TEDDY, DRESSED AS an aviation mechanic, walked down the runway in front of the hangars. Mike Freeman’s agents had done a good job. The plane was there, housed in hangar forty-seven, and the pilot in charge of the plane liked to pass the time playing pinochle with the pilots in the hangar next door.
Teddy was pleased to see the game was in full swing. He walked by hangar forty-seven, turned, and walked around toward the back. He would have liked a window, but you can’t always get what you want. The walls were solid, with only a small ventilation duct near the roof. The hangar doors were the only way in and out.
It was a coin flip. No one was watching. Did he creep quietly around the corner of the building and slip in the front door, or did he walk by bold as brass and amble in as if he had every right to do so?
The latter seemed the better approach. If seen, he could pretend he’d accidentally entered the wrong hangar. That wouldn’t work if he was seen sneaking in.
Teddy walked in purposefully as if he worked there. No one challenged him. They were all playing cards.
The Syrians’ plane would have been dwarfed next to the Strategic Services jet. It looked like a twelve seater at best, with none of the amenities. Teddy smiled. He could imagine Fahd being pissed off that he hadn’t been given better.
The ladder was in place, and the door was open. Teddy waited to see if there was anyone inside. When he was reasonably certain there wasn’t, he climbed the steps and went on board.
Teddy’s estimate had been accurate. It appeared there had been six rows of seats, though now there were only five, two to a row, one on each side of the aisle. Teddy crept down the aisle. Sure enough, there on the floor were the holes where the back row had been unbolted and lifted out, probably to make room for a dog crate. Apparently the Syrians had counted on winning the bid.
Teddy heard brisk footsteps as a man came into the hangar, and he ducked down in the plane. He scooted next to a window and peered out quickly.
It was the Syrian pilot, and Teddy was trapped. There was no way he could get out, and no reasonable explanation for why he was there.
He glanced around. There was an access panel in the back of the plane. Teddy made for it, and wrenched it open to find a luggage compartment. He crawled in and pulled the door shut behind him just as the pilot came up the steps to the plane.
Teddy could hear the steps of the pilot coming down the aisle, and realized with dismay that he’d left the hatch ajar. If the pilot noticed, he’d close it. But he’d probably look in first. Would it be dark enough that the man wouldn’t see him? Yet another in an endless stream of potential disasters. Teddy scrunched back in the darkness and bumped into the hull.
He saw a crack of light. There was another hatch door. The cargo hold could be accessed from inside or out. He searched for a handle and found one, probably installed to ensure against anyone getting locked inside.
Teddy pushed the hatch open. It was on the opposite side of the passenger door. He squirmed through and dropped to the concrete hangar floor.
The pilot had not investigated the luggage hold. He was just going down the steps. Teddy crouched behind an oil drum until the pilot left the hangar again. He gave it two more minutes, and snuck out.
Teddy sighed and shook his head.
This was not going to be easy.