“We need to convince them to abort the flight,” Morgan said.
“Without your credentials, that’ll be difficult. Why should they believe us?”
“I’ll disable the plane myself if I have to.”
“We won’t get within twenty yards of it,” Tyler said.
A man from the ground crew passed them. Morgan grabbed his arm. The surprised technician must have thought she was an overzealous onlooker, until she lifted her shirt to show him the gun tucked in her waistband and gave him one of her cards.
“I’m Special Agent Morgan Bell,” she said. “We’ve gotten a report that someone may try to interfere with today’s flight. Has anything unusual happened this morning?”
The nonplussed crewman looked at the card and then at Morgan with wide eyes. The confidence in her tone convinced the man she was who she claimed to be.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “We’ve got everything under control, and all systems are go for the launch.”
“What about the crew?”
“They’re still in the Weeks hangar getting prepped. Should be here in thirty minutes.”
“Who’s in charge here?”
“That would be Robert Gillman. He’s the flight director. You’ll find him in the mobile control center over there.”
He pointed at a trailer with a satellite dish mounted on its roof.
“Tell him I’m coming to talk to him,” Morgan said, releasing the man. He nodded and trotted toward the trailer.
“What do you think?” Grant said.
“You and I will meet with the flight director, try to get him to scrub the demonstration. But I don’t want to put all our eggs in that basket. Tyler, you and Jess go find the flight crew and see if you can delay them until we get some real security out here. And if you spot Colchev or his men, do not engage. Call me first.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tyler said.
As Morgan and Grant trotted to the command center, Tyler and Jess headed back the way they came. Tyler checked the official guide and found the Weeks hangar on the map.
“That’s all the way over on the opposite end of the airport,” Jess said. “Even if we jog, it’ll take a while to get there.”
Tyler spotted a utility cart parked behind the EAA Welcome Center. He took Jess’s hand and ran to it. The key was still in it.
“We’ll borrow this. Hop on.”
Tyler started it up and aimed it toward the northern hangars, dodging pedestrians until they got into the open and he could floor it.
“Is this what your life is like now, Tyler?”
He suddenly realized that this was the first time he and Jess had been alone together since leaving Peru.
“You mean, gallivanting around the world on caffeine and no sleep, barely living through each day?”
“Not to mention stealing vehicles and blowing up Air Force jets.”
“I don’t do this kind of stuff all the time,” Tyler said. “But it does seem to be happening more frequently the last couple of years. Do you like the craziness of it?”
“Yes. No. Both.”
“It sounds like your doctor friend does something similar.”
“This Doctors Without Borders job is short-term. Andy’s not going to be doing it forever.”
At the north field Tyler cut through the entrance to the aircraft parking area. The gunmetal gray hangar was up ahead.
“Then what’s next for you?” Tyler said. “The house in Queenstown? A private practice where he’s stitching up snowboarders and bungee jumpers? Kids?”
“Do you want kids?”
“I did when I was with Karen.”
“And now?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“Only with someone I love.”
“Would you be willing to give up the globe-trotting?”
“Someday. If the right person came along.”
“But you didn’t with Karen.”
“That was a few years ago. A lot’s happened since then.”
Jess gave his leg a squeeze and remained unusually silent. He didn’t know what that meant, and this wasn’t the time to delve into it further. They had reached the hangar.
Tyler and Jess got out of the cart and walked to the door. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He knocked and after a few moments heard the rhythmic squeak of rubber soles on a polished concrete floor. The footsteps stopped on the other side of the door.
“Yes?”
“I need to speak to someone in charge,” Tyler said.
“What is this about? We’re very busy.”
Tyler was about to respond, then stopped himself. The voice. He’d heard it just yesterday.
Zotkin.
He and Colchev were inside. With less than thirty minutes before the launch, Tyler and Jess could go back with this definitive proof and get the entire police force to surround the hangar.
“Oh. I guess we can come back later.”
But with that response, Zotkin must have recognized Tyler’s voice, too. The door flew open.
Zotkin took aim with a pistol, but Tyler barreled forward before he could fire, knocking Zotkin backward. He kneed the Russian in the groin, then elbowed him in the side of the head. Zotkin went down before he knew what had happened.
Tyler took his weapon and gave it to Jess. He yanked Zotkin to his feet and drew his own Glock, pressing it against the man’s temple.
“Move,” Tyler said, pushing him forward, one hand clenching his collar.
They turned the corner and saw six men lying against the hangar door, all of them bound and gagged.
“Put your gun down,” came a voice from behind him.
Tyler whirled around. Colchev was hunched over an open container holding the Killswitch.
His finger lay on the red arming button.
“I’ve set this timer to zero, Dr. Locke,” Colchev said. “Put your gun down or I push this button and a hundred thousand people die.”
FIFTY-THREE
Despite Morgan’s arguments, the flight director wouldn’t call off the launch. He said that the company had everything riding on this demonstration to secure more investment funding, and without a direct court order, the flight was going forward. With no official identification, her speculation about a stolen weapon being snuck onto the spaceplane sounded like the ravings of a lunatic, even with Grant there to corroborate her story. She would have threatened him at gunpoint if she thought it would change the man’s mind, but she knew that would just divert attention to the control center, leaving the spaceplane unguarded.
They exited the trailer and resorted to their only option. Sitting on a bench near the spaceplane, they used the infrared goggles to scan the crowd. Bystanders would think they were using high-tech binoculars to watch the airplanes.
“Do you think these guys will still be tagged?” Grant said.
“The ID dust is persistent,” Morgan said. “The ones who escaped in San Diego will still have some of it on them.”
Grant sighed dramatically. “Ah, San Diego.”
“Oh, my God. You’re not going to get all mushy about what happened, are you? You were just there at the right time.”
“Mushy? Hell no. Can’t a guy reminisce about a fun afternoon?”
“Good. Because that’s all it was.”
“Fine with me.”
They scanned for a few more minutes before Grant said, “But just for the record, I wouldn’t mind having another afternoon like it.”
Morgan smiled. “Maybe we’ll find the right time again.”
“I know a great hotel in Chicago. When this is over …” Suddenly Grant went quiet and tensed up. “There’s one of them. Twenty yards away.” He was pointing at a man with a rounded face and dark hair wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans. He must have just come from behind the trailer housing the control center. She put the goggles up and saw the man covered with red crosshairs.