Chapter 9 - The Cornered Rat.
Richard threw his encrypted burner phone out the window of his speeding Mercedes, his hands shaking violently against the leather steering wheel.
He was driving frantically down the New Jersey Turnpike, weaving recklessly through heavy traffic in a desperate bid to reach Teterboro Airport.
His tailored suit was soaked in cold sweat, his perfectly styled blonde hair was a chaotic mess, and his eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated panic.
Thomas Vance was right; Richard had paid an exorbitant cash bribe to secure a private, untraceable charter flight to a non-extradition country in South America.
But he could not comprehend how the retired Marine had managed to intercept the supposedly secure flight details so quickly.
Richard pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboard, praying that he could simply outrun the massive federal net closing in tightly around him.
He pulled into the private aviation terminal of the airport, abandoning his expensive car right at the curb with the engine still running.
He grabbed his heavy leather duffel bag, which was stuffed with the last two million dollars of physical cash he had kept hidden in a wall safe.
Richard ran across the tarmac, the heavy rain soaking through his suit as he desperately searched for the specific Gulfstream jet waiting for him.
He finally spotted the sleek white aircraft idling near the far end of the runway, its boarding stairs already lowered and waiting for his arrival.
A massive surge of hopeful adrenaline pushed him forward, convincing his arrogant mind that his immense wealth was finally going to save him.
He sprinted up the metal stairs, completely out of breath, throwing his heavy bag into the luxurious cabin before stepping inside himself.
Close the door and take off right now! Richard screamed at the pilot, not even bothering to wipe the rain from his terrified face.
But the pilot did not answer, and the luxurious leather seats of the private jet were not entirely empty as he had expected.
Sitting perfectly relaxed in the plush captain's chair, holding a suppressed tactical pistol casually in his lap, was Thomas Vance.
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And sitting right across from him, wearing a dark trench coat and looking completely unfazed by Richard's sudden arrival, was Clara.
Richard froze perfectly still in the narrow aisle of the plane, all the remaining blood draining instantly from his face as true terror finally consumed him.
