the streets with smiles on their faces.
Carefree. Careless. Too young to realize how precarious life truly is, too involved in their own moment to imagine what could happen.
She went back inside. Fletcher had finished his sandwich, and her croissant, too.
“Sorry, I was starving,” he said. “I already ordered you a new one.”
“We better get it to go.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Gotta go to work?”
“Actually, we have to go to work. I just got called in on your murder. You better take me to that crime scene pronto.”
Teterboro Airport New Jersey
XANDER WHITFIELD SLOUCHED in the chair at the gate, shades firmly in place. While he looked like a sleeping tourist trying to catch an uncomfortable nap before his flight, he was on high alert.
He watched his partner, Chalk, move through the room near the principal, waiting for the nod telling him it was time to move. They had a loose box around their principal—a wealthy British industrialist named James Denon, who didn’t want it known he had a protection detail on him while he visited his interests in the States—and his people. Their job had been to blend into the crowd everywhere the team went.
So far, they’d done well. Not great—they’d had one small mishap when Chalk turned the wrong way for a moment and the principal had gotten too far ahead of them—but good. Xander wasn’t entirely thrilled with this lurking-from-afar crap, but sometimes the principal got to make the call. Once the doors to the plane closed, he and Chalk would be done and on their way, thousands of dollars richer and with a glowing recommendation to boot. Just what they needed to get their new company off the ground.
This part of the operation was the trickiest. Whipping out their weapons at an airport was a surefire way to get noticed. If a bogey were to make a move now, they would have to counter it with subtle, quick and meaningful brute force.
Xander was fine with that. It had been ages since he’d been in an honest-to-God fight. He wouldn’t mind sinking his fists into a bad guy’s face.
It wouldn’t happen today. The job had been simple, straightforward. James Denon was well-liked by his people, his company and his country. There had been no signs of trouble all week. The people who hated him were half a world away, and the trip had been on close hold, so they had no idea he was in the States.
They’d timed their arrival well. The wait was short; after only fifteen minutes, their principal’s flight was ready. This was the beauty of Teterboro, New Jersey’s private airport. The crowds were smaller, the people waiting for private flights and charters. The usual program—parking, security, long wait times at the gates—wasn’t at all the same.
Good for the principal, but more difficult for Xander to fit in. They’d been lucky today; there was a group of private high schoolers being ferried to Canada, and they were creating quite a bit of distraction. Enough for Xander to find a spot along the periphery and look like one of their chaperones, exhausted already by their energy.
Behind the mirrored lenses, he watched the small crowd. Their principal began making his way toward the doors. Xander gave Chalk the nod, stood, stretched. Moved toward the double glass doors to the tarmac, gave things a look-see. All clear. He spoke quietly into his hand mike. “We’re a go. Plane’s here.”
Chalk, standing four feet away, touched the principal on the shoulder, gestured unobtrusively toward the door. Xander kept watch while the principal and his people dutifully paraded out the door, across the tarmac and into the plane.
Five minutes later, it was done. The flight attendant had closed the door, and the plane pulled away, engines purring.
“A final all clear,” Xander said, and felt the tension of the past few days leak away.
Chalk strolled toward the exit, and Xander followed, cautious to watch their backs. No reason to get made just because the operation was over.
They met up in the parking lot. They had rented two cars. They’d take them back to JFK, drop them and the job would officially be over.
“That went well,” Chalk said.
“It did. And now he’ll tell all his friends. Let’s get to JFK. I want to go home.”
Chalk’s phone rang. He answered with his usual, “Hoo-rah.” A moment later his face turned white.
Xander instinctively put his hand on his weapon at his belt, a sweet little SIG Sauer he preferred for close-up work.
“What is it? What happened?”
Chalk didn’t answer, just made a helicopter with his finger and about-faced smartly, back toward the private terminal. Xander stepped next to him. A moment later, Chalk hung up.
“That was Denon. They’re turning the plane around, some sort of mechanical problem. Looks like you and I aren’t done just yet.”
They were at the entrance now, and there was a lot of activity inside. Xander saw four airport employees running toward the back doors. The private schoolers were gathered together at the southern end of the room, pushing toward the windows, staring, one of their chaperones waving her hands to get them to stay put.
Xander ignored everyone around him but Chalk, tuned them out, lasered his focus. “What’s the issue, did he say?”
“No. He’s justifiably concerned.”
“Think it’s directed at him?”
“I don’t know, but we better be ready for anything when that plane lands.”
“If it is, they knew we were on him. They waited until we left to make a move.”
“That’s pretty fucking sophisticated. I haven’t seen a tail, or anything to indicate we were being observed.”
Xander nodded. “Me, either. Could his itinerary have leaked? He’s a good target, we both know that. The threat assessment showed plenty of people who want him dead.”
“If so, someone inside his senior staff or the folks he met with did it. No one else knows he’s here.”
They jogged through the doors, went straight to the back and out onto the tarmac. With the hullabaloo, no one thought to stop them. So much for being inconspicuous, though.
“Sam is going to skin me alive if I don’t get home tonight.”
Chalk shot him a grin. “Cheer up, lover boy. If our principal goes splat, you can get right on the next plane south.”
“If our principal goes splat, we’re done for. You take the terminal, I’ll meet the plane. Cover my six.”
He would be totally exposed, but there was no help for it. Chalk disappeared into the shadows behind him, and Xander stood with the other employees, his arms crossed, staring toward the empty tarmac. He listened hard to the charter employees. Apparently, the engine lights had flashed red,
