Chapter 3 - THE CONFESSION IN THE SHADOW OF A 737"Easy, boy... good dog..." Eli whimpered, backing into the dark underbelly of the baggage loader, curling into a ball with his arms wrapped tightly around the ticking bag.
Apollo crept forward slowly, his powerful chest heaving, his ears pinned flat. He didn't snarl. Instead, the dog pressed his cold, wet nose directly against the bottom seam of Eli's school bag, whimpering softly, his tail giving a single, pathetic wag before freezing.
"He's under the loader! I see him!" shouted a voice from twenty yards away.
Heavy boots crunched on gravel. Flashlight beams cut through the gloom, painting white rings across the concrete. Two airport police officers and the K-9 handler converged on the cart, weapons raised.
"Kid, drop the bag. Drop it right now and put your hands behind your head!" the handler yelled, his face slick with sweat, his eyes darting nervously from Eli to the dog.
"I... I can't," Eli sobbed, tears cutting clean tracks through the soot and sweat on his cheeks. "My dad said... my dad said don't let go."
"Your dad is a monster, kid," a deep, gravelly voice echoed from the shadows beside the wing of a parked Boeing 737.
Out stepped Victor Kane. He wasn't running. He walked with the slow, terrifying elegance of a predator taking an evening stroll, even as blood trickled from a shallow graze on his temple. In his right hand, he held a silenced pistol, his finger resting casually along the trigger guard.
The two officers snapped their weapons toward Victor. "Kane! Drop your weapon! Drop it or we open fire!"
Victor stopped ten feet away. He looked at Eli, then down at Apollo, who was still whining softly, pressing his body protectively against the boy's knees as if trying to shield him from what was coming.
"You're a smart dog," Victor murmured, his voice cold. Then he looked at the officers. "You boys really think that's a bomb in the bag?"
The handler frowned, tightening his grip on his pistol. "What the hell else would make a K-9 unit react like that? It's ticking, you psychopath!"
Victor let out a dry, humorless chuckle. He reached into his coat pocket with his free hand, pulled out a small silver remote, and pressed a single button.
May you like
The ticking stopped instantly.
The sudden quiet was more terrifying than the noise had been.
