Chapter 12: Across the Tarmac
Julian dropped low, using the low concrete barrier of the fuel depot as cover as he crept closer to the edge of the active tarmac. The wind whipped across the open field, driving the cold rain sideways into his face and chilling him to the bone.
Across the wet concrete, Arthur Gable was handing the leather folder to a man in a pilot’s uniform who stood waiting by the airstairs of the Gulfstream. The nurse carrying the bassinet stood a few paces behind them, her face turned away from the driving rain.
Julian checked the distance. Three hundred yards of open, floodlit concrete separated him from the aircraft. If he ran across the tarmac now, the security guards stationed near the hangar would spot him instantly before he covered a quarter of the distance.
He scanned the perimeter for an alternative angle. To his left, a drainage culvert ran beneath the concrete apron, emptying out near the edge of the private hangars. It was a narrow, rusted metal pipe, likely slick with runoff water and mud, but it offered complete concealment from the floodlights above.
Without hesitating, Julian dropped to his knees and slid into the mouth of the culvert. The interior smelled of stagnant water, rust, and damp earth. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, the jagged edges of the corrugated metal scraping against the shoulders of his jacket. The roaring sound of the aircraft’s auxiliary engines grew louder and louder with every foot he advanced, vibrating through the concrete floor above his head.
After what felt like an eternity, a square patch of gray light appeared ahead of him. Julian crawled faster, ignoring the sharp stones cutting into his palms, until he reached the outlet of the pipe.
He poked his head out cautiously. The culvert emptied directly behind a large utility shed situated twenty feet from the tail of the Gulfstream.
Julian pulled himself out of the pipe, wiping mud from his face and hands. He crouched behind the corrugated metal wall of the shed, taking a deep, steadying breath. Through the gap between the shed and the aircraft's wing, he could see the nurse climbing the metal stairs into the cabin, followed closely by Arthur Gable.
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The pilot reached up and pulled the airstairs inward, the hydraulic motor whining softly as the door sealed shut with a heavy, mechanical thud.
Julian leaped out from behind the shed and sprinted across the remaining wet concrete directly toward the fuselage, his boots slapping loudly against the tarmac as the jet’s main turbines began to spool up for takeoff.
