Chapter 10 - The Cabin Door Opens
The suffocating smell of scorched rubber and heated jet fuel hung thick in the damp air as I slammed my car door shut and broke into a sprint across the open tarmac.
The two state police cruisers had already formed a tactical wedge in front of the charter's nose cone, their doors flung open with officers taking cover behind them, service weapons drawn.
"Cut the engines and step out with your hands visible!" an officer shouted through a bullhorn, his voice echoing loudly across the flat concrete expanse.
Inside the cabin of the private jet, through the tinted rectangular windows, I could see two frantic figures moving around. One was the pilot, sitting frozen with his hands raised high in surrender. The other was Jonathan Vance, standing in the aisle, clutching a heavy leather briefcase to his chest with wild, panicked eyes.
The emergency exit door of the charter hissed loudly, pneumatic pressure releasing as the fold-out stairs tumbled downward onto the tarmac.
Jonathan Vance appeared at the top of the stairs, blinking against the harsh daylight, his expensive suit rumpled and sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. He took one look at the armed officers, then his eyes locked onto me as I marched up to the foot of the stairs, my face carved from stone.
"Samuel!" Jonathan called out, forcing a desperate, oily smile as he clutched the briefcase tighter. "Thank god! There's been a massive misunderstanding—this whole thing is just a civil real estate dispute, nothing more—"
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"Step down the stairs, Jonathan," I said, my voice dead calm, cutting right through his excuses like a razor. "And leave the briefcase right where it is."
Jonathan's smile vanished entirely. His grip on the leather handle tightened until his knuckles turned chalk white, his eyes darting frantically between my face and the drawn weapons of the state troopers surrounding the base of the stairs.
