Chapter 11 - The Descent Upon Teterboro and the Glisten of Private Jets
The rotor blades of Sebastian’s private twin-engine helicopter cut through the heavy, bruised pre-dawn clouds with a rhythmic, deafening thunder.
Below them, the sprawling asphalt of Teterboro Airport stretched out like a dark chessboard, dotted with the glowing amber and blue perimeter lights of exclusive private hangars.
Valerie sat in the leather captain’s chair beside Sebastian, her eyes fixed on a sleek, Gulfstream G650 private jet idling on the remote tarmac near Runway Four, its turbines whining at high idle.
That was Mara Feldman’s escape vehicle—a twenty-million-dollar bird of steel fueled by millions in syndicate bribes and offshore corporate embezzlement.
Sebastian didn't speak, his gaze locked onto the Gulfstream with the chilling, patient focus of a wolf tracking a wounded deer across an open snowfield.
He sat casually in his custom-tailored suit, despite having just walked out of a federal holding facility less than an hour prior, radiating an aura of untouchable supremacy.
Nick Vance sat across from them in the cabin, methodically checking the magazine of his sidearm and sliding it back into its leather holster with a sharp, metallic click.
"Her flight clearance was revoked by the FAA five minutes ago," Nick said, tapping the screen of his encrypted satellite phone.
"If she tries to taxi down Runway Four without tower authorization, the federal interceptors parked on the south tarmac will disable her landing gear."
"Mara isn't stupid enough to try to take off without clearance," Sebastian replied, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that barely carried over the roar of the helicopter engine.
"She knows the feds are onto her. That jet isn't for flying—it's for hostage leverage or a high-seas ransom negotiation with whoever she sold my shipping manifests to."
Valerie turned her head to look at him, her green eyes narrowing with sudden, sharp intuition. "You think she’s waiting for someone on that tarmac?"
"I know she is," Sebastian confirmed coldly. "And we are going to crash her private little welcoming party."
The helicopter banked sharply to the left, descending rapidly toward the remote hangar complex while keeping below the radar horizon of the main control tower.
With a gentle, practiced thud, the landing gear touched down on the damp concrete apron behind Hangar 12, kicking up a spray of mist from the puddles on the ground.
Sebastian stood up immediately, pulling his coat tight around his shoulders before offering a gloved hand down to help Valerie out of the cabin.
"Stay behind me, Valerie. This isn't a boardroom negotiation anymore," Sebastian warned, his tone leaving zero room for argument or disobedience.
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"I didn't come this far to watch from the sidelines, Sebastian," she retorted firmly, stepping down onto the tarmac with her chin held high and the cold rain misting her skin.
Sebastian let out a short, heavy sigh of reluctant admiration, his hand sliding protectively around her lower back as they strode across the tarmac toward Runway Four.
