him.

"I can help, you know."

He turned sharply, finding a slender, elegant woman standing beside him. She wore an outdated but striking outfit, and her eyes were sharp and curious.

Angelo frowned, annoyed at the interruption. "You again!" Angelo checked where the group was seated before speaking to Eleanor again. "Look, lady, you're mistaken. You need to stay out of this. It's not your business."

But Eleanor wasn't deterred. "Oh, I think it is. I'm quite interested in what they're talking about."

Without waiting for Angelo's response, she turned and walked toward the table where Jose and the men were seated. Angelo started to call after her, but something stopped him — a shiver down his spine that he couldn't quite explain as he watched her fade from sight. Gulping in disbelief, he chose a corner table and quickly ordered a drink.

Unseen by the men, Eleanor slipped into their midst, her form faintly shimmering as she leaned in to listen. The conversation was laced with tension as the burly figure with a deep voice spoke in low tones. "Are you responsible for Bennett's murder?"

Jose gasped. "Bennett's dead? I've been in Mexico. It's the first I learned of his death."

The suit spoke next. "He was found murdered outside the Art Museum. Now, the police are involved. The pageant and our organization didn't need that kind of publicity."

"So, you are accusing me or my father?"

"We aren't accusing anyone, but, interestingly, your father had his private investigator pay a visit to the woman lawyer."

My father's concerns have nothing to do with you," Jose snapped. "I'll take care of Angelo. I'm here because you said you had something big in the works and asked if I was interested. Now, you are accusing me and my family of murder."

"Calm yourself, Jose. No one is accusing you of anything. We are just asking business questions, that's all."

"Questions that have nothing to do with you."

"If the woman has the papers, it does have everything to do with us."

"What papers? And why would Naomi have whatever you're looking for?"

"We believe Bennett had them. And they are important to us — extremely important."

"So, that's why you contacted me, to get these papers from Naomi." Jose nodded and glanced around the table. "I could do that, but tell me, what's in it for me?"

"Not here. My office — tomorrow night at nine p.m."