Chapter 6 - The Private Airfield
The rain had followed us to Savannah, turning the coastal sky into a swirling mass of dark clouds. The private airfield was located on the outskirts of the city, a small stretch of tarmac surrounded by dense, overgrown marshland and tall chain-link fences.
Marcus pulled the truck off the main road, hiding it behind a thick grove of weeping willows. We loaded our weapons. I had never fired a gun at a person in my life, but as I checked the magazine of the Glock, my hands were perfectly steady.
"Two guards at the gate," Marcus whispered, looking through a pair of tactical binoculars. "Private security. Heavily armed. The Cessna is idling on the runway. She's getting ready to board."
I peered through the rain. I could see her. Claire. She was wearing a sleek black trench coat, carrying the matching beige suitcase. She looked entirely unbothered, checking her watch as a pilot fueled the small aircraft.
"We can't just run up there; we'll get cut to ribbons," Marcus said, assessing the tactical situation. "I'll flank right, take out the floodlights, and create a distraction. You loop around the marsh, come up behind the hangar. When the shooting starts, you move in and grab her. Do not hesitate, Arthur. If she pulls a weapon, you put her down."
I nodded.
Marcus vanished into the tall grass like a ghost. I took a deep breath, the smell of salt water and aviation fuel filling my lungs, and began my slow crawl through the muddy marsh. The water seeped into my boots, chilling me to the bone, but I kept my eyes locked on the hangar.
Suddenly, a massive BOOM echoed across the airfield. The primary floodlight exploded in a shower of sparks and glass, plunging half the tarmac into darkness.
"Contact!" one of the guards yelled, raising an assault rifle and firing blindly into the brush where Marcus had been.
Claire panicked. The cool, collected black widow finally lost her composure. She dropped her suitcase and sprinted toward the plane.
This was my moment. I broke from the tree line, sprinting across the wet tarmac.
"Claire!" I roared over the sound of the plane's engine.
May you like
She spun around, her eyes widening in absolute shock as she saw me. She didn't hesitate; she reached into her coat, pulling out a compact, suppressed pistol.
She fired twice. The bullets hissed past my ear, one grazing the fabric of my jacket. I didn't stop. I tackled her at full speed, the two of us crashing violently onto the hard, wet concrete.
