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“Should we get help?” I asked.
“Help?” Kira just stared at me. “You still don’t get it, do you? There’s only one person in the world that I can trust right now. And that’s you.”
She led the way across a grass border onto a large section of asphalt. I looked past the end of the other terminal and saw the outlines of three sleek executive jets.
“Don’t tell me you have a plane,” I said.
She stared straight ahead. “Not yet.”
It was another few hundred yards from the corner of the far terminal to the edge of the runway. We hung tight against the terminal building as airport workers buzzed back and forth on their little carts with their warning lights blinking.
The jet closest to us had its boarding stairs down, and the interior lights were on.
The pilot was walking underneath doing his preflight check. As he moved toward the tail section, a white stretch limo approached from the rear. The pilot straightened his jacket and walked toward the car.
“Now!” whispered Kira.
It was a thirty-yard dash. We ducked underneath the fuselage and hung there in the shadows for a few seconds. Twenty yards behind the tail, the limo doors were opening. The pilot shook hands with a man in an expensive suit. Two stylish young women slid out of the back seat.
Kira yanked the chocks away from the jet’s front wheel. We came out on the other side of the fuselage and raced up the six steps to the main door. We stepped inside and looked left and right. Empty. The cabin looked like a luxury lounge. There were six huge passenger seats and a sofa in the passenger section. Lots of leather and expensive wood trim. No economy class here.
Kira ducked into the cockpit and slipped into the left-hand seat. It took me a second to realize what was happening.
“We’re stealing ajet??” I asked.
“Fastest way out of town,” Kira replied. She was already flipping switches. I heard a loud hum and saw the stairway being pulled up into the fuselage.
“Lock it!” Kira called out.
I cranked the locking lever hard in the direction of the big red arrow. There was a satisfyingthunk. Two seconds later, we started rolling forward.
I peeked out one of the cabin windows to where the pilot and limo passengers were sorting baggage on the tarmac. They looked up. The pilot blinked in disbelief and then started chasing after us, waving his arms like crazy. Kira made a hard turn to the left. I fell against one of the leather seats.
“Get up here and strap in!” she shouted.
I scrambled forward and dropped into the copilot seat. I pulled the harness over my shoulders and fastened it. Kira was already turning onto the runway. I could see the long stretch of asphalt reaching into the distance. Back near the terminal, red lights started flashing. Workers in coveralls were climbing into emergency trucks. Guys in white shirts ran out of the terminal with walkie-talkies. I saw a couple of security guards with their guns out.
“No way we’re getting away with this,” I muttered.
Kira looked over at me. “Hold my beer,” she said.
She had her hands on two large white handles on the divider between us. She pushed the handles forward. There was a strong vibration and a roar from the back of the jet. We started rolling down the runway. In a few seconds, we were at highway speed. The ground started to blur.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Kira muttered, low and intense, as we ate up the runway. At that moment, the nose lifted and suddenly the windshield filled with sky. I looked back to my right and saw a cluster of red lights circling the end of the runway like angry fireflies. I let out a huge breath and looked for something to hold onto. This wasnuts!
“Aren’t we supposed to talk to the tower or something?” I asked.
“Don’t be such a goody-goody,” said Kira.
She put the jet into a steep climb. I felt myself being pressed back against the seat. I looked down at Cook County disappearing below. My heart rate started to settle, but my brain was still buzzing. Kira was cool and calm, like she was taking a drive to the mall.
“You should have told me you knew how to fly,” I said.
Kira tapped a few buttons on the console. We started to level out.
“Don’t look surprised,” she said. “So do you.”
She nodded toward the screen in front of my seat. “Set a course 330 degrees northwest,” she said.
