Chapter 15 - Grounded on the Tarmac
The deafening whine of the Gulfstream’s twin turbines filled the night air, whipping Patricia Ferguson’s hair across her face as she stood at the base of the rolling airstairs. For a fleeting second, her eyes darted toward the cockpit door above her, measuring the distance to freedom. Then she looked back down the tarmac and saw me walking toward her.
Behind me, four federal tactical vehicles fanned out across the runway, their high-beam headlights blindingly locked onto the private jet. Armed federal agents spilled out, taking up strategic positions around the aircraft’s perimeter.
“Colonel Gardner!” Patricia shouted over the roar of the engines, her voice sharp with desperate fury. “You cannot do this! This aircraft is under private corporate charter. You have no legal authority here!”
I stopped ten feet away from her, my boots planted firmly on the cold concrete. My uniform jacket was unblemished, the gold nameplate gleaming under the floodlights.
“FAA Emergency Order 99-Delta,” I stated clearly, my voice cutting through the jet wash. “All unauthorized international departures are grounded effective immediately. Your airspace is closed, Patricia.”
She slammed her briefcase against her thigh. “You think a piece of paper can stop me? My family owns half the state senate! We built this city!”
“You bought it,” I corrected coldly. “And now, the bill is due.”
Before she could raise her voice again, the cockpit door above her slid open. A federal air marshal stepped out onto the metal platform, holding a pair of heavy-duty zip-ties and flashing a federal badge.
May you like
“Engine shutdown initiated. Step away from the stairs, ma’am.”
Patricia’s shoulders sagged. The color drained completely from her face as the high-pitched whine of the turbines slowly wound down, dying away into a heavy, suffocating silence.
