Chapter 8 - RUNWAY OF RECKONING
The private aviation terminal at JFK Airport was bathed in the harsh glow of sodium floodlights. Rain slashed across the wide expanse of dark asphalt as the sleek white Gulfstream G650 taxied slowly toward the main departure runway, its twin jet engines whining loudly in the night air.
Inside the luxurious leather-lined cabin of the jet, Julian Vance paced back and forth, holding a glass of Scotch. Eleanor sat in a leather armchair, her face pale, frantically scrolling through her phone as she watched her bank accounts get frozen one by one.
"They frozen the Zurich account!" Eleanor screamed hysterically over the engine noise. "Julian! The Swiss accounts are locked! What are we going to do?!"
"Shut up!" Julian barked, slamming his glass down on the wooden table. "We have twenty million in physical bearer bonds in the briefcase! Once we land in Dubai, my associates will clear the rest! Just sit down and let the pilot take off!"
"Sir!" the pilot’s voice came over the cabin intercom, sharp and panicked. "Control tower just pulled our departure clearance! They’re telling us to hold on the taxiway!"
"Ignore them!" Julian roared, shoving open the cockpit door. "Take off now! I pay your salary, you idiot! Take off!"
"Sir, I can't! Look!" the pilot pointed through the front windshield.
Thick black smoke filled the air as two massive Federal Marshal SWAT vehicles crashed through the perimeter security fence, sliding sideways across the runway directly in front of the jet, completely blocking the taxi path.
Before Julian could scream an order, the roar of a heavy Sikorsky helicopter shook the entire aircraft. A black military-grade helicopter hovered thirty feet directly above the Gulfstream.
Tactical ropes dropped from the open side doors of the chopper. Half a dozen armored Federal Marshals slid down onto the top of the wings and fuselage, their tactical boots striking the metal frame with heavy thuds.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! ENGINE SHUTDOWN IMMEDIATELY!" a voice boomed from the helicopter’s megaphones.
"No! NO!" Eleanor shrieked, clutching the leather briefcase to her chest.
BOOM!
The main cabin door of the private jet was blown off its hinges by a controlled breaching charge. Tear gas cannisters bounced into the plush carpet, filling the luxury cabin with white smoke.
Armored agents swarmed into the plane, weapons raised. "HANDS IN THE AIR! ON THE GROUND NOW!"
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Julian pulled a small pistol from his coat, trying to aim at the lead agent, but a sniper shot fired from the hovering helicopter shattered the gun out of his hand, sending him screaming to the floor as blood splattered across the white carpet.
Within seconds, Julian Vance and Eleanor were pinned to the cabin floor, heavy iron handcuffs clicking tightly around their wrists.
