A
Gulfstream G20 squatted on the runway like a sleek insect.
It was painted matte black with golden trim and bore the logo of a fictitious oil exploration company.
There wasn’t but the cover of the Canadian company would buy him time on the runway.
He climbed up the set of stairs and settled into the cabin.
A single flight attendant came out of the cockpit and shut the door.
He watched as she pulled up the steps and locked them in place while the engines fired up on the plane.
They were wasting no time, which was good.
The longer the girl and her boyfriend were in rebel hands the more damage that could occur.
Brill wanted to be on the ground and gathering information so he could effect a rescue as fast as possible.
“Would you like something to drink for the flight?” the attendant asked.
She had flowing black hair and smoky black eyes that crinkled when she smiled.
Brill still felt a little jittery from the coffee triple stack at the cafe so he asked for a beer and for water.
She brought a bottle of Perrier and Stella Artois and he shook his head at the humor of the Universe.
The plane took off without incident and when they reached cruising speed, the pilot reached back and opened his door.
“Call for you,” he passed a headset to the attendant.
She brought it to Brill and showed him where to plug it into the seat.
“Shadowboxer,” he said into the microphone.
“This is an unsecure line,” the voice told him. “Stand by for instructions.”
“Roger that.”
“A package is waiting at the airport with your credentials and supplies. Look for the logo.”
The call disconnected.
Shit, thought Brill.
They didn’t tell him the password.