“Claire Hayes,” I said.

“Mrs. Hayes, this is Special Agent Miller,” a voice said, competing with the static of a bad connection.

“Yes, Agent Miller,” I said, gripping the leather folder tightly.

“We have a situation at the gate,” the agent said, his voice tense.

“What kind of situation?” I asked, watching the rain strike the window.

“He didn’t check in for the commercial flight to Geneva,” Agent Miller said.

“Where is he?”

“He’s at the private aviation terminal on the south side of the field,” Miller said.

“He authorized a flight plan for a private Gulfstream registered to a holding company.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“Is Samantha Mercer with him?” I asked.

“Yes, she just cleared the security checkpoint at the private terminal,” he said.

“We have the federal warrants, Mrs. Hayes, but they are attempting to board immediately.”

“I am ten minutes away,” I said.

“Tell the gate security that I am on my way with the corporate authorization files.”

“We are moving into the terminal now,” Agent Miller said.

“Don’t let him get on that plane,” I said.