they booked three tickets. We’d arrange to meet up in central London as soon as everyone landed, and pray it wasn’t too late to find some kind of plan that would give us an edge over Dmitri.
I glanced at my watch. About a half hour before the flight boarded. We joined Gerry, sitting at one of the tables just outside the coffee shop. He held up a finger: he was almost done.
Sean glanced out toward the concourse. His face froze. I saw something go dead behind his eyes, then light up again, as if he’d been rebooted. “Zoe, the muggers! From the construction site!”
“Get to the gate,” Claudia said as she rose. She looked for all the world like someone whose flight had been called, purposeful but unhurried. “We’ll deal with this.”
“The Wi-Fi cut out, damn it,” Gerry said. “Don’t wait; I’ll e-mail you the rest of the files, what we have on Parshin. You’ll have them by the time you land.”
Nothing else mattered but getting on that plane and saving Danny.
The sight of the team of other Fangborn coming toward us decided it. I turned and legged it for the security line.
And stopped dead. A moment before, the line had been nonexistent. Now several groups converged on it. They were moving, but far too slowly for me to avoid the other Fangborn.
I didn’t think the Fangborn wanted to draw attention to themselves—not with their secrets—but neither could I afford the attention, not with what was in the bottom of my bag. I didn’t want them to get too close; I remembered the snake-man at the construction site uncomfortably. And now there were enough of them to “suggest” I get out of line and go with them.
I glanced around, as casually as I could, and saw Claudia approach them. Gerry was still in the coffee shop, trying to get the files sent to me.
The group of six Fangborn split up. Three stayed with Claudia and three came toward me.
I turned, trying not to think about what would happen when they caught up with me. If I stepped out of line, they’d catch me. If I didn’t, and a ruckus ensued within sight of security, chances were almost nil I’d be allowed on the plane. I had to make that flight; Danny’s life depended on it, it seemed.
I closed the minuscule gap between me and the family of six ahead, four little girls with their pink Hannah Montana backpacks. I checked my watch. Twenty minutes till the flight boarded.
The line stalled as the little girls struggled to get out of their backpacks. The other line was no better, a group of traveling seniors who weren’t up to speed on their liquids allowance, every other one of whom had a pacemaker or a metal prosthetic. The third line was looking likely until a sizable flight crew, wearing uniforms identical to the woman who’d checked me in, cut ahead of the two business travelers. I realized with a start that they were probably staffing my flight, now just minutes from boarding.
A gasp behind me, followed by a shout.
Don’t turn around, Zoe,
I told myself.
It doesn’t have anything to do with you.
A shove, and I swung around, ready to demand to know what was going on.
The guy behind me held up his hands. “Sorry—there’s some maniac back there.”
Maniac
sounded oddly familiar.
I nodded and glanced around with an awful feeling that I knew what I’d see.
The coffee shop had seating adjacent to the bar on the concourse floor, separated by only a railing. Sean had reached over the railing and grabbed a beer from someone sitting there; the owner objected. The Fangborn following me also objected as Sean careened right into them. The beer he was holding crashed to thefloor, foam and glass splashing them all. He slammed into one of them and grabbed at the ones on either side of him.
The Fangborn tried to shove past Sean, the most inconvenient human speed bump ever. He staggered into them, clutching their clothing to hold himself up.
True to Claudia’s suggestion, Sean was helping me make my flight.
TSA guards emerged, then
I glanced at my watch. About a half hour before the flight boarded. We joined Gerry, sitting at one of the tables just outside the coffee shop. He held up a finger: he was almost done.
Sean glanced out toward the concourse. His face froze. I saw something go dead behind his eyes, then light up again, as if he’d been rebooted. “Zoe, the muggers! From the construction site!”
“Get to the gate,” Claudia said as she rose. She looked for all the world like someone whose flight had been called, purposeful but unhurried. “We’ll deal with this.”
“The Wi-Fi cut out, damn it,” Gerry said. “Don’t wait; I’ll e-mail you the rest of the files, what we have on Parshin. You’ll have them by the time you land.”
Nothing else mattered but getting on that plane and saving Danny.
The sight of the team of other Fangborn coming toward us decided it. I turned and legged it for the security line.
And stopped dead. A moment before, the line had been nonexistent. Now several groups converged on it. They were moving, but far too slowly for me to avoid the other Fangborn.
I didn’t think the Fangborn wanted to draw attention to themselves—not with their secrets—but neither could I afford the attention, not with what was in the bottom of my bag. I didn’t want them to get too close; I remembered the snake-man at the construction site uncomfortably. And now there were enough of them to “suggest” I get out of line and go with them.
I glanced around, as casually as I could, and saw Claudia approach them. Gerry was still in the coffee shop, trying to get the files sent to me.
The group of six Fangborn split up. Three stayed with Claudia and three came toward me.
I turned, trying not to think about what would happen when they caught up with me. If I stepped out of line, they’d catch me. If I didn’t, and a ruckus ensued within sight of security, chances were almost nil I’d be allowed on the plane. I had to make that flight; Danny’s life depended on it, it seemed.
I closed the minuscule gap between me and the family of six ahead, four little girls with their pink Hannah Montana backpacks. I checked my watch. Twenty minutes till the flight boarded.
The line stalled as the little girls struggled to get out of their backpacks. The other line was no better, a group of traveling seniors who weren’t up to speed on their liquids allowance, every other one of whom had a pacemaker or a metal prosthetic. The third line was looking likely until a sizable flight crew, wearing uniforms identical to the woman who’d checked me in, cut ahead of the two business travelers. I realized with a start that they were probably staffing my flight, now just minutes from boarding.
A gasp behind me, followed by a shout.
Don’t turn around, Zoe,
I told myself.
It doesn’t have anything to do with you.
A shove, and I swung around, ready to demand to know what was going on.
The guy behind me held up his hands. “Sorry—there’s some maniac back there.”
Maniac
sounded oddly familiar.
I nodded and glanced around with an awful feeling that I knew what I’d see.
The coffee shop had seating adjacent to the bar on the concourse floor, separated by only a railing. Sean had reached over the railing and grabbed a beer from someone sitting there; the owner objected. The Fangborn following me also objected as Sean careened right into them. The beer he was holding crashed to thefloor, foam and glass splashing them all. He slammed into one of them and grabbed at the ones on either side of him.
The Fangborn tried to shove past Sean, the most inconvenient human speed bump ever. He staggered into them, clutching their clothing to hold himself up.
True to Claudia’s suggestion, Sean was helping me make my flight.
TSA guards emerged, then
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