Chapter 14 - The Game of Cat and Mouse
“Don’t look now, but exit B is compromised,” I whispered urgently, grabbing Sarah’s arm and veering sharply toward the baggage claim restrooms.
“Who is it?” Sarah asked, her breath hitching.
“Special Agent David Thorne. Margaret’s personal fixer inside the Justice Department,” I replied, slipping into a deserted corner near the maintenance lockers while Dr. Morris kept watch outside.
“How did he know we were on this flight?” Sarah hissed, checking her phone. “We used burner manifests!”
“Facial recognition AI deployed across airport transit networks,” Marcus said, joining us from behind a pillar with a grim expression. “Margaret’s reach is wider than we calculated. The moment our plane cleared the runway, her private security network flagged our biometric signatures.”
“We can’t stay here,” I said, looking around the cramped maintenance corridor. “If Thorne finds us, we’ll never make it to the DOJ.”
“There’s a service elevator that leads down to the baggage transit tunnels,” Marcus murmured, pulling a master skeleton key from his pocket and unlocking a heavy metal utility door. “Move, move, move!”
We descended into the labyrinthine subterranean tunnels of the airport, the hum of baggage carts and flickering fluorescent lights guiding our way through the concrete maze. Above us, the muffled thud of footsteps and security radio chatter echoed through the ceiling vents.
“He’s looking for us in sector four,” Marcus whispered, holding up a stolen airport radio he had swiped from a maintenance cart. *‘All units, sweep the terminal exits. The targets are moving on foot.’*
We sprinted through the damp corridors until we reached an exterior loading bay where a battered gray delivery van idling with its engine running awaited us. Marcus threw open the passenger door, and we piled inside just as Agent Thorne and two armed local security guards rounded the corner fifty yards away.
“Hold on!” Marcus roared, slamming the van into gear and tearing through the security gate with a deafening crash of splintered wood and chain-link fence.
May you like
As we hit the open highway leading toward downtown Washington, I looked back through the rear window, watching the airport lights shrink into the distance. We had survived the first trap, but the capital was crawling with enemies, and time was running out fast.
==================================================
