Newton’s Fire

II

Croke fell silent in the front of the van as they neared City Airport. He was all too aware how critical the next few minutes were. Without the direct protection of the NCT, their little convoy was now far more vulnerable to misadventure, even betrayal. But Morgenstern had done him proud. Two airport security officers were waiting in a marked car as promised. They led them down a supply road to a security fence topped by triple strands of barbed wire, where another guard opened the gate for them as they approached, then closed it again behind them.

They drove across tarmac to the private jet concourse. The security car flashed its lights at a partially open hangar door. Manfredo flashed acknowledgement and drove inside. Croke’s jet was waiting there, his pilot Craig Bray by the open cargo bay, checking pallets of supplies. They pulled up beside him, jumped down. ‘All good?’ asked Croke.

‘Better than good,’ nodded Bray. ‘They signed off our paperwork blind. And they’ve given us priority clearance. They must think you’re God Himself.’

Croke laughed. ‘Closer than you’d think.’

Bray kicked one of the pallets. ‘We’re to load these, yeah? They were sent for my attention by some guy called Jakob Kohen. Only there’s enough acid in here to bathe all the brides you could ever ask for.’

‘Give me a moment,’ said Croke. He went around the back of the van, found Kohen chatting with Luke and Rachel. ‘What the fuck?’ he asked Walters.

‘He threatened to scupper the mission.’

Croke scowled. The little prick was getting on his nerves. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Put his friends on board. And stay with them. I don’t want them trying anything.’

‘You got it, boss.’

Croke beckoned to Kohen. ‘Your supplies are here,’ he said. ‘Do you want to double-check them or shall we just load?’

‘I want to double-check them.’

‘Fine,’ said Croke. ‘But first we need to talk to your uncle.’