Chapter 3 - The Man In The Gray Jacket
The airport police officer moved first.
“Sir! Stop!”
The man in gray cut between two families, knocked a suitcase onto its side, and pushed through a line of travelers. Mercer pulled me behind a concrete pillar as the officer chased him.
“Stay here,” he said.
“I can help.”
“You can help by keeping that report.”
I hated being told to stand still. I hated it more because he was right.
The man reached the escalators, glanced over his shoulder, and vaulted the low divider. He landed badly but kept moving. Two airport officers caught up with him near the baggage claim entrance.
A shout rang out. Then another.
No shots. No dramatic tackle. Just three people struggling to control one frightened man while travelers backed away.
Mercer spoke into his phone. “I need his identity and his access history. Now.”
A minute later, an officer returned with a plastic evidence bag. Inside was a phone, a temporary airport contractor badge, and a folded piece of paper.
The paper had my name on it.
Not my rank. Not my unit.
Just CLAIRE MORGAN, written in block letters, with the gate number beneath it.
“Someone knew your itinerary,” Mercer said.
“I didn't give it to anyone outside travel.”
“Then someone had access.”
He looked at the paper again. “This is no longer just a misconduct case.”
The airport police took the man away. He refused to answer questions. His contractor badge belonged to a company that serviced private lounges and restricted corridors. The badge had been reported missing two days earlier.
Carter appeared at the edge of the crowd, accompanied by the staff sergeant.
“Ma'am,” he said, awkwardly. “I didn't know any of this was happening.”
I studied him. “You didn't need to know.”
His face tightened.
“I was out of line.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn't have touched your sleeve.”
“No.”
He seemed to expect me to make it easier for him. I didn't.
Mason stepped forward. “I'm sorry too, ma'am. I should've stopped him.”
“You should have,” I said. “Next time, don't wait for a general to give you permission to do the right thing.”
The staff sergeant nodded once.
Mercer returned. “We need to leave.”
As we moved toward the secure exit, my phone vibrated again.
This time it was a photograph.
May you like
My document case, sitting on the seat where I'd left it for less than thirty seconds.
The caption read: WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE CARRYING.
