Page 59 of Serving my Dragon
“Maybe we could go outside for just a few minutes.”
There was a dinging as he used his keycard to unlock the door, and as it opened, Lorenzo played his part.
“There you are,” bellowed her husband. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Just having a cigarette,” Sophia huffed.
“More like cheating on me again.”
“Now listen, sir.” The guard tried to intervene, and Lorenzo went full jealous husband.
“Don’t think I’m stupid. I know what’s going on here. Wait until I tell your supervisor.”
“No need for that,” stuttered the guard.
“We’ll see what your boss says,” Lorenza threatened.
As hoped, the guard followed in his wake, arguing against being reprimanded. Juan and I moved quickly, reaching the door where Sophia had dropped her bag to keep it wedged open.
“Good job,” I murmured in passing.
Juan chuckled. “That was excellent. Now go help Lorenzo.”
Their verbal spat would provide a second distraction to ensure security had other things to keep them busy while Juan and I headed for the hangar holding one of the two jets to see if it held Kayleigh and Pollita.
Outside, the storm still raged, drenching us in seconds. The occasional flash of lightning provided an eerie and fleeting glimpse of the tarmac and the buildings.
“This way.” Juan led me at a quick pace towards a hangar a fair distance from the main terminal. The downpour made visibility poor which worked in our favor, especially since it kept most employees inside. Smart, since getting struck by a bolt of electricity would most likely kill. Not a good thought to have, though, as I raced under the thunderous sky.
Juan reached the side of the hangar first and flattened against it. Once we got a peek and confirmed if it held Kayleigh and Polly, we’d message the others and wait for them to join us. The more of us, the better. Those gringos had come armed with tasers to my uncle’s house. Started the place on fire. Had been willing to kill. We had to be ready for anything.
Juan had wanted us to be armed until he realized the difficulty in getting weapons past security. The airport crawled with measures to prevent it. Would that apply to passengers of private jets? We could only hope.
The small side door to enter the hangar boasted a square window. At Juan’s nod, I glanced through it.
And saw nothing because of a stack of boxes.
I shook my head and murmured, “I don’t have a clear line of sight.”
As I spoke, we heard the rumble of machinery and Juan’s brows rose. “Sounds like they’re opening the hangar doors.”
“Surely they haven’t gotten permission to leave?”
“Doesn’t seem likely. Let’s go see,” my uncle whispered.
We crept to the corner of the building and paused. A good thing, because we heard voices.
“How long did you microwave that thing for?” exclaimed a male voice with a nasal twang.
“I thought I punched in thirty seconds,” a second man replied in a deep tone.
“It’s fucking burnt.”
“I know,” grumbled Deep Voice. “Boss is pissed.”
“No shit. Place smells like smoke and burning beans.”
“He’s the one who told me to find something for that lizard to eat.”
