Neither man nor woman. Could it be that Dewatre was correct? That aliens had delivered these devices to whomever Scott had gotten them from? But why would they? What would they have to gain? It just didn’t make any sense.
The bright light of sodium lights flooded the inside of the hangar. In its shadowless glare, Caitlin saw at least three planes. One looked like a DC-3 or maybe it was a converted C-47. One was a Brasilia turboprop, and one was a sleek new Learjet. The jet faced the closed doors.
A man sat on the steps of the Learjet reading a paper. When the wind banged the door shut behind them, he looked up, and then set his paper aside.
In French, he said, “Alain, you have her. Good, did you have any trouble?”
“A little, but we should get moving. Trouble seems to follow this assignment. How long before we can get airborne?”
“It will take a couple of minutes to do the final preflight on the airplane. You call for takeoff clearance, while Carl and I start the engines. How’s the weather? Has it gotten any better?”
“No, worse if anything.”
“No bother, we’re fully equipped.”
“Get the engines started. I’ll join you after I find Ms. Maxwell a seat. Have Carl get the doors now, I don’t want to waste any time.”
“Right. I’ll wake Carl.”
“Did you get all that John? You don’t have much time,” Jill transmitted.
“I’m turning off Powers now. I should be there in a minute or so.”
“Please be careful, John. You know I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’ll be careful. Aren’t I always?”
Dewatre pushed her toward the stairs as the pilot disappeared inside the cabin.
Caitlin turned toward Dewatre. “Look, isn’t there some other way we can do this. I get acrophobia real bad.”
“Yes, there is another way. I can give you an injection that will knock you out until we land outside Paris. Which would you prefer?”
“Neither really, I don’t like needles either.”
“Ms. Maxwell, your little stalling tactics are getting tiresome. Either march that cute derrière of yours up those steps or I will knock you down, give you the injection, and throw you in the cargo hold for the trip.”
Caitlin gave him a little pout for effect and then turned and walked unhurriedly up the steps.
“I’m entering the hangar area now, Caitlin. Where are you?” John broadcast.
“In the third hangar, we’re just going into the airplane. It’s the big Learjet parked just inside the main doors.”
Caitlin stepped into the cabin and bumped into a young man who rubbed his eyes sleepily. He muttered an apology and moved to one side to let her pass.
Dewatre gave the man a disapproving stare and then joined Caitlin. The cabin was about twenty feet long and five wide. There weren’t many seats, perhaps enough for ten people.
Dewatre motioned her toward two seats that faced each other across a small table near the cabin door.
“Sit there, facing forward.”
Caitlin moved to the chair, she had to stoop to walk, sat down, and waited. Dewatre set the case with the helmet onto the table and flipped the latches. Lifting the lid, he smiled down at the foam-encased helmet, but only for a second. His features puzzled, and then grimaced as he turned toward her. “There are two empty positions here. What was in them?”
“I don’t know. That’s the way it was when we got it.”
He stared at her, his pupils wide, his lips curled back from his teeth as if he were going to snarl. His gaze dropped to her chest. He blinked once then suddenly lunged at her. Before she could move, his fingers closed on the neck of her sweater and yanked, popping the top two buttons off as he exposed the swell of her breasts and the gold egg nestled there.
“Mon deus! You lying little bitch.”
She slapped his hand away and moved to close her blouse even as his hand returned to slap against the side of her head.
Stars swam before her gaze.
She tried to rise, and his fist slammed into her jaw.
***
John heard the brief exchange as Dewatre discovered the missing eggs, but then the connection was broken, and no amount of shouting over the link brought any response from Caitlin. He was almost to the hangar. Its great doors were already rolling back, exposing a sleek Learjet 45 to the snowy night.
John took his Colt from its holster and aimed the Jeep at the front of the jet. He waited until the last minute to brake, then cut the wheel sharply to the side putting the Jeep into a sideways slide that narrowly missed the hangar doors before the Jeep bumped up against the jet’s nose gear.
He threw the transmission into park. A bullet starred the windshield as he opened the door. He dropped to the pavement and hit the concrete with a jarring impact that sent waves of pain through his back. Rolling sideways, he went under the Jeep while looking for the shooter.
John spotted a man running toward him from the corner of the hangar. It wasn’t Dewatre, but he held a weapon aimed at the Jeep.
Still rolling, John fired twice and saw the man go down with a splash of red high on his right thigh. John came to a stop against the jet’s nose wheels and then scrambled on his belly toward the right side of the plane.
A shot pinged off the side of the Jeep and passed close by him. John turned to find the man he’d already shot was sitting up and drawing a bead on him. John fired twice more, and the man
