Chapter 4 - The Terminal Pursuit
"Hey! Stop!" the security officer yelled, stumbling over his colleague as the crowd erupted into screams and confusion.
Vance was fast, weaving through the sea of tourists, luggage carts, and families like an experienced runner. Within seconds, he was fifty yards down the terminal, disappearing behind a cluster of duty-free shops.
Lucas didn't hesitate. He looked down at Maya, who was trembling violently against Shadow.
"Stay right here with the officers, sweetheart," Lucas said gently, kneeling to her eye level. "I’ll be right back."
"Don't let him take me..." she whimpered, her voice breaking. "He’s going to take me back to the facility..."
"Nobody is taking you anywhere," Lucas promised, his voice hard as iron. He looked at the junior security officer who was picking himself up off the tile. "Guard this girl with your life. If anyone else approaches her without a badge, shoot them."
Lucas stood up, his gaze locking onto his dog.
"Shadow. Track."
The Malinois dropped his snout to the floor, sniffing the exact spot where Vance had stood seconds before. A fraction of a second later, Shadow’s head snapped up toward the north corridor. With a low, purposeful trot, the K9 bolted forward, Lucas following right on his heels.
They tore through Terminal C, bypassing bewildered passengers and honking airport carts. Shadow led the way with terrifying precision, ignoring the scents of food, perfume, and thousands of strangers, locked entirely onto the unique chemical scent of Vance’s fear and sweat.
Near the service elevators marked RESTRICTED PERSONNEL ONLY, Shadow stopped, letting out a sharp bark and scratching at a heavy metallic door that stood slightly ajar.
Lucas approached carefully, drawing his compact, off-duty sidearm from his ankle holster and holding it in a low ready position.
He pushed the heavy door open. Beyond lay a long, concrete utility hallway lit by flickering fluorescent tubes, leading down toward the tarmac and maintenance bays.
Footsteps echoed off the concrete walls far ahead.
"Good boy," Lucas whispered, patting Shadow’s side. "Move quiet."
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They descended into the belly of the airport. Lucas’s tactical training kicked into overdrive. He checked the corners, monitored the overhead pipes, and matched his breathing to the quiet rhythm of his dog. Vance wasn't just running; he was heading toward an unmonitored exit where a vehicle or private aircraft could spirit him away forever.
As they rounded a dark corner near Maintenance Bay 4, a iron pipe came swinging out from the shadows directly toward Lucas’s head.
