Chapter 5 - The Airstrip Standoff
The old military airstrip was a desolate stretch of cracked asphalt surrounded by rusty chain-link fences. In the distance, the sleek, white form of the Whitmore private jet loomed, its twin engines already whining to life, kicking up a massive spray of water into the night air.
I smashed the catering van through the perimeter gate, the metal fence tearing away with a horrific screech.
Through the blurred windshield, I saw a battered old pickup truck parked crookedly near the boarding stairs of the plane. It was Maren's.
Beside her truck, two of Tessa's personal security guards were dragging Maren away from a large, white transport van. She was fighting like a lioness, screaming, kicking, scratching at their faces.
"Let her go!" I roared, jumping out of the van before it even came to a complete stop. I slid across the wet tarmac, throwing my weight into the first guard. The impact knocked him to the ground, his gun skittering across the wet asphalt.
"Rowan!" Maren cried, her face soaked with rain and tears. Her eyes were wide with terror, but when she looked at me, there was no more pity. There was only a mother’s desperate hope. "Clara is inside the van! They’ve hooked her up to machines!"
Before I could answer, a sharp voice pierced through the roar of the jet engines.
"Step back, Rowan. Both of you."
Tessa stood at the top of the airplane stairs, holding a sleek black pistol, pointed directly at Maren's chest. Behind her, two medics were rushing a small, enclosed incubator up the ramp into the cabin. Inside the glass capsule, I could see a tiny, fragile bundle wrapped in pink blankets.
My daughter.
"Tessa, stop!" I yelled, raising my hands, stepping in front of Maren to shield her. "It’s over! The police know everything. The media is broadcasting your names across the country. You can't run from this!"
Tessa laughed, a hysterical, manic sound that was swallowed by the storm. "You think I care about this country? Once we land in Zurich, my father will be saved, and we will disappear under new names with billions of dollars. The law can't touch us there!"
"She's a baby, Tessa!" Maren screamed from behind me, her voice breaking. "She is my baby! How can you be so heartless?"
"She is a miracle match," Tessa snapped, her eyes wild. "She was born to save the Whitmore family. Now, Rowan, step aside, or I will put a bullet in your precious ex-wife right here."
I looked at the incubator disappearing into the plane. I looked at Maren, whose hand was gripping the back of my jacket, trembling. I knew I couldn't let that plane take off. If the doors closed, we would never see Clara again.
"Tessa," I said, taking a slow step forward. "Take me instead. I am the CEO of Vance Global. My bone marrow, my organs—I am a direct blood relative to the child. If you take me, you have a permanent adult resource. Just leave the baby with her mother."
Tessa hesitated, her eyes narrowing. For a fraction of a second, she weighed the economic value of having me as a captive resource.
That second was all I needed.
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Maren, seeing the distraction, grabbed a heavy metal tire iron from the back of her truck and hurled it with all her might at the remaining guard on the ground who was reaching for his gun. It struck his shoulder, knocking him out.
I lunged forward, tackling Tessa’s legs just as she pulled the trigger.
