“Look. I am
The gestures worked. The vehicle started rolling forward on a course to cut Logan off.
“Ruth, I know that. But there
She was silent for a moment. “Dammit. You’re going to make a habit of this, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying not to.”
“You’re obviously not trying hard enough. Hold on.”
As he waited, the Suburban pulled to a stopped ten feet from the building, then both front doors opened, and the two men who’d remained behind got out.
“All right,” she said. “I’m ready.”
He gave her the plane’s identification number. “I really need to know who owns it, and where it’s supposed to be headed.”
“How soon?”
“Now would be good.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
The line went dead. Logan, though, kept the phone pressed to his ear, and nodded like he was listening.
As soon as he was within earshot of the men waiting for him, he said, “Yeah, they’re all secure. Just doing a final check of the east buildings….No. Should be there in ten minutes….Okay. See you then.” He touched the screen, pretending to hang up. As he neared the Suburban, he smiled. “Evening, gentlemen. I assume you guys have a pass to be out here.”
The two men eyed him suspiciously, then exchanged a look. “Sure. Of course we do,” the older-looking one said.
“Can I take a look at it, please?” Logan stopped in front of them, the smile still on his face.
The older one looked at his colleague. “Get it.”
The other man walked back to the Suburban, and pulled a paper pass off the dash. When he returned, he handed it over. Logan gave it a careful look.
“Which one of you is Mr. Williams?” he asked.
“I am,” the guy who’d been doing the talking said.
“So you would be Mr. Dean?” Logan said to the other one.
“Uh-huh.”
Logan looked at his watch. “Your pass expires in just a couple of minutes. You should probably be on your way.”
“You work for the airport?” Mr. Williams asked.
“Night security.”
Mr. Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Then where’s your uniform?”
“I’m not a rent-a-cop. I own the security company, so I can wear whatever I damn well please.”
In the distance, Logan could hear the jet’s engine revving up and getting ready for take-off.
“Were you here for that plane?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Mr. Williams said.
“Well, if you weren’t here for that plane, then what are you here for?”
Before either of them could answer, the jet began roaring down the runway, making it impossible to hear anything. Both men turned their heads to look.
Mr. Williams was standing in the unfortunate position closest to Logan, so he was the first to go down. An open palm uppercut under the chin did the trick, sending a surprise shock to his brain that instantly shut his system down. His partner didn’t notice until it was too late, and quickly joined his friend on the asphalt.
Logan made sure they were both out, then searched them.
They each were carrying pistols, Smith & Wessons. As for IDs, though they both did have driver’s licenses in the names of Williams and Dean respectively, they also had ones in the names of Hoover and Jenson, too. So it wasn’t a leap to assume their real names were none of the above.
Logan checked the door of the building. It was locked, but only by a single dead bolt. He picked it quickly, then hauled the two men inside. With some duct tape he found in one of the cabinets, he secured their wrists and ankles, then splashed water from a cooler in Williams’ face. It took three cups before Williams finally sputtered, and opened his eyes.
“What the hell?” Williams said, as he realized he was restrained. He looked around, then caught sight of Logan. “Let me go, you son of a bitch! You’re messing with the wrong person, man.”
