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55

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After driving through the gates and stopping at the small security and customs checkpoint, as was required of them, Jean-Paul found the first available space in the car park that belonged to the charter airlines.

When he got out, he left the keys in the ignition. Since neither he nor Noir were planning on ever returning to France, there was no reason for either of them to care if the vehicle was stolen. He thought it would actually be to their benefit if the vehicle was stolen, as it would throw the police and Interpol off their trail, which would increase their chances of getting away.

With no luggage to burden them, Jean-Paul and Noir walked empty-handed across the car park to the offices of Eagle Aviation. When they reached the building, Jean-Paul opened the door for his cousin, who strode inside and over to the counter, where a smartly dressed young woman stood.

“Good evening, the name’s Briand,” Noir informed her. “I have a jet chartered for a flight tonight.”

“Yes, sir, the Gulfstream,” the woman said immediately. “I understand you wish to leave as soon as possible.”

“That’s right, is the jet ready?” Noir/ Briand asked. He hoped it was, he didn’t want to wait around any longer than necessary. Every delay increased the chances of Interpol and the police finding out where he was and stopping him escaping.

“I believe so, sir. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you through to the lounge.” The woman stood up and came around from behind the counter. She opened a security door and led the way down a short passage to the small but comfortable lounge, where they found someone in a pilot’s uniform waiting for them.

Jean-Paul looked around the lounge as they entered, but there was no sign of either Olivier or his family.

“Mr Jaures, this is Mr Briand and his associate, they are your passengers. Mr Briand, this is Mr Jaures, the co-pilot for your flight.”

“Thank you,” Noir/ Briand said absently as the young woman turned away to return to the reception area. “Is the jet ready?” he asked of the co-pilot.

“The pre-flight checks are just being completed. Everything has been arranged to make your flight as comfortable as possible. If you would care to come with me, I’ll take you out to the hangar so you can board the jet,” Jaures said. “Is your luggage in reception?”

“No, we haven’t brought any with us,” Jean-Paul said, hoping no questions would be asked of their lack of luggage because he wasn’t sure he could provide an answer that wouldn’t make the co-pilot suspicious.

“Very well then, it’s this way.”

“What about Olivier?” Jean-Paul asked as they followed the co-pilot out of the lounge and the building to where a cart was waiting to transport them to the hangar, and the jet that would take them out of the country.

“You heard what I told him. If he wasn’t here with his family when we get here, we’d be leaving without him. He isn’t here. I’m not about to wait for him. We’ll get in touch once we’re safe, if we can, and he can join us wherever we are, assuming he hasn’t been arrested.”

It wasn’t a long journey across the airport, and they soon reached the hangar belonging to Eagle Aviation, where they saw the Gulfstream jet Noir had chartered. It was sleek and looked fast, which was just what they wanted, and the stairs were already down, so they could board without delay.

Jean-Paul swung out of the cart the moment it stopped and hurried over to the jet, where he waited at the foot of the stairs for his cousin and the co-pilot to catch up. He hadn’t paid much attention to Jaures before then, but now he did, and he noticed that the man’s uniform didn’t quite fit him properly: the jacket was a little tight across the shoulders and under the arms, and the trousers dragged on the ground at the heels, all of which aroused his suspicions. He was sure, given how much the charter airline charged, that their staff would be dressed in uniforms that fitted them properly in order to maintain the appearance of a top-class operation. More suspicious than the ill-fitting clothes was the gun Jaures appeared to be carrying in a holster at his left armpit, which was revealed by the tightness of his jacket.

Jean-Paul waited until Jaures had passed him and started up the stairs, and then he grabbed him by the back of his jacket. With a quick jerk he dragged him off the stairs and threw him to the ground, where he dropped heavily on top of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Noir demanded, staring in surprise at Jean-Paul.

“This guy isn’t the co-pilot,” Jean-Paul told him.

“Are you sure?”

For answer, Jean-Paul reached under Jaures’ jacket and took out the gun. “Do you think a real pilot would be carrying this?” he asked. He turned his attention back to the man beneath him. “What are you, police or Interpol?” To encourage Jaures to answer when he appeared reluctant, he pressed the muzzle of the gun into his eye.

“DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”

The shout came from behind Noir, and he spun around while Jean-Paul dragged Jaures up so he could use him as a shield as he surged to his feet and turned to the front of the hangar. Facing them was an assortment of armed police officers, counter-terrorism officers armed with submachine guns from the main airport terminal, and several non-uniformed men who were holding handguns, whom Jean-Paul and Noir guessed were from Interpol.

“You drop your weapons,” Jean-Paul called back. “Drop them or I kill him.” He emphasised his point by shifting the gun so it was against Jaures’ temple, where all the people in the hangar doors could see it.

His finger on the trigger, ready to fire the moment it became necessary, Jean-Paul’s eyes travelled from one end of the line of officers and agents to the other. He counted eight people in the line, all with their weapons aimed at him and his cousin, but he wasn’t about to simply give in, despite the odds being stacked against them. He was determined to get the two of them out of the country, no matter how many people he had to kill to manage it.

“Be sensible, Mr Renault, you’re outnumbered, you can’t get away,” Ney called out, doing his best to project a level of confidence he didn’t feel. He didn’t know how the two men had realised the co-pilot was one of his officers, but that didn’t matter just then. He was more interested in trying to deal with the situation at hand and arrest Noir and Renault without getting anyone killed. “Don’t make things worse for yourself. You’re already in a lot of trouble. If you give yourself up, things will go better for you.”

“Don’t give me that crap. You know as well as I do that if I give myself up, I’ll be in jail until I die. Nothing I...” Jean-Paul spun around at the noise that came from behind him, still with a tight hold on his hostage. He yanked his gun away from Jaures the moment he saw the gun-toting woman on the steps of the jet and fired twice. Both shots hit the woman in the chest before she could react to the danger, and she tumbled down the stairs.

Jean-Paul turned away the moment he shot the woman, without waiting to see the result of his actions, and refocused his attention on the people at the front of the hangar.

“All of you drop your weapons or more people die,” he told them, digging the muzzle of his gun into Jaures’ temple threateningly.

“We can’t do that,” Ney said, though he immediately realised that it was the wrong thing to say. He dived to one side as Jean-Paul took the gun from Jaures’ head and pointed it at him. The shots missed, thankfully, and he had to resist the urge to shoot back for fear of hitting Jaures.

Jean-Paul realised he was losing control, the look on his cousin’s face told him as much, but he didn’t seem able to stop himself. “I told you all to drop your weapons!” he shouted angrily, waving his gun around. He was pleased to see everyone in the line of officers and agents flinch and tense themselves in preparation to get out of the way if he started shooting again. “Get everyone off the jet except the pilot. Philippe and I will get on board and fly away. When we get to where we’re going, we’ll release Mr Jaures, or whatever his real name is, and he can fly home.”

“Be reasonable. You know we can’t let you go. Even if we let you fly away, you’ll be tracked, and there will be people waiting for you when you land.” Ney wished there had been time for the police snipers to get there and into position before Noir and Renault arrived. One well-placed shot could have ended things without any further problems.

While his cousin waved his gun around and tried to get them on the jet, Noir was more sensible. It was a reversal of their normal roles, he thought, as he worried that Jean-Paul would start shooting in some mad attempt to fight their way out of there, which, he realised, was something he might have ordered his men to do if they were there, and his life wasn’t one of those under threat.

They would never be able to get away in the jet, it just wouldn’t be allowed, which meant they need to find another way of escaping. He was confident they could still get away, so long as they kept thinking, didn’t do anything stupid, and kept hold of their hostage. While they had Jaures, Interpol and the police would be cautious about making any aggressive moves. That kept the two of them safe, up to a point. If they could get out of the airport and to a vehicle, he believed they stood a chance of evading the authorities, though it wouldn’t be easy.

Once they had done that, his organisation would be able to smuggle them out of the country. After all, they smuggled tonnes of assorted drugs into the country every year without them being discovered, so they must be able to smuggle two people out. First, though, they needed to get out of the hangar.

While Jean-Paul kept control of Jaures and watched the group at the hangar’s main doors, Noir searched for a way out. At the same time, he searched for any sign that there were others in the hangar, waiting to stop them. He was certain there had to be at least one other way out of the hangar, for health and safety reasons if nothing else. He was equally certain that there were officers and agents hiding in the hangar, waiting for an opportunity to catch them by surprise. He found what he was looking for, a door in the back wall of the hangar, after a minute. He had no idea where it led, but neither did he care. It led out of the hangar, and that was the only thing that mattered to him then.

With a hand on Jean-Paul’s arm, Noir slowly guided his cousin towards the door. As he led the way, Jean-Paul holding on tight to their hostage, his eyes darted all around, searching for trouble.

They made steady progress, despite the situation, but the line of officers and agents kept pace, moving further into the hangar after them. He didn’t like that. If the door wouldn’t open, they would be more trapped than they had been before.

They were twenty-five feet from the door when two men appeared, rising to their feet from behind some machinery and moving quickly to block the door.

Noir fired the moment he saw the men, forgetting that he had intended remaining calm and behaving sensibly. The first man went down after being hit but before he could change his aim to fire at the second man he was spun around by a hammer blow to the shoulder. He was hit again as he fell and then his head impacted with the concrete floor of the hangar, at which point everything went black.

The moment Noir started shooting, Jean-Paul twisted around. He saw his cousin fall but ignored that as he fired at the agent blocking the door. He was squeezing the trigger for the third time when Jaures hooked his foot around the back of his leg and threw himself backwards, knocking him off his feet.

Jean-Paul landed heavily, and then had the breath knocked out of him as Jaures landed on top of him and drove an elbow into his ribs. Surprised and winded, Jean-Paul let go of his hostage, who quickly scrambled to his feet so he could get away.

Jean-Paul raised his gun as he struggled to get his breath back and get to his feet. He was able to get off a shot, which took Jaures in the middle of the back, and then someone dived on top of him. They pinned his arm to the floor and forced his gun away from Jaures before wrenching it from his grasp and throwing it aside.

Moving forward cautiously, their weapons at the ready, Ney and Joubert, along with their team, approached Noir and Renault. It was clear that Noir was unconscious, and not an immediate threat, so they focused their attention and their weapons on Renault. They kept their weapons trained on him until the officer who had put himself at risk to save Jaures rolled Renault over onto his face and cuffed his hands behind his back.

Handcuffs were also placed on Noir, despite him being unconscious, to further ensure he couldn’t cause any trouble, and while two Interpol agents kept watch on Noir and Renault, those who had been shot were checked.

To the relief of both Ney and Joubert, and the rest of their team, none of those shot by Noir and Renault had been killed thanks to the body armour they were wearing, and Ney took out his phone to report in while Joubert organised medical assistance.

**

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“WHAT’S THE SITUATION?” Lejour asked without preamble when he answered Ney’s call.

“Noir and Renault are both in custody,” Ney said. “Noir’s going to need surgery, he was shot in the shoulder and the stomach, but he should pull through okay. Renault’s okay, just a few bumps and bruises, nothing to worry about.” He wasn’t inclined to worry about any injuries sustained by the pair, he wouldn’t have worried even if they had been more serious. They were alive, and that was good, but only because it meant they could stand trial and receive the appropriate punishment for their crimes.

“Any injuries to your team?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Ney reassured him. “Everyone who was shot got hit in their vests, so the most they’re going to have is bruises, and maybe a cracked rib here or there. They’ll be okay in a few days, a week at the most. Things could have gone a lot worse.”

Lejour uttered a silent prayer of thanks. Everything had been arranged with such haste he wouldn’t have been surprised if the worst had come to pass, and he was relieved that hadn’t happened.

“Okay, get Noir to the hospital and get him into surgery. Make sure you have plenty of officers there in case he’s stupid enough to try and make a break for it. And get Renault into a cell.” He hung up then so he could begin winding down the operation and get everyone back to their normal duties. Things had not gone to plan, and there was bound to be some fallout and a fair number of questions about what had gone wrong, but the thing that mattered most was that they had got the result they were after: Philippe Noir and Jean-Paul Renault were under arrest, and they had enough evidence against them to be sure that no amount of legal manoeuvring would save them from prison.

The only questions that remained was how many crimes they would be charged with and how long would be the sentences they received.