Gabby stepped off the Boeing 767 onto the people mover and felt a cold gush of air fill her lungs. The pungent smell of diesel fuel mingled with the musty scent of travelers who’d flown from Paris to DC the past eight hours with little more space than a sardine can. Readjusting the strap of her backpack, she grabbed onto the nearest metal pole while trying to fight the fatigue.
She took a swig of water from her plastic bottle and forced it down as the mobile lounge crossed the tarmac toward the terminal. All she needed now was enough oomph to make it through Immigration and Customs. She turned her mind to plans she had to make for her upcoming trip to Aspen with her family over Christmas. A far cry from the blistering heat and mining camps she’d just spent the past couple of weeks investigating. And the horrors of her last night in the RD.
A man wearing a green baseball cap with a red dragon glanced back through the crowded people mover and caught her gaze. European, mid-forties, balding … and vaguely familiar. Her stomach roiled, but she shoved aside the wave of panic Tuesday night’s attack had spawned. She’d found out that their driver had survived the attack, but they’d all been lucky.
The man stared out the window. More than likely he was simply another businessman who made his living traveling seventy-five percent of the year to make money for a family he rarely saw.
She’d known the risks of her investigation when she’d agreed to the assignment, and that just because she was on American soil again didn’t guarantee she was safe. She tightened her grip as the mobile lounge docked at the terminal, believing the risk had been worth it. Once published, she hoped the information would explode across the front pages of dozens of newspapers around the world.
Forty-five minutes later, she breathed in a sigh of relief as she hurried toward the Arrival escalators in the main terminal, thankful she’d opted out of checking any bags—a choice that could easily have added another hour to her wait.
Sabrina, her best friend and roommate, stood at the front of the crowd wearing blue jeans and a Washington Redskins sweatshirt. “Hey! You made it back.”
“Finally. It’s good to see you.” Gabby forced as smile, then looked past her friend, searching the sea of faces, not sure what she was looking for. “I had my doubts once or twice.”
Someone collided into her, knocking her bag from her shoulders.
“Sorry about that.” An older man nodded his apologies and walked away.
Gabby stiffened at the innocent assault.
Sabrina handed her the bag. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Gabby automatically felt for her neck pouch with its wire-reinforced strap. Adam might have tried to assure her that Tuesday night’s attack involved nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she wasn’t willing to take any chances—even this far away from the Dark Continent.
“I’m fine, really.” She followed Sabrina outside the main terminal. “Just tired. You know how grueling a couple of days on a plane is, then add someone who can’t stop talking beside you.”
“Yes, actually, I do. Remember that flight I took last year from Singapore. That woman talked all the way to LA nonstop.”
A message came in on her cell phone. She sneezed, then clicked it open to check. She’d already glanced through her new messages while the plane taxied to their gate, but if Adam had found Yasin, there was a chance she might still be able to add a quote before today’s deadline.
Sabrina was still talking. “Michael took me to this fantastic little Indian restaurant while you were gone that you’re going to love. If you’re hungry, they make the most incredible spring rolls, and you wouldn’t believe their … Gabby?”
Gabby stopped at the edge of the curb. “I’m sorry, Sabrina … I …”
She replayed the message. Surely she hadn’t heard it right. “Last night wasn’t a mistake.”
“Gabby?” Sabrina grabbed her arm as a car zipped around them.
“Last night wasn’t a mistake.”
A chill swept through her. She took a deep breath, exhaled on the overwhelming odor of exhaust from a passing car, and shoved her phone back into her pocket. She might have been targeted last night, but what abut the hundreds who couldn’t simply walk away from the terror like she could. How could she let a threat trying to stop her from doing what she knew she had to do?