The guard looked at a clipboard, then pressed a button to raise the barrier.

My driver pulled up to the main entrance of the terminal.

I got out of the car before the driver could open the door.

The rain soaked my hair instantly, but I did not run.

I walked through the automatic sliding doors into the quiet lobby.

The floor was polished white terrazzo.

Two men in dark windbreakers with federal seals on the chests stood near the security desk.

One of them turned and walked toward me.

“Mrs. Hayes,” Agent Miller said, offering a brief nod. “They are in the departure lounge.”

“Has the crew started the engines?” I asked.

“They are taxiing the aircraft to the apron now,” Miller said.

“We waited for your physical verification of the corporate accounts.”

“I have everything right here,” I said, holding up the leather folder.

“Let’s go,” Miller said.

We walked through a carpeted corridor that led to the private tarmac lounge.

The air smelled of expensive coffee and jet fuel.

Through the double glass doors ahead, I saw Preston.