Part 29 (1/2)

Landing, they taxied past the terminal and toward a short line of private jets then parked, the motors decelerating. Their Gulfstream was the largest one there. A row of small-craft hangars stood off to the side.

Jack and George left the c.o.c.kpit and pulled on their dark blue cashmere jackets, which matched their dark blue cashmere pants. Their s.h.i.+rts were crisp white, their ties matching-blue and orange stripes. They adjusted their flat-topped hats. s.h.i.+ny gold wings were pinned atop their shoulders. There was a slight bulge inside each's jacket where their pistols were holstered.

”My G.o.d, you look like professionals,” Morgan said.

”Naturally.” Jack gestured. ”If you please, George.”

”Delighted.” George opened the jet's door and let down the staircase.

Warm, dry air wafted into the plane.

Bosa handed Jack a wad of euros. In Jack's other hand were six pa.s.sports-four were for Bosa, Jack, George, and Morgan and were as realistic as a small fortune could buy, one was for Judd from the selection of cover ident.i.ties he had brought from home in his backpack, while the last one was more obviously fraudulent, despite Doug's fancy computer work applying Eva's photo.

Jack headed down the staircase. George followed.

Morgan and Bosa remained in their seats, while Judd and Eva peered out their windows at the transaction below. The customs inspector was a sharp-eyed man with a drooping mustache, a gray uniform, and brown loafers. His gaze was on the euros.

Judd watched as the man pocketed the cash. His smile was huge, but then the tip was probably two months of income for him. Without examining the pa.s.sports, he stamped them and handed them back. He gazed up at the jet and waved. And then for the briefest of moments, his expression changed. There was surprise and some kind of recognition.

”What just happened?” Eva asked.

”I'm not sure,” Judd said.

Bosa frowned. ”Is there a problem?”

”We'll let you know,” Judd told him.

The inspector started to back off. Jack put his hand over his heart and nodded, saying good-bye. The inspector rallied and placed his hand over his heart in response. Then he hurriedly walked away.

Jack pushed his hat up on the back of his head and put his hands on his hips, watching the customs official's retreat. He had sensed something had happened, too.

All of a sudden the customs man broke into a trot and put a cell phone to his ear.

Immediately, Jack and George ran, chasing him.

On the plane, Judd jumped up. ”We've got a problem, Bosa.”

Judd bolted down the staircase, Eva close behind. Their feet pounded over the tarmac. Ahead of them, Jack and George huffed, their arms pumping as they pursued.

Judd pa.s.sed the older pair just as the customs official glanced over his shoulder. His eyes opened wide in alarm, and he put on a burst of speed.

But Judd was close. He accelerated and rammed his shoulder into the inspector's back. Propelled forward, the man stumbled, crashed, and slid belly first across the tarmac. Somehow, Judd kept his balance, ran past, and pivoted.

As he hurried back, Jack and George grabbed the man under his arms and hauled him up to his feet.

”What in h.e.l.l was that all about?” Jack asked him in Arabic.

The customs official panted. His face dripped sweat. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a crumpled paper.

Two shots rang out. The inspector's throat exploded. Blood and flesh spurted.

Judd grabbed Eva and pulled her down. Jack and George hit the ground, too. Peering up and around, Judd saw two men with automatic rifles standing outside the pa.s.senger terminal. They aimed again.

Suddenly a fusillade of gunfire exploded from the plane, ripping through the attackers' torsos.

Judd turned again, seeing Bosa standing at the top of the jet's stairs, a menacing figure, expressionless, an AK-47 in his hands. The attackers had been focused on the customs official. Bosa had been focused on them. Whatever the customs inspector knew, the attackers did not want him to tell it.

Judd scanned the area. No one else was in sight, but that would not last forever.

”We've got to get the h.e.l.l out of here!” Bosa yelled from the staircase. ”Jack and George, stash the bodies in one of those hangars.”

In a flurry of activity, everyone rushed to do their jobs. Judd s.n.a.t.c.hed up the inspector's cell phone and the crumpled paper then sprinted to the jet, following Bosa and Eva inside.

Morgan was waiting for them with their backpacks.

Bosa barked orders to Doug. ”Tell Jack and George to fly this crate out of here ASAP, rent a new one, and fly back. This time they should land at Al-Rasheed. Text, don't call unless you absolutely have to.”

Leaving Doug behind, they hurried down the staircase again. The bodies of the customs inspector and the two other men were no longer where they had fallen. Jack and George were at the row of small hangars, dragging them inside.

In the lead, Judd and Eva sprinted toward the gate in the chain-link fence.

”Where are the police?” Eva asked as they ran. ”At least airport security should be here. They had to have heard the gunshots. There aren't even any sirens.”

”Welcome to Baghdad,” Judd said grimly. He gestured at the skyline, where two more plumes of brown and gray smoke spread upward. ”Today's bombings are our compet.i.tion for official attention. Otherwise, security would be crawling up to our hairlines. Right now, it's good for us. Later on, it might not be.”

The lock on the gate had been shot out. Judd shoved the gate open, and they jogged to the pair of black SUVs, stopping between them where they were least exposed. He peered back across the tarmac-Bosa and Morgan were hurrying to catch up.

He opened the crumpled paper. ”Let's see what set off the customs inspector.”

It was a flyer. The centerpiece was a photo of Eva and him, crouched in shadows but peering up. Judd translated the first three lines from the Arabic: 10,000 REWARD For the Location of Greg & Courtney Roman ”Then it goes on to say we're in our thirties and either American or British,” he told her. ”There's no name to contact, but a local Baghdad number to call.”

”When the customs man looked up at the plane, he must've recognized us,” she said.

Judd was studying the photo. ”This was shot at the back of Liza's garage. It's probably from one of Liza's security cameras. We told her we were hunting for Seymour, remember?”

”She could've easily sold the photo and information to him. Maybe a copy of the CD, too. G.o.d knows how many places the flyer's been distributed.” Eva shook her head. ”We just got to Baghdad, and we're already blown.”

They stared worriedly into each other's eyes. Perhaps it was the constant strain of being on the run and now finding out the danger was intensifying. Or perhaps it was the frustration that came from two people in love whose paths had intersected for a few unforgettable days and then cruelly, by their own choices, diverged. Whatever it was, Judd was afraid one or both might die before he could tell her how much she meant to him, that he was a sorry-a.s.s fool, that if he had to do it all over again.... He tried to control his pounding heart. Tried not to reach for her. But then he saw something s.h.i.+ft in her gaze, a softening, and somehow tension left her face. She stepped into his arms. They stood there in the bright Baghdad sun sheltered between the two big SUVs, holding each other tightly as if nothing else mattered.

”G.o.d, you feel good,” she murmured. ”I'm sorry I doubted you.”

”I'd never hurt you, Eva,” he said earnestly. ”You're more important to me than my own life-”

She touched her fingertips to his lips. ”Don't say that.”