Chapter 18
The private airstrip in New Jersey was a desolate strip of cracked tarmac hidden behind a dense line of pine trees. The rain had started again, drumming heavily against the roof of the rusted pickup truck Marcus had stolen to get them out of the city.
Vivienne sat in the passenger seat, shivering violently beneath the damp gray hoodie. Through the rain-streaked windshield, she could see a battered, unmarked twin-engine cargo plane idling on the tarmac. Two men in dark raincoats were loading heavy wooden crates into the back.
"Are you sure about this?" Vivienne asked, her voice barely audible over the roaring engine of the plane. "It looks like it’s going to fall apart in mid-air."
"Smugglers don't invest in aesthetics, Ms. Cross," Marcus said, shifting the truck into gear. "They invest in radar evasion. This flight is heading to a private airfield in France. From there, we take a train across the border into Switzerland. No passport control. Just cash."
Marcus drove the truck onto the tarmac, pulling up right beside the cargo plane. He killed the engine and grabbed the velvet pouch of diamonds. "Stay close to me, keep your head down, and don't say a word. I do the talking."
Vivienne nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs. She stepped out of the truck, the cold rain instantly soaking through the hoodie. She kept her head down, hugging herself tightly as they walked toward the men in the raincoats.
The lead smuggler, a scarred man with a thick Russian accent, stepped forward. He looked Marcus up and down, then glanced suspiciously at Vivienne’s hidden face.
"You are late," the Russian grunted over the noise of the propellers. "And you said there was only one passenger."
"Plans changed," Marcus shouted back, holding up the velvet pouch. "I have enough capital to cover the extra weight."
Marcus opened the pouch and pulled out the largest of the three diamonds. He tossed it to the Russian. The smuggler caught it effortlessly, pulling a small jeweler's loupe from his pocket. He held the diamond up to the dim light of the plane’s exterior bulbs, examining the cut and clarity.
A greedy smile spread across the Russian's face. "Flawless. This buys you two seats in the back with the crates. But no heat, and no questions about the cargo."
"Deal," Marcus said, grabbing Vivienne’s arm and pulling her toward the loading ramp.
May you like
They climbed into the dark, freezing belly of the cargo plane. It smelled of aviation fuel and wet canvas. Marcus guided Vivienne to a small, uncomfortable jump seat strapped to the fuselage wall. She sat down, pulling her knees to her chest, trembling as the heavy cargo doors slammed shut, plunging them into darkness.
The plane’s engines roared to life, vibrating violently through the metal floor. As the aircraft accelerated down the bumpy tarmac and lifted into the stormy sky, Vivienne closed her eyes. She was leaving her entire world behind. The empire was gone, stolen back by a ghost. But as the plane climbed higher into the clouds, a tiny, unfamiliar spark of resilience ignited in her chest. She was going to survive. And when she reached Zurich, she would find a way to rebuild.
