Page 34 of Denied Access

Maybe less.

When he’d first decided to call Greta from the airport, the idea had seemed genius. While the safety measures were certainly not impenetrable, the assortment of metal detectors, roving policemen, and other security features made those with less-than-honorable intentions think twice about bringing a weapon into the terminal. By the same token, the airport’s restrictive airspace and multiple ground checkpoints discouraged aerial or vehicular surveillance, and the plethora of electromagnetic energy emitted by radios, navigational aids, and the like also had the potential to interfere with electronic snooping. Travel by commercial air allowed Rapp to mix with the general populace, while putting him out of reach of hired muscle.

But if he was facing sophisticated adversaries, the airport rendered Rapp weaponless and isolated like a cornered rat. Whether his decision stemmed from overconfidence or was just an honest mistake, the results were the same. Rapp had severely misjudged his adversaries. Anyone thinking of conducting a rendition in a place crowded with witnesses was clearly off their rocker.

Or they had permission.

Turning from the window, Rapp peered past the deli in both directions. Not good. Clusters of uniformed Spanish National Police were positioned in pairs on either side of the T-intersection formed by the concourse and his terminal. The police officers didn’t appear to be on edge, but they were openly scanning the faces of travelers exiting the terminal for the concourse and airport proper.

Rapp slid back into his blind spot.

On the far side of the terminal, the Citation was almost to the gate.Within a minute or two, the aircraft would dock and whatever was waiting inside its sleek cabin would come boiling through the airbridge. To his right, the woman in the formfitting dress was getting to her feet. To his left, the faux businessman seated at the deli no longer seemed interested in his paper. As if feeling Rapp’s gaze, the heavy-shouldered man locked eyes with him. The decision was simple: Either wait for the rendition team or fight.

He wasn’t much for waiting.

He left his alcove and tracked right, away from the concourse and toward gate 6, located on his side of the terminal. He kept his pace even and unrushed while still trying to cover as much distance as possible with each stride. He checked his reflection in the window to his right.

The pretend businessman was standing.

The man had undoubtedly expected Rapp to make a break for the concourse and airport proper, but since Rapp was headed toward a dead end, he probably wasn’t worried. On the opposite side of the terminal, the Citation had finished taxiing and the airbridge was stretching toward the aircraft’s fuselage.

It was happening.

The woman in the hip-hugging dress moved to intercept him. She maintained the eye-catching sway even as her pace increased to match his. With a smoothness that only came with practice, she planted herself in Rapp’s path.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, “I was wondering if—”

Her English was excellent, her smile engaging, and her magnetism palpable.

Rapp didn’t pay attention to any of those things. Nor was he focused on the slender fingers reaching for his chest or the hint of cleavage revealed by the scoop-neck dress.

He was watching her other hand.

The one hidden by her purse.

Her fingers brushed his shirt, and Rapp felt a surge of warmth.There was something about being touched by a beautiful woman, even if the contact was fleeting.

She wasn’t just smooth.

Her tradecraft was exceptional.

The purse dropped away the moment the palm of her right hand pressed flat against his pectoral muscles. The Taser hidden beneath her handbag hissed as electricity arced between its two contacts.

The hungry, artificial lighting reached for his torso.

Stepping into the woman, Rapp seized her left wrist with both hands while bending his right arm and smashing his elbow into her chest. The pointy bone struck the woman’s solar plexus and the breath surged from her lungs in something that sounded midway between gasp and cough.

She doubled over.

Rapp stripped the device from her and shoved the still-arcing probes into her side. The woman went rigid and then collapsed. He considered snapping her wrist as he lowered her to the ground, but Hurley’s voice echoed in his head.

We don’t kill women or children.

Someday, he might have to break the first part of the rule.

Not today.

Releasing the woman, Rapp scooped up her purse. Then he sprinted to gate 6, smashed the crash bar attached to the emergency exit, and burst onto the steps leading to the tarmac.