isn’t on it? He is going to be pissed. They were supposed to meet and go to a ball game tomorrow to see the stadium before Wednesday, the day Drake is to be killed. Parkman will be furious when he finds out who’s behind this.
I’m going to be furious when I find out who has fucked up my day.
The air brakes activated and the plane slowed, taxiing off the landing strip.
The three marshals wouldn’t take their eyes off of her. Whoever was behind this had informed these men who she was and that she was to be watched carefully. Do not underestimate her. Sarah is dangerous.
Good advice.
Sarah undid her belt. The plane stopped, still quite far from the terminal. In the distance a line of three black SUVs headed their way.
FBI?
The couple sitting ahead of her sneaked peeks backwards. She smiled at the woman, who jumped away as if bitten.
“Is all this really necessary?” Sarah asked.
Dave nodded.
“Who has the kind of power to change the flight plan of a major commercial airliner?” Sarah asked. “The U.S. government maybe? The Sophia Project guys? Am I getting closer?”
Dave didn’t respond this time. He bent down and looked out Sarah’s window at the approaching SUVs.
“They’re coming now,” he said to the two men on either side of him.
Obviously she wasn’t going to get anything out of Dave before whoever was coming got there. She crossed her arms, laid back and closed her eyes. This didn’t bother her. She wouldn’t allow it to. Whoever was behind it, whatever they wanted, she would fix it and move on. That was the way of things for her. It had always been that way and always will be.
“Where are your bags?” Dave asked.
“I don’t have any bags,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “Only this carryon by my feet. I travel light.”
The door to the plane opened. She sat eight rows back from where she had boarded. Boots smacked down hard as several people entered the aircraft in unison. She opened her eyes and looked up, hoping to recognize someone who could answer her questions.
A line of military-type recruits in green camouflage stomped down the aisle toward Dave and his men, who moved away to give the newcomers more room. Within seconds, Sarah’s seat was surrounded by eight beefy men.
The tallest one stepped in close and asked in a deep John Wayne voice, “Are you Sarah Roberts?”
What was the right answer?
“Who’s asking?”
“Stand up,” he ordered. “Now.”
“Fuck you. First, tell me what this is all about. I bought a ticket to fly to Toronto. I’m an American citizen. I cannot be held without being charged and since I’ve done nothing wrong, tell me what this is all about.”
“Sarah Roberts, you are under arrest for the murder of Joseph Singer. Stand up, or my men will drag you out. This will either be hard or easy, your choice, but we prefer hard.”
It felt like someone smacked her in the face. She had never heard the name Joseph Singer before. There had to be a mistake. Where did this kind of shit come from? Could life ever be normal or does it always have to be fucked? And how could they re-route a plane just to arrest one person? Wouldn’t they get the Canadian authorities to pick her up as she exited the plane in Toronto, and then extradite her through the normal legal process?
Someone set this up . Someone is setting me up.
All eyes in the immediate area were on her. She was sure that the passengers surrounding her seat weren’t thinking about their delay to Toronto anymore. They wanted to see some action.
Fucking rubberneckers.
“Hard or easy, huh?” she asked. “Those are my options?”
“Wait!” a man yelled from down the aisle near the front of the plane. Heads turned to see the new arrival. A man in a long black overcoat and a black fedora made his way toward her.
Rod Howley. Motherfucker.
“Ahh,” Sarah
I’m going to be furious when I find out who has fucked up my day.
The air brakes activated and the plane slowed, taxiing off the landing strip.
The three marshals wouldn’t take their eyes off of her. Whoever was behind this had informed these men who she was and that she was to be watched carefully. Do not underestimate her. Sarah is dangerous.
Good advice.
Sarah undid her belt. The plane stopped, still quite far from the terminal. In the distance a line of three black SUVs headed their way.
FBI?
The couple sitting ahead of her sneaked peeks backwards. She smiled at the woman, who jumped away as if bitten.
“Is all this really necessary?” Sarah asked.
Dave nodded.
“Who has the kind of power to change the flight plan of a major commercial airliner?” Sarah asked. “The U.S. government maybe? The Sophia Project guys? Am I getting closer?”
Dave didn’t respond this time. He bent down and looked out Sarah’s window at the approaching SUVs.
“They’re coming now,” he said to the two men on either side of him.
Obviously she wasn’t going to get anything out of Dave before whoever was coming got there. She crossed her arms, laid back and closed her eyes. This didn’t bother her. She wouldn’t allow it to. Whoever was behind it, whatever they wanted, she would fix it and move on. That was the way of things for her. It had always been that way and always will be.
“Where are your bags?” Dave asked.
“I don’t have any bags,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “Only this carryon by my feet. I travel light.”
The door to the plane opened. She sat eight rows back from where she had boarded. Boots smacked down hard as several people entered the aircraft in unison. She opened her eyes and looked up, hoping to recognize someone who could answer her questions.
A line of military-type recruits in green camouflage stomped down the aisle toward Dave and his men, who moved away to give the newcomers more room. Within seconds, Sarah’s seat was surrounded by eight beefy men.
The tallest one stepped in close and asked in a deep John Wayne voice, “Are you Sarah Roberts?”
What was the right answer?
“Who’s asking?”
“Stand up,” he ordered. “Now.”
“Fuck you. First, tell me what this is all about. I bought a ticket to fly to Toronto. I’m an American citizen. I cannot be held without being charged and since I’ve done nothing wrong, tell me what this is all about.”
“Sarah Roberts, you are under arrest for the murder of Joseph Singer. Stand up, or my men will drag you out. This will either be hard or easy, your choice, but we prefer hard.”
It felt like someone smacked her in the face. She had never heard the name Joseph Singer before. There had to be a mistake. Where did this kind of shit come from? Could life ever be normal or does it always have to be fucked? And how could they re-route a plane just to arrest one person? Wouldn’t they get the Canadian authorities to pick her up as she exited the plane in Toronto, and then extradite her through the normal legal process?
Someone set this up . Someone is setting me up.
All eyes in the immediate area were on her. She was sure that the passengers surrounding her seat weren’t thinking about their delay to Toronto anymore. They wanted to see some action.
Fucking rubberneckers.
“Hard or easy, huh?” she asked. “Those are my options?”
“Wait!” a man yelled from down the aisle near the front of the plane. Heads turned to see the new arrival. A man in a long black overcoat and a black fedora made his way toward her.
Rod Howley. Motherfucker.
“Ahh,” Sarah
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