Page 78 of Be Courageous

It was hard to convince himself of that. His vision blurred.

She sent him an encouraging smile. “Seeing you has given me the strength to wait until Sauers is arrested. We can do this, Miles.”

He sure hoped so. “Whatever happens, I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

She threw her arms around him. “I love you.”

His heart seemed to fold over on itself. Crushing her to him, he savored the way it felt to hold her. “I love you more, McKenzie.”

Drake leaned into the door. “Son, it’s time.”

As McKenzie pulled back, Miles pressed a final, heartfelt kiss to her lips. “See you soon.”

Releasing her regretfully, he grabbed up his duffel bag and headed for the door to fly back to northern Virginia with his father. A final glance back showed McKenzie looking sad but not utterly bereft.

Surely once The Architect was apprehended, she would be free to live her life with him. Miles didn’t want to guess how long that would take.

CHAPTER7

Steven Sauers snatched his suitcase out of the taxi driver’s hand, waved off the porter heading toward him, and stalked into Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. Both the idiocy of those he protected and the savvy of those he supervised had jeopardized his footing.

Even with a pacemaker, or perhaps because of it, his heart pounded unnaturally fast as he rolled his carry-on straight toward the international travel wing. On this Wednesday morning, the airport was crammed with holiday travelers.How I detest public transportation.

Owning his own jet, Steven normally avoided milling with ordinary people. But flying out of the country on his private jet was what Drake Ellis expected him to do, so here he was.

Oh yes, with a little probing, Steven had discovered that a mere public corruptions section chief in CID was on a mission to expose the Centurion mole. Ellis’s involvement with the McKenzie Jones fiasco down in Myrtle Beach last month had told Steven who his nemesis was. He might have just killed off the man, but who else knew what Ellis knew?

He’d told his wife he was leaving on a business trip. Armed with a passport identifying him as a German American and wearing a convincing disguise, which he had donned in the bathroom of the cinema near his home, Steven was confident he could escape to Iceland. He hadn’t become executive assistant director of the CCRSB by being stupid.

Arriving at the queue for international travel, Steven double-checked his false mustache. He had left his cell phone behind so no one could have followed him here. He was nearly in the clear.

The line kept him shuffling continuously closer to baggage check. Soon it was time to unlace his shoes. As he did so, Steven spared a thought for the life he was leaving behind. One thing was certain: He wouldn’t miss his frigid wife. His dog, his fishing boat, and the power he’d enjoyed as The Architect—those he was loath to leave behind. Not to worry. He had enough money in his Swiss bank account to buy himself a pack of dogs and a fleet of boats, so why waste time being sentimental?

At last, it was his turn. Just one more hurdle and then he’d be home free. Iceland offered asylum to just about anyone willing to pay for it. Steven laid his carry-on atop the conveyor belt, slipped off his shoes, hauled off his belt, and laid the latter next to his suitcase. His favorite watch went inside a plastic bowl.

Following the plump woman in front of him, he shuffled forward toward the metal detector in his socks.

Perhaps he was leaving the country prematurely. None of the Centurion elite could name him, after all, not even Ashton Ravenel, who’d sent him a ridiculous sum via the dark web to avoid going down the drain with Jones. What an idiot that man was thinking The Architect would protect him indefinitely. In fact, Steven had used Ravenel to discover who in CID suspected him. How much could Drake Ellis really have by way of evidence against him?

Even so, it was best to vanish while he could.

Nudging the woman in front of him, Steven impelled her toward the metal detector before the TSA agent even waved her over.

Then he’d be next. In just seconds, he’d be on his way to Reykjavík.

A whispered conversation between the TSA agents ahead of him kept his pulse erratic. The larger of the two men studied the line of passengers while consulting a printout in his hand. Steven’s skin tightened.They won’t recognize me.

Sensing a commotion behind him, he looked back and gasped. It couldn’t be!

But it was. Drake Ellis, in the company of five FBI agents, all in their signature blue windbreakers with the gold lettering were casing the line of passengers, moving ever nearer. Impossible! How could anyone have known he was leaving town? His wife was the only one he’d told.

Oh, that witch!

Averting his gaze, he assumed a placid expression while counting on his disguise to avoid detection.

“Next.”

Steven stepped eagerly toward the metal detector. With a cold sweat beading his brow, he ducked through it. As the machine beeped, the large, dark-skinned TSA agent barred his escape. “Sir, do you have metal in your body?”

---