The couple in the next booth turned to look at us.

“I have to stop her,” Adrian said, his eyes wide and wild. “She has the security tokens in her bag.”

“You won’t make it through traffic in a cab,” Julian said. “The expressway is backed up past Damen.”

“I have to try,” Adrian said, pushing past Julian.

He ran out of the lounge, his coat trailing behind him.

Julian looked at me. “Do we go?”

“Yes,” I said, closing my laptop. “We go.”

We walked quickly back to Julian’s car, the rain coming down harder now, turning into a cold sleet.

Thomas was waiting, the engine already running.

“The airport,” Julian said as we got in. “Take the back roads. Avoid the highway if you can.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said, putting the car into gear.

We merged into the wet, dark streets of Chicago, the city lights blurred by the steady downpour.

I looked at my phone again.

A new email alert had just arrived.

It was an automated message from the airline, confirming a seat change on the London flight.

First class, seat 2B.