Dead Men Do Wear Plaid

         Nick grasped Jill's hand and together they ran toward the helicopter. The huge blades were calling, "Thwop, thwop, thwop." and generating almost hurricane force winds. Jill used her free hand hold to her long, brown hair out of her face. Nick held his tie down to his chest.
         They knew they had only minutes--maybe seconds--before Patrick caught up with them. Jill wished she could leave her legs behind. They felt like lead weights. As they continued to run, Nick all but dragging Jill, her hand slipped from his. She struggled to keep going but couldn't. She dropped to her knees.
         Nick felt her hand slip and stopped, turned and ran back to her. He held out his hand. "C'mon. Patrick's bound to know we're gone by now." He glanced at the rooftop door, expecting to see Patrick emerge any minute.
         Jill shook her head. "I can't run anymore. I'm...too...tired." Nick helped her to her feet but her legs were too wobbly to stand. She slipped back down. "Leave me. My legs won't make it." She brushed her hair out of her face and looked at the rooftop door. "Besides. He won't hurt me if I'm not with you."
         Jack looked into Jill's deep blue eyes. "I'm not willing to risk your life on the chance that an old, broken marriage will subdue that phsycopath's rage."
         "Nick..."
         "We don't have time for this."
         "Hey!" Jill yelled as Nick scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder and headed toward the still waiting helicopter that was perched near the edge of the roof.
         Nick sat Jill in the seat and secured the belt. He jumped in and looked around just in time to see Patrick emerge from the rooftop door. He slapped the pilot on the shoulder and shouted, "Go!" as her secured his own belt. Bullets peppered the side of the helicopter, one grazing Nick's calf. He slipped off his blazer, tore a sleeve from his shirt and used it as a make-shift bandage.
         Nick didn't notice Jill unbuckeling the belt. She dropped the foot-and-a-half to the rooftop, rolling head-over-heels as she landed. She jumped up running toward Patrick, who was still firing on the helicopter.
         "Jill!" Nick screamed, wondering how long it would take Patrick to turn the gun on her. He took out his laser-sighted .45 and aimed the laser on the center of Patrick's plaid shirt.
         Patrick noticed the red dot on his chest and became even more enraged. He let off the trigger and brought the barrel down to bear on Jill.
         She stopped her run cold when she saw the barrel pointed at her. "Patrick. It's Jill," she said as she walked slowly toward him with her arms outstreached.
         Patrick pulled back on the hammer and steadied his aim. "If you take another step..."
         "You won't shoot me. You can't."
         "You're the one the bullets are for. I couldn't care less about your agent double-oh-stupid Nick Saunders."
         "But I thought you loved me."
"As they say, that's what you get for thinking."
         Just as he leveled the sight on Jill's chest, the helicopter came swooping down, the force of the wind knocking him off balance. He squeezed the trigger and the bullets sailed harmlessly into the air. Nick fired and hit Patrick square in the chest. Patrick tumbled, lifelessly, to the ground.
         The helicopter landed and Nick jumped out. Jill ran to her felled ex-husband, blood staining his plaid shirt. Nick walked up, reached down and felt for a pulse. He turned to Jill and said, "He's dead."



         Nick and Jill stood looking at the body on the ground. Jill was trying to catch her breath and Jack looked at his watch. He pushed a button and shook his head. "People, we've got to do better than this."
         "I guess I need to work out more."
         Nick looked at Jill and smiled. "Not from where I'm standing." He shook Patrick's body with his foot. "Rise dead man," he said with a smile.
         "I'm tired of playing the bad guy," Patrick said as he stood and brushed the dirt off his clothes. "Those blanks hurt."
         "But you're so good at it," said Jill.
         "Thanks, I think. But dead men don't wear plaid."
         "Who said dead men have any taste in clothes."
         Patrick sneered at her and picked up his gun.
         "I hate to break up this friendly discussion," said Nick. "But we need to get back to HQ for our next assignment." He turned to Patrick. "Agent double-oh stupid?"
         "Clever, huh?"
         The three agents laughed and headed to the helicopter.