As soon as Olsen spotted it, he nodded. “I want this transfer to go as quickly as possible.”
“That’s the plan. Once she’s transferred to the other plane, we’ll proceed with identification. That should take no more than fifteen minutes. After that, she’ll be back in the air.” Peter had hired Steven Howard and Rickey Larson at Quinn’s request to serve as “protection” for Olsen and the former Office chief, and to handle the identification process.
Peter’s explanation seemed to satisfy Olsen. He touched his hands-free earpiece, waited a moment, then said, “It’s Olsen, sir…Yes, almost here…How’s the visual there?…Good, good… Call me if there’s anything you want to ask her.”
Tucked half a mile away in the woods was a trailer, but not the kind someone would take camping to Yosemite or the Rockies. It was a high-tech surveillance station, complete with monitors; recording equipments; microwave, satellite, and radio receivers; several comfortable chairs; and a stocked refrigerator.
The trailer had been moved into position three hours prior to the scheduled landing time, ready for its guests to arrive.
This had been the hardest part of Peter’s end of Quinn’s plan. Hardest, that was, next to agreeing to help in the first place. If anything went wrong, they were all doomed, but knowing what Mygatt and the others had done, there was no way Peter could just stand around and do nothing. The secret world was not always the most moral of places, but there were lines that should never be crossed. Mygatt and Green and Olsen hadn’t just stepped over one of the lines, they had rocketed miles onto the other side.
After convincing Olsen that bringing Mila to Virginia was the right thing, Peter had waited thirty minutes, then offered up another idea.
“If you’d like, I could have cameras set up, and the senator and Mr. Green could watch the identification remotely.”
As Peter knew would be the case, Olsen loved the idea.
In a hesitant voice, he added, “We could do a satellite feed or even route it through the Internet. It all depends on how worried you might be about someone hacking the signal.”
Again, Olsen’s reaction was predictable. “That is something that cannot happen.”
“Chances are, everything will be fine, but if you’re asking for an absolute guarantee, I can’t give you that.”
Olsen frowned. “We’ll just record it, then. They can watch it later.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” Peter paused the appropriate amount of time, then said, “There is another option, if you’re interested.”
“What would that be?”
“I can get access to a remote surveillance trailer that we can set up close to the airport, and use a microwave link to relay the feeds. No one will be able to tap in. It’s the most secure way if they’d like to watch live.”
Olsen said he’d ask, and when he came back ten minutes later and said both Mygatt and Green would like to utilize the trailer option, Peter wasn’t surprised. When presented with an opportunity to micromanage an important event, he had found that people in power seldom said no.
The plane landed with a squeal of rubber. The roar of the engines took over, and finally the aircraft settled down to a pedestrian pace as it headed over to where Peter and Olsen were waiting.
The jet made a large circle just before it reached the terminal. When it stopped, it was beside the second plane, facing in the opposite direction. This would make it easier to move the prisoner from one craft to the other.
As the engines wound down, the door opened. Standing at the top was a tanned man in a suit and tinted glasses. Peter had never seen him before, but that was probably good. It meant Olsen was unlikely to know him.
The man lowered the built-in staircase and disappeared back into the plane for a moment. When he reemerged, Mila Voss was with him.
A low, satisfied grunt reverberated from Olsen’s throat. “It’s definitely her.”
“Just to be safe, I think we should still do the checks.”
“Fine,” Olsen said, though it was a halfhearted assent.
Only the suited man and Mila exited the plane. Peter had explained to Olsen that the idea was to keep things low-key on the off chance someone might be watching. Mila even had a coat draped over her hands, covering the cuffs around her wrists.
As she and the suited man crossed the tarmac, Peter folded his arms, right over left. Mila walked with her head drooped, as if defeated, while the man with her kept a steady hand on her back. When they were within five feet of Peter and Olsen, the man told her to stop.
To Peter, he said, “I was instructed to see her all the way onto the plane.”
“Correct,” Peter said. “Proceed.”
“Let’s go,” the man said, guiding Mila toward the stairs.
Just before they reached the first step, Peter called out, “Hold on.”
The man turned back around. “Yes, sir?”
Peter walked over, his back now to the other craft. As he’d hoped, Olsen did the same.
“I just want to take a look,” Peter said.
He put a hand under Mila’s chin and lifted up her face. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as if she hardly knew he was there.
“What are you doing?” Olsen asked.
Ignoring him, Peter asked the man, “Is she drugged?”
“No, sir. She’s been like that since she boarded the plane.”
“What about when you captured her?”
“That was a different part of the team, sir. I was waiting at the airfield so I can’t say.”
Peter moved Mila’s face side to side as if checking for cuts and bruises.
After a few seconds, the tanned man said, “She was asleep right before we landed.”
That was the cue.
“All right,” Peter said. He took a step back. “Go ahead. Take her on.”
Quinn watched through a narrow slit at the bottom of one of the window shades as Daeng walked Mila toward the other plane. They stopped in front of Peter and the other man, shared a few words, then continued toward the stairs.
This was another point where Peter could blow things for them, but Daeng stopped and turned, Peter and the man with him walked over, their backs now to the newly arrived aircraft, just as discussed.
“Now,” Quinn said.
In silent succession, Nate, Orlando, and Quinn exited the plane, slipped under the fuselage, and made for the trees fifty yards on the other side. As soon as they were safely under cover, Quinn took a look back. Though his view was limited, it looked like the others had boarded the second plane.
“This way,” Orlando whispered. She was looking at the map on her phone that showed their current location in relation to the trailer.
They made their way through the woods, careful to make as little noise as possible.
“I don’t know, Quinn,” Peter had said after Quinn laid out everything for him before boarding the plane in Venice.
“You have a choice to make. It’s not a small one, I know, but let’s be honest. Is there really any answer but yes?”
“You’ve got to give me a little time to think.”
“You have until we get to Geneva.”
Peter’s response would come in one of two ways: either Quinn and the others would be taken into custody in Geneva upon disembarking the flight from Venice, or they wouldn’t. That would mean the plane and the equipment Quinn had requested would be waiting for them.
Option two turned out to be the winner.
Somewhere in the woods ahead they would find three guards. They knew this because of the way Peter had
