My inner voice was telling me to run to the front gate. To get out and call in the calvary. That was the safe play, but all I could think about was the chance—no matter how small—that something bad was going to happen to Jennifer in the next few minutes. I might look like a jackass in the city jail in the next hour, but that would be worth it if the alternative of doing nothing meant Jennifer getting harmed. I knew if that happened it would be like putting a gun to my head. And pulling the trigger. I put the vehicle in park next to the hangar doors, seeing nobody. I killed the engine and waited a second. Nothing happened. I exited, holstering the pistol I’d taken from the driver. I stood outside the vehicle, waiting yet again. Nobody came out. I walked to the side entry, dwarfed by the giant sliding hangar doors looming over me like something from a medieval castle. The human-sized door was an old metal thing; it looked like it had been there since the bombers were staged to fly to Moscow.
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