Chapter 13: Grounded on the Tarmac
“Stop!” Julian screamed, his voice instantly swallowed by the rising roar of the jet engines.
He slammed his hands against the pressurized metal hull of the Gulfstream just as the aircraft began to inch forward on the tarmac. The vibration of the massive turbines rattled through his entire body, but he refused to let go, sliding his hands along the curved fuselage as the plane taxied slowly toward the main runway.
Inside the cabin, through the reinforced glass of the passenger porthole, Arthur Gable looked down with an expression of mild annoyance, like a commuter watching a stray dog chase a train. Behind him, the nurse could be seen strapping the insulated bassinet securely into a forward bulkhead seat.
Julian realized the futility of chasing a moving jet on foot. He spun around, searching frantically for a way to stop them before they reached the active runway. His eyes landed on the orange safety cones lining the ground service path. Without thinking, he grabbed a heavy rubber wheel chock from the nearby ground cart and hurled it with all his remaining strength directly into the path of the aircraft’s nose gear.
The heavy rubber wedge slid beneath the rolling tire with a sickening crunch. The pilot slammed on the brakes, the massive jet screeching to an abrupt halt as the emergency braking system engaged, throwing the aircraft violently forward before settling back onto its struts.
Inside the cockpit, warning alarms began to wail shrilly.
A moment later, the cabin door unlatched and popped outward. Arthur Gable pushed the door open, stepping onto the top of the airstairs with an expression of cold fury.
“Are you completely insane, Mr. Vance?” Arthur shouted over the whine of the idling engines. “You are interfering with a federally cleared transport order authorized by the county probate court!”
Julian leaped up the first two steps of the airstairs, grabbing the aluminum handrail and glaring up at the attorney. “You don't have a court order, Arthur! You have a forged family trust addendum and a kidnapped infant! Where is my child?”
Before Arthur could reply, another figure appeared at the top of the stairs—Evelyn Vance, wrapped in a dark cashmere trench coat, her blonde hair whipped by the jet wash. She looked down at her son with absolute, chilling detachment.
“You never know when to quit, Julian,” Evelyn said, her voice carrying clearly over the engine noise. “You think you’re being a hero, but you are destroying any remaining chance your family has of retaining its standing. The child is under the care of foundation specialists. You cannot stop this.”
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“I just stopped your plane, Mother,” Julian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl as he stepped up onto the landing platform, standing face-to-face with the woman who had tried to control his entire existence. “And if you don’t hand over my child right now, I’m calling the federal marshals myself and exposing every offshore asset account tied to this foundation.”
Evelyn’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second—the first real sign of panic she had ever shown.
