Chapter 6 - The Tiger’s Trap
Two guards shoved me roughly forward, forcing me onto my knees on the cold asphalt of the airstrip. Jack was grabbed from behind as well, his arms pinned tightly to his sides by another pair of heavies.
Owen stood over us, casually tossing the tactical camera from one hand to the other. He pressed the delete button, erasing the memory card with a slow, deliberate thumb movement.
“Such a shame,” Owen sneered. “All that lovely photography, gone in a second. Did you really think you could sneak up on a secure operation of this scale?”
“You’re smuggling contraband using my company’s aircraft, Owen,” I said, my voice steady despite the bruises forming on my arms. “The moment this plane takes off, federal authorities will be waiting at every regional radar intercept.”
Owen laughed, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. “Federal authorities? Elena, sweetie, the regional director of aviation safety is on Victor Sterling’s payroll. By the time morning comes, this flight plan will be officially logged as an authorized routine corporate relocation.”
He crouched down, grabbing me by the chin and forcing me to look him in the eye. His fingers were icy, his eyes devoid of any human warmth.
“You should have stayed in the house and played the grieving, incompetent wife,” Owen whispered harshly. “You could have kept your alimony and your little country club membership. But you had to play hero. And now, you’re going to witness the final flight of Vale Air.”
He stood up, turning to the pilot waiting on the steps of the transport plane. “Get the engines started. We’re taking off immediately. Load these two into the back of the transport as special guests. They’re going to experience an unscheduled, highly confidential descent.”
Panic surged through my chest, but I forced it down, locking my emotions behind a wall of ice. They were going to put us on the plane and dump us over the mountains to make our disappearance look like a tragic bush-piloting accident.
The guards yanked Jack and me to our feet, dragging us toward the open cargo ramp of the Vale Air transport.
As we reached the top of the ramp, I caught Jack’s eye. The old bush pilot didn't look scared; instead, a grim, defiant smile touched the corners of his mouth. He gave me a microscopic nod.
We were thrown into the dark cargo hold, landing hard against a stack of empty supply crates. The heavy hydraulic ramp slowly whined upward, sealing shut and plunging the interior into pitch blackness, save for the dim amber glow of the emergency exit lights.
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A moment later, the twin turboprops roared to life, shaking the entire airframe as the pilot taxied down the unpaved strip.
We were airborne. Trapped inside our own stolen plane, flying toward an uncertain, deadly horizon.
