Page 70 of Shared By the Pilots

And then I imagined women or children being stuffed into the suitcases.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Taylor elbowed me. The truck wasn’t within view, but it must have returned because Broussard and his associate were pushing two carts full of suitcases across the tarmac. Both were so heavy that they had to lean into them, like CrossFit trainers pushing a weighted sled. To make sure we weren’t seen, we ducked down in the cockpit.

“All right, we’re in business,” Taylor said.

After a few minutes, I snuck a peek. We still couldn’t see much of the Excelsior plane; even when twisting around in our cockpit, the plane’s cargo hatch was facing the opposite direction. I could just barely see one of the carts nearby, slowly being unburdened.

Then they finished, and pushed the carts back over to the loading area with the other equipment. I held my breath, waiting to see what they would do. If they went inside the terminal, it meant they might hang around. But if they returned to their truck…

“Bingo,” Taylor said, pumping his fist a little bit. “They’re headin’ back to their truck. That means they’re going to get food.” He set a timer on his phone, then gave me a serious look. “You ready?”

I nodded.

“You sure about that? Because this isn’t just a game anymore. As soon as we open that hatch…”

“It can’t be any more dangerous than having two armed men barge into our hotel room,” I said with a nervous laugh.

Taylor stared at me for three long heartbeats, then opened the cockpit door.

We climbed out and began walking across the tarmac toward the Excelsior plane. It was only a hundred feet away, but it felt like walking across no-man’s-land on a battlefield. Anyone could see us. Taylor stood tall, striding across the tarmac like he belonged there. Which, for the most part, he did. I tried to mimic his confidence.

We reached the plane and went around to the far side. One nice thing about the cargo hatch facing away from the terminal is that it meant we were shielded from anyone seeing us. The only thing behind us was the open runway, where planes were taking off and landing.

“You got the key?” Taylor asked.

I pulled the Excelsior key out of my pocket. “There’s no going back now.”

“We passed the point of no-return the moment we started walking toward this plane.” He took the key from me and unlocked the cargo hatch, which opened vertically. “Here’s hoping all of this wasn’t in vain.”

Inside the hatch was exactly what we expected to see: stacks of passenger suitcases. Taylor began grabbing suitcases and sliding them closer to the edge so I could open them. I took hold of the first one, finding the zipper along the side. It wasn’t even locked. For some reason, that made me chuckle. They were so confident that they didn’t even bother locking the bags.

“What’re you waiting for?” Taylor asked while climbing into the cargo hold to grab another suitcase.

I took a deep breath, then pulled the zipper around the exterior of the bag. When I flung open the top, what I saw was completely expected.

Eight bottles of specialty tequila, carefully packed in Styrofoam peanuts.

“Fuuuck,” I said.

Taylor opened another nearby bag. Eight more bottles of tequila. He let the flap close shut. “Well, at least we checked.”

I moved the suitcase aside and pulled another one closer. “I want to look inside a few more.”

But the next suitcase was the same. So was the one after that. Taylor opened two other bags, then shoved them away in resignation.

“We should probably head back,” he said.

“In a bit.” I climbed into the hold, feeling my heart begin to race. I was panicking. I had done so much, spent so much time and emotional energy worrying about this. It couldn’t have been for nothing. It couldn’t have!

“Veronica…”

“These bags aren’t cold.” I began feeling each suitcase with my palm. “Why aren’t they cold?”

Taylor frowned, but climbed into the hatch with me and started patting down suitcases himself. When he got to the second stack, he suddenly exclaimed, “Found one! This one’s as cold as ice!”

He slid it over to me. I could feel the cold air emanating from it before I even touched the zipper. A ray of excitement shone inside of me, one last glimmer of hope that all of this wasn’t for naught. I shared a look with Taylor, then opened the bag.

The interior was layered with packing material. The top layer was a thin plastic sheet. I removed that to reveal a rectangular block of dry ice, about two inches thick, perfectly cut to fit the suitcase. Taylor pulled a rag out of his pocket and used that to grab the dry ice, carefully sliding it away and revealing the contents underneath.

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