Chapter 7 - The Arrival of the Black Van
The heavy black van idled on the tarmac, its low-frequency engine rumble vibrating through the thick glass of the terminal windows. Two men in tactical gear stepped out of the sliding side door, their faces obscured by dark balaclavas. They didn't carry weapons openly, but their deliberate, synchronized movements signaled professional operatives. Claire stepped backward, her designer heels clicking frantically against the floor as she grabbed Elena’s arm, pulling the other woman closer.
"Who are those men, Miller?" Claire demanded, her voice sharp with adrenaline. "You said you were federal. Those men look like a hit squad."
Agent Miller didn't answer immediately. He reached into his coat and finally drew a small, suppressed automatic pistol, holding it down against his thigh where passing travelers couldn't easily spot it.
"They’re clean-up crew," Miller said coldly, his eyes fixed on the exterior doors. "And Vance here just signed his own death warrant by getting caught by his wives in the middle of a live drop."
Daniel backed away from Miller, his face draining of all remaining color. He looked at Claire, then at Elena, utter desperation in his eyes.
"I’m sorry," Daniel whispered, tears finally breaking free and tracking down his cheeks. "I never meant for either of you to get pulled into this. I thought if I kept you apart, kept you safe in your separate lives, you’d never have to know the monsters I was dealing with."
"You are the monster, Daniel," Elena said, her voice completely devoid of warmth. "You lied to my face every morning for five years. You kissed me goodbye before flying off to your other wife. You built your entire life on a foundation of garbage."
Before Daniel could reply, a muffled thud echoed from the heavy service door behind the airline check-in counter. Someone was trying to force their way into the secured terminal sector from the baggage claim stairwell. Miller raised his weapon, pivoting toward the sound with practiced precision.
"Get behind the seating rows! Now!" Miller barked, shoving Daniel roughly toward the metal chairs.
Claire pulled Elena down with her, crouching behind a row of padded airport seats. The sparkling light-blue fabric of her dress snagged on a metal bolt, tearing slightly, but she didn't care. Adrenaline surged through her veins, sharpening every detail—the hum of the vending machines, the smell of burnt coffee, the cold sweat on Daniel's neck as he huddled beside them.
The service door burst open with a deafening crash, splintering the wooden frame. Two masked men rushed through, raising suppressed submachine guns.
Miller fired twice in rapid succession. Puff-puff. The first intruder staggered backward, dropping his weapon as he hit the linoleum, but the second intruder returned fire immediately.
Bullet holes punched through the glass partition above their heads, raining sharp shards of safety glass down onto Claire’s shoulders. Elena screamed, ducking lower and burying her face in Claire’s shoulder.
"Stay down!" Miller yelled over the gunfire, ducking behind a concrete structural pillar as the second intruder advanced down the corridor toward them.
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Daniel looked at the fallen weapon of the first intruder sliding across the floor toward his feet, then looked up at Claire and Elena trembling behind the chairs. With a sudden, reckless surge of courage, Daniel lunged out from cover and grabbed the heavy firearm off the floor.
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