The Hunters by Chris Kuzneski Page A

sparkled. She looked professional but sexy in the blue skirt-suit and starched white shirt of the airline uniform.
    He read her nametag. It said TIFFANY .
    ‘I’m okay. Just trying to get my land legs.’
    ‘So,’ she said, ‘what brings you to Florida?’
    ‘Work,’ he answered. ‘Were you on this flight?’
    She nodded. ‘I worked the first-class cabin. I saw you through the curtain. You were the only one not sleeping.’
    ‘Who can sleep when he has three flight attendants all to himself?’
    ‘Three? There were only two in the rear cabin.’
    Cobb shrugged. ‘Math was never my strong suit.’
    In reality, his math skills were fine. He was simply testing her. He hadn’t noticed her on the flight, and he wanted to make sure that she had actually been on it.
    She laughed and handed him a business card with her cell phone number written on it. ‘Well, I’m stuck in town until tonight. If you’re bored or need some help with your land legs, just give me a call. Maybe I can show you a thing or two.’
    He took the card with a suspicious smile. It could be the layover loneliness that he knew all too well. Or it could be that his new employer had anticipated Cobb’s rekky and had sent Tiffany to meet him at the gate. Although it wasn’t likely, it was possible.
    Mercenaries survived by considering everything.
    ‘Thanks, Tiffany. Maybe I’ll give you a shout.’
    ‘Great,’ she said. ‘I hope you do.’
    Cobb moved away, cursing his luck. It would have been nice to get to know her better. On any other day, at any other time, he would have. But due to his circumstances, he had other things to worry about, including miles of reconnaissance before he circled back to the gate where he was ‘supposed’ to land that afternoon.
    In the next six hours, he had to eyeball all of the escape routes and avenues of attack at that terminal. He wanted to watch the limos as they arrived out front. He wanted to look for men or women who might be watching his gate.
    His phone was programmed with facial recognition software that was linked to a database of domestic and foreign reps who hired American talent. To improve his odds of survival, it would help to know who hired him before he actually met the man.

    * * *

    Cobb was a shade over six feet tall. His hair was short and a lighter shade of brown, almost reddish in color. His handsome face was somewhere between triangular and oval. For some reason, people always told him that he looked like a racecar driver. He didn’t know what that meant, but he was assured it was a compliment.
    Of his features, what stood out the most were his eyes.
    They were gun-gray and piercing.
    They were so distinct that he was forced to wear colored contact lenses on missions for fear of recognition. In Brooklyn, they had been blue. Today, they were hazel. Just to be safe, he wore aviator sunglasses to hide his eyes completely.
    Cobb did a full circuit and saw nothing suspicious. So he planted himself on the periphery of Terminal 3, Concourse E to scope out the disembarking American Airlines passengers. No one there looked familiar or set off any mental alarms. If he was supposed to be seated next to a particular first-class passenger, no one caught his attention.
    Furthermore, he didn’t see Tiffany anywhere. He had been watching for her legs - since her red hair could have been a wig and the uniform could have been discarded - and listening for her voice. But she was nowhere to be found.
    Eventually, he trailed the passengers from ‘his’ plane to the baggage claim area. He stayed against the back wall, his eyes constantly moving as he tried to watch everyone. When the luggage conveyer clanked to life, he shifted his gaze toward the approaching travelers and spotted one person of interest. Not because he recognized her - he didn’t at first - but because she was staring at him.
    ‘I’ll be damned,’ he mumbled to himself.
    Thanks to her disguise - complete with ponytail, headphones,