One of them reached for his holster.
“Stop right there!” Caspian shouted in Turkish, pulling the pistol out of the pocket of his coveralls.
His command struck like a bolt of lightning. Both officers flinched and pivoted sharply toward his voice. The taller of the two officers let out an involuntary yelp—a strange, high-pitched note that sounded odd coming from such a large, broad-shouldered man.
“Hands where I can see them!” Caspian ordered.
He had the drop on them, and they knew it. To complicate even further the tactical position they were in, the officers weren’t more than three feet apart. Caspian could take them out with two quick shots if he had to. Of course, he had no intention of killing them, but they didn’t know that. What gave Caspian the confidence to take the risk was the obvious bulk beneath their uniform shirts. They were wearing body armor. If they forced his hand, he could put rounds into their chest, taking them down without killing them. Still, that would draw a hell of a lot of attention and totally go against what he and Liesel had agreed on. But when they’d decided not to fight back, they hadn’t realized they were wanted for murder either.
“Cuff him,” Caspian said, jerking his chin at the shorter officer. “Now.”
The officer hesitated, glancing at his partner. Now that the shock had worn off, there was a sparkle in the two officers’ eyes Caspian knew he had to extinguish.
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do it,” Caspian warned. “Don’t be heroes. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do before I drop you.”
“You shoot us, you’ll have twenty officers on you in less than a minute,” the shorter officer said.
“You’re right,” conceded Caspian. “And they’ll kill me, but not before I drop at least half a dozen of your friends as they come through the door. How many of your colleagues are fathers? How many of them are mothers? Think about the families they’ll leave behind. Is that really what you want?”
A heartbeat later, the taller officer looked at his colleague and said, “Just do it.”
“Tighter,” Caspian said, once the man’s partner had complied. “Now, cuff your own left wrist. Then get on your knees and look away from me.”
As the second officer knelt, Caspian dropped the pistol deep into the pocket of his coveralls, then secured the man’s wrists behind his back. Caspian disarmed both officers, then marched them across the warehouse and into the office, where Liesel had already subdued the security guard and zip-tied him to a metal desk leg. The guard sat on the floor with his back pressed to the desk, eyes wide and terrified, but he was otherwise unharmed.
“You okay?” Caspian asked Liesel.
“He had these in one of his belt pouches,” she replied, holding several heavy-duty zip ties.
“Perfect.”
One of the officers muttered something under his breath, and Caspian slapped him across the face before he was done.
“Make another sound and you lose a knee,” he said.
The officer sneered and spat something crude in Turkish. Before the insult could finish leaving his lips, Caspian shifted his weight and drove the toe of his shoe into the man’s knee. The blow didn’t break bone, but it was hard enough to rupture a ligament. The officer collapsed with a strangled howl that was muffled by Caspian’s hand over his mouth.
“Duct tape,” he said to Liesel.
She passed him the roll, and he spent the next minute sealing the mouths of the injured officer, his partner, and the security guard. Then, using the remaining zip ties, he secured the two police officers the same way Liesel had done with the guard.
“Did you find anything?” he asked, looking at Liesel.
“Yeah,” she said, holding up three sets of keys. “Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the office and moved quickly through the warehouse, Caspian leading the way. Using the security guard’s badge, Liesel opened the side door the guard had used.
Outside, the rain had stopped, but it was still humid and warm. Looking around to get his bearings, Caspian realized they were on the far edge of the airport. Several vehicles were parked in a gravel lot adjacent to the warehouse. The vehicles were mostly airport utility trucks and ground crew vans, but there were a few private cars too.
Next to him, Liesel pressed the first key fob. Nothing. She tried the second, and a set of hazard lights blinked to life on a dusty gray maintenance van. Seconds later, they were in, with Liesel behind the wheel. The engine started on the first try, and they pulled away from the lot and merged onto the perimeter road that looped around the outer edge of the airport.
In the glove compartment, Caspian found a pocketknife, which he gave to Liesel, and a paper map. He unfolded the map and placed it on his lap. He studied it for a moment, searching for an egress route.
“There are several exits, but I’m sure they are all heavily guarded,” Caspian said, reaching for his phone.
He used Google Maps to zoom in on the exits he had located.
“Yeah,” he continued. “I don’t think we’ll be able to bluff our way through one of the checkpoints. Any second now, one of the officers we neutralized will be discovered.”
