Brett Battles - The Destroyed

The jet made a large circle just before it reached the terminal. When it stopped, it was beside the second plane, facing in the opposite direction. This would make it easier to move the prisoner from one craft to the other.

As the engines wound down, the door opened. Standing at the top was a tanned man in a suit and tinted glasses. Peter had never seen him before, but that was probably good. It meant Olsen was unlikely to know him.

The man lowered the built-in staircase and disappeared back into the plane for a moment. When he reemerged, Mila Voss was with him.

A low, satisfied grunt reverberated from Olsen’s throat. “It’s definitely her.”

“Just to be safe, I think we should still do the checks.”

“Fine,” Olsen said, though it was a halfhearted assent.

Only the suited man and Mila exited the plane. Peter had explained to Olsen that the idea was to keep things low-key on the off chance someone might be watching. Mila even had a coat draped over her hands, covering the cuffs around her wrists.

As she and the suited man crossed the tarmac, Peter folded his arms, right over left. Mila walked with her head drooped, as if defeated, while the man with her kept a steady hand on her back. When they were within five feet of Peter and Olsen, the man told her to stop.

To Peter, he said, “I was instructed to see her all the way onto the plane.”

“Correct,” Peter said. “Proceed.”

“Let’s go,” the man said, guiding Mila toward the stairs.

Just before they reached the first step, Peter called out, “Hold on.”

The man turned back around. “Yes, sir?”

Peter walked over, his back now to the other craft. As he’d hoped, Olsen did the same.

“I just want to take a look,” Peter said.

He put a hand under Mila’s chin and lifted up her face. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as if she hardly knew he was there.

“What are you doing?” Olsen asked.

Ignoring him, Peter asked the man, “Is she drugged?”

“No, sir. She’s been like that since she boarded the plane.”

“What about when you captured her?”

“That was a different part of the team, sir. I was waiting at the airfield so I can’t say.”

Peter moved Mila’s face side to side as if checking for cuts and bruises.

After a few seconds, the tanned man said, “She was asleep right before we landed.”

That was the cue.

“All right,” Peter said. He took a step back. “Go ahead. Take her on.”

Quinn watched through a narrow slit at the bottom of one of the window shades as Daeng walked Mila toward the other plane. They stopped in front of Peter and the other man, shared a few words, then continued toward the stairs.

This was another point where Peter could blow things for them, but Daeng stopped and turned, Peter and the man with him walked over, their backs now to the newly arrived aircraft, just as discussed.

“Now,” Quinn said.

In silent succession, Nate, Orlando, and Quinn exited the plane, slipped under the fuselage, and made for the trees fifty yards on the other side. As soon as they were safely under cover, Quinn took a look back. Though his view was limited, it looked like the others had boarded the second plane.

“This way,” Orlando whispered. She was looking at the map on her phone that showed their current location in relation to the trailer.

They made their way through the woods, careful to make as little noise as possible.

“I don’t know, Quinn,” Peter had said after Quinn laid out everything for him before boarding the plane in Venice.

“You have a choice to make. It’s not a small one, I know, but let’s be honest. Is there really any answer but yes?”

“You’ve got to give me a little time to think.”

“You have until we get to Geneva.”

Peter’s response would come in one of two ways: either Quinn and the others would be taken into custody in Geneva upon disembarking the flight from Venice, or they wouldn’t. That would mean the plane and the equipment Quinn had requested would be waiting for them.

Option two turned out to be the winner.

Somewhere in the woods ahead they would find three guards. They knew this because of the way Peter had been holding his arms when Daeng approached him-folded, right over left.

When Quinn, Orlando, and Nate were within one hundred and fifty feet of the trailer, they pulled down their ski masks, circled to the left, and quickly came to the dirt road where two cars were parked.

One of the three guards was sitting behind the wheel of the car in back, but the other two were nowhere in sight.

Quinn pointed at Nate, who nodded, then headed along the edge of the trees toward the car. When he came level with the vehicle, he dropped down so as not to be seen, and moved around the rear over to the driver’s side.

Quinn could no longer see him at this point, but what he could see was the man inside. For a few seconds, everything was as it had been, then the man looked over, surprised, as his door was jerked open. Before he could do anything, he slumped forward as the shot of Beta-Somnol Nate had jabbed into him took effect.

The crown of Nate’s head appeared for a second as he arranged the man back into a sitting position so it would look like nothing was wrong. He then shut the door and returned to the others.

It took them two precious minutes to find the next guard. He was wandering the woods, beyond where the cars were parked. Once more, Nate did the honors, shoving the needle into the man before the guy even knew he was there.

Quinn knew the third guard would be positioned close to the trailer, most likely on the side with the door, so they came at the surveillance vehicle from the back. When they reached it, Nate went one way, Quinn and Orlando the other.

As he and Orlando turned the corner, they came face to face with the third man. The guard pulled back in surprise, his hand automatically going for his gun, but before he could free it, Quinn had an arm wrapped around him, and a hand over the man’s mouth. Orlando quickly injected enough of the drug into the man’s arm to keep him out until morning.

With her help, Quinn laid him on the ground. He grimaced as he straightened back up.

“You okay?” she whispered.

“Fine,” he lied.

They reconnected with Nate around front, and gave him the sign that told him the third man was taken care of.

Quinn checked his watch. Nearly five minutes had passed since they’d left the plane. They needed to speed this up. Without wasting another second, Quinn wrenched the door open and the three of them rushed inside.

Most of the opposite side of the trailer was taken up by a wall of monitors. On the largest screen was a shot showing the inside of the second plane. Mila was having her fingerprints taken. Two men-Mygatt and Green-were sitting in chairs in front of the wall where they had been watching the action. But now, they were looking toward the door in confusion.

“Hands where I can see them!” Quinn yelled.

“What the hell?” Mygatt said.

“Hands where I can see them!”

Green got the message first, and put his hands on the counter in front of the monitors. Mygatt didn’t budge.

“You’ve just made a huge mistake,” the former senator said. “There are half a dozen men out there right now undoubtedly surrounding this trailer. You need to put down your-”

“You know, I’d love to play who’s got the bigger set of balls but we don’t have time,” Quinn said. “Hands where I can see them.” He slapped the barrel of his gun against Mygatt’s head.

The politician screamed out in pain, and complied with the order.

“What do you want?” Green asked.

“We’ve got what we want.”

“There are men outside. They will kill you unless you put down your guns.”