Page 64 of Air Force One
“That isn’t Miranda’s nice little six-seat Citation M2.”
“You flew that bigger jet just?—”
“Two years ago. I did it once to help you save Miranda and Andi. The miracle was that I didn’t kill us. And that was a Citation 700, like a tenth the size of that thing.”
Holly looked at the hundred feet of the sleek Bombardier Global 6000. “More like half. Besides, you have to give the woman points for style; that’s a very nice jet. I have faith in you, Mike.”
“I don’t!”
“Shape up and keep quiet. Here we go.”
The door’s locking mechanism clunked, then lowered gently outward to make a set of stairs.
Inessa Turgeneva stepped out like the Queen on a visit to Australia, all regal and smiles. A huge smile. One threatening to turn into a burst of tears. Holly tapped her worker-guy vest. She’d only intended to blend in, but no one else was here to greet the unscheduled flight. So they’d be taken for airport workers and that could work. Inessa gave them an infinitesimal nod before schooling her face and continuing down the eight stairs.
Holly didn’t waste time in greetings. “We need you to have high-visibility. Do your planned day in Nalchik. Be back here by midafternoon, at least an hour before sunset. Take the pilot with you.”
“Pilots.” Inessa didn’t even blink, instead waving a hand toward the rear of the plane and raising her voice imperiously. “Fetch my blue sample case from the rear luggage.”
Mike headed around the wing and Holly grabbed his arm before he could get away. “Inside access only, glopyy chelovek.” She’d pay for calling him a stupid man later but turned to Inessa. “You simply can’t get good help these days.”
“I never seen this plane model before.” The tone of Mike’s complaint clearly called her a bitch.
“Not so much with the bad speaking,” she reminded him to keep his mouth shut. Inessa’s smile struggled to stay hidden.
“Pilots. Plural,” he whispered in panicked English.
“Yeah, I caught that,” she answered in lazy local Russian. They definitely hadn’t planned on that.
“Kakogo chyorta!” Mike never swore, but he nailed What the Hell! in Russian just fine. Except he wasn’t looking at her, the plane, or the pilots.
An evil-looking jet-black passenger minivan rolled up to the jet in a big hurry. It looked evil even discounting the huge square grill designed like a prison door. Big enough for six or eight agents. The windows were tinted and the weight must be at least five thousand kilos based on how it shifted on the shocks as it came to an abrupt stop—definitely up-armored.
“We’re screwed,” Mike said in English.
It was Holly’s worst nightmare on four wheels. Their cover was blown, and the FSB was about to grab them all. The driver stayed in the vehicle, but the passenger clambered down. He was a classic Russian bruiser of a guy, big even discounting his immaculate Russian greatcoat.
“Ms. Turgeneva?”
She nodded.
“I am Ivanovich, your bodyguard for the day. Do you have any bags you need?”
She covered Holly and Mike’s gasp of relief by raising her voice. “You two. Wake up. Go and fetch my blue bag. Make sure you get the right one with the dress samples inside.”
The bruiser nodded and moved back to the van and opened one of the side doors. No phalanx of FSB agents poured out to arrest them. Instead, he waved for Inessa to step into the luxury interior.
“I like to be comfortable.” Inessa whispered then turned to the pilots even now descending the stairs. “You boys have been so nice about my whims. We will be here until the afternoon. Why don’t you come and keep me company in the city rather than spending the day at this dreary airport?”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
Mike and Holly climbed aboard the jet.
“Wow, not just style.” The interior came right out of some luxury bizjet magazine. They entered into a galley complete with a marble counter and glass-fronted cabinets loaded with crystal and china. In the main cabin, a group of four executive leather chairs were split into two pairs by a deep-pile carpeted central aisle. Pairs of seats faced each other over shining mahogany tables adorned with lovely fresh flower arrangements despite it being midwinter. An identical four seats came next. The aft third of the cabin boasted a long sofa to one side and a big screen television to the other. The rear lavatory was done in dark stone and bright brass. The back wall, more mahogany, had a small brass handle that opened a tall door to the luggage compartment.
“She doesn’t travel light.” Six large suitcases were lined up in the rack along one side of the plane’s rear luggage compartment. In the vertical wardrobe, a range of coats and dresses hung in suit bags. “She can’t think we can take all this with us.”
“We can’t.” Holly shook her head. “Besides, if she takes her wardrobe with her, that would be a huge alarm that she didn’t die.”
