Anger welled up deep inside her once again and injected newfound courage and purpose into her mission.
With her multitool in hand, she hung back out of sight until the camera's lens faced away from her. When it was time, she quietly sneaked over and clipped the wire connection to disable the camera.
Next, she would have to bypass the electronic lock of the door without tripping the alarm. The red 'activated' light beamed into the darkness. She recognized the model. It was one she had dealt with hundreds of times, so she quickly went to work, once more reaching into her bag of tricks. She moved swiftly with a practiced hand she didn't realize she still had and inserted the USB end of a radio frequency identification device (RFID) into the portal of her iPhone, which had thankfully remained intact and was securely zipped inside her jacket's pocket. Holding the other end of the device against the electronic lock, her thumb found the app on her phone, and in less than ten seconds the RFID overrode the lock and the door sprang open.
Once inside she hesitated briefly at the door, first making sure that she was alone. To her right, a strong beam of moonlight broke through the clouds and partially lit up the front of the hangar through two large windows that sat at the top of each of the large hangar doors. On a clear night, it would have exposed her, but the gentle rain outside provided a cloudy cloak that allowed just enough light for her to see inside the large open space. When she knew she was safe, she ran toward the office to the left of her.
The door had been left open and she entered the partitioned space with ease. Her first instinct to look behind the door proved fruitful and she instantly spotted a dark green baseball cap dangling from a hook on the door. It was a start but not nearly enough to help disguise her. Her tee shirt was soaked with blood—that would be the first item of clothing she would have to replace. In the far corner, a single tan-colored locker stood in the corner and she hurried over, noisily yanking the door open in her haste. The flimsy metal echoed loudly through the space but she dared not stop. Time was running out. In the back of the locker, she found a scrunched-up blue and white men's shirt, looking as if a messy teenager had tossed it inside. She snatched it up and tucked it under one arm, nearly fainting from the strong whiff of rank sweat it gave off which instantly permeated the small space. A packet of peanuts and a chocolate bar lay to one side, which she also quickly buried inside her satchel. She was starved and even though they were quite possibly as stale as the shirt, it was a chance she would need to take.
In the far distance, she heard tires screeching. They were at most a few minutes away. She was running out of time, fast. She slammed the locker shut then turned out of the office and into the adjacent bathroom. It was much cleaner than she’d expected and she yearned to take a shower in the single cubicle she spotted inside. But it would have to wait. Instead, she darted toward the washbasin, splashed several handfuls of cold water over her face, then rinsed her lacerated hands under the tap before drying herself off with the white hand towel with red embroidered flowers that neatly hung from a hook next to her. To one side a matching cherry blossom red room fragrance stood proudly atop a pretty glass bowl of potpourri—no doubt the work of a woman, she thought when she sprayed a generous amount of the fragranced liquid all over the tee shirt.
Outside, a car door slammed shut followed by two more doors before a dog barked loudly into the early morning air. Changing shirts would have to wait, for now. They were out front, by the main doors, but would most certainly already be making their way to the rear entrance door since this was where the camera feed was cut. Dumping the towel in a nearby garbage bin, Jorja searched for another way out but didn't find any. Her eyes settled on the single executive jet in the center of the hangar and she wasted no time. She would hide inside, take her chances. Bolting across the squeaky floor the shiny black aircraft's door latch was just outside her reach and stretching to grab hold of it sent new tremors of pain into her ribcage. The armed response team's feet shuffled noisily just outside the hangar door and she reached up once more. The door dropped open and she forced the hydraulics down to speed up the process. Once inside, she moved quickly to shut the door then dashed swiftly between the cabin windows, dropping down the blinds. Apart from the cockpit and the bathroom, there weren't many places to hide. Out of time and out of options, she moved toward the cockpit and stopped just outside when she noticed a wall of cupboards. She yanked one open and found a black hostess dress, neatly pressed inside the dry cleaner's plastic covering.
"I guess it’s time for plan B," she whispered.
Wasting no time at all as the response team's feet squeaked on the floor inside the hangar, she changed into the uniform, fumbling to tie the dark green neckerchief with one hand. In a translucent cosmetic bag, she found a compact powder and a bright red lipstick. The top flipped open under her thumb to expose her badly lacerated face in the tiny mirror. Just as well she’d found the make-up, she thought. There would have been no way on earth she would get away with the ruse with her face looking like that. Holding the compact with her injured arm her other hand moved quickly to apply the make-up. It was at least two shades too dark but it did the trick and she dabbed some on the back of her hands where the cuts were raw and threatened to give her away. She had just finished and was applying the red lipstick when the aircraft's door latch alerted her to their arrival. She smoothed back her hair and stuffed her clothes inside the closet just as a guard stepped aboard the plane, his hands ready on his truncheon.
"Now, aren't you the early bird this morning," she said sounding chirpy. "I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour. I really should speak to Barry about getting the schedule right. The young kids of today—“
"Excuse me, ma'am, is everything all right?" The man cut her short, his eyes darting up and down the cabin.
"What on earth do you mean? Of course, I’m all right. Why do you ask?"
"You sure?"
She looked at him inquiringly, bluffing her way through her con.
"Yes, I am sure. Why wouldn't I be? I've been doing this job for nearly twenty years now. I am more than capable of prepping the plane before take-off."
"No, I, sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to imply you were incompetent. I meant to ask if you are safe, if you've heard or seen anyone break into the hangar."
"Break in? What are you saying? I have been here since four a.m. and I assure you, I would have known if someone broke in. Our client likes everything just so before she flies anywhere so I have to be extra careful not to miss anything."
The man hesitated.
"Do you mind if I take a look around?"
"Isn't that what you are supposed to do before every take-off? I would've thought Barry would check that you know the protocol, but no,” she said, pretending to blame a co-worker.
"Barry didn't call us, ma'am. We received an alert on the surveillance camera at the rear entrance."
"Oh, so you're not here to do the checks then?"
"No ma’am that must be a different division."
Jorja knew he wouldn't have a different answer since she had made it all up, but she needed to play the part out, so she continued.
"Well, in that case, perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me a lift back to Terminal 2, please? I need to just check in with my supervisor."
The guard had already walked through the small space to the rear of the plane and made his way back to where Jorja stood waiting in the nose of the plane, her hands concealed beneath an in-flight blanket.
"Certainly, ma'am, ready when you are."
"Wonderful, let me grab my bag and my coat, I'm right behind you."
She reached into the closet and replaced the blanket with her jacket and satchel then turned toward him, curving her newly painted red lips into a friendly smile.
Not only had her deception worked, but it had worked so well that she’d pulled off a free ride into the airport.