Deadlock

28

Dawn nudged against the darkness, revealing curls of black clouds set low against the unforgiving frontier-industrial landscape of Medford, Oregon. Lock’s motivational talk had quietened Reaper right down, and there was no talking between the Marshals either.

Hollywood might script dramatic courtroom assassination attempts, Lock reflected now that the flight was coming to an end, but both he and everyone on board knew that their real challenge lay in the transfer between airplane and courthouse.

Lock got up from his seat and made his way over to the Marshal in charge.

‘What do you have on the ground for the transfer?’

‘Six Marshals in three separate vehicles.’

This made sense to Lock. One vehicle would have Reaper in it. One would be out in front scoping out likely trouble and clearing a path through any traffic. The third would, if they had any sense, contain a counter-attack team in case anyone was stupid enough to give them any problems.

‘The Marshals evenly split among the vehicles?’

‘No, we got three in the CA vehicle. Transfer vehicle just has a driver. We’ll make up the numbers in it when we land. Anything else you want to second-guess me on?’

Lock’s reply was cut off by the captain on the intercom. His message was brief: no weather report or thank you for flying JPATS, just a curt ‘Buckle up, we’re making our final approach in about a coupla minutes, gentlemen.’

Lock fastened his seat belt as the plane looped round to the east. From his window he could see the postcard-size airfield below. It was surrounded by dense woods. On the ground he could see three black SUVS — no doubt the transfer vehicles — rolling up towards the entrance.

Then, much further back, not even within the confines of the airfield itself, he saw a helicopter. It was small, black and, judging from the hardware mounted either side of the cockpit, very definitely military.

Then he spotted something else. A patrol car, recognisable by the lights and number painted on the roof, parked in tight to the perimeter fence. And crouched behind it two figures holding what even at this height were clearly heavy-duty assault rifles.

Lock unclipped his belt, stood up and waved the Marshal in charge over.

‘What the hell is it now?’ the Marshal said.

‘Did you order a helicopter as a back-up transfer vehicle?’

The Marshal looked at Lock like he was crazy. ‘No. Why?’

‘Because there’s one down there.’

‘Probably some black ops shit. This place gets used for all kinds of stuff.’

That didn’t explain why a helicopter was in plain sight outside the airfield.

‘What about your CA team? Where are they?’

The Marshal was clearly losing patience. ‘In their vehicle, I’d guess.’

What he’d just seen still made no sense to Lock. Again and again in his career, saving the principal’s life had come down to one simple mantra. Look out for two things: the absence of the normal or the presence of the abnormal.

‘Then who the hell are those guys?’ Lock said, pointing out the two figures crouched behind the patrol car, automatic weapons trained on the runway.

The Marshal followed the trajectory of Lock’s finger and froze. ‘I’ve no idea.’

There was a hiss of noise from the intercom, then the captain’s voice: ‘Final approach, folks. Hold on tight.’