So why had she volunteered to do this?
On an intellectual level, she knew the answer. The Herculean Society had given her the one thing she had not even realized was missing from her life. A purpose. She was a part of something important, no longer living just for herself. And now the Society needed something from her. People that she cared about, even though she had never met them, were in danger, and she was in the best position to help them. The calculation had been simple enough. A very real, life-and-death situation outweighed irrational panic every time.
That much was enough to get her through the front door. She had hoped it would get easier after that.
It hadn’t.
She could feel the contemptuous stares of strangers. Dozens of them. Hundreds. She knew there were actually only a handful of people coming and going from the private charter aircraft hangar situated north of the runway, and that none had given her more than a passing glance, but it did not ease her anxiety.
She took out her smartphone and opened her air traffic control app. The act of checking the handheld computing device and connecting with the digital universe helped steady her nerves a little. The app confirmed that the Cerberus plane was still running on time and it would arrive in less than thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes. Could she survive that long?
She felt the void of the sky overhead, overwhelming in its immensity.
Inside. I need to get inside.
That was a bad idea though. She could not enter the secure area of the hangar, where the plane would eventually be parked, and even if she could, that was not her intent. Pierce had been very clear about not getting close to the jet or its occupants. She was to observe from a safe distance. Nothing more.
What exactly constituted a safe distance, she had no idea.
She spent the next few minutes searching for a sheltered place with a direct line of sight to the hangar, and found it in a wooded area more than two hundred yards away. The distance would be a problem, but she was able to overcome that limitation by using her phone’s camera at maximum zoom. The dense trees made her feel a little less exposed, and for the first time since leaving her residence, she caught her breath.
Several planes came and went, mostly larger commercial birds from international carriers, but one aircraft caught her attention, not because it was a helicopter — another handy app revealed it to be a Sikorsky S-61L — but because the large rotor-wing passenger aircraft settled down right next to the hangar she was keeping an eye on. The whirling blades gradually wound down to a stop, but no one emerged from the aircraft.
Curious, Dourado checked the registration numbers painted on the helicopter’s tail. She traced its ownership to a company that provided logistical support to remote logging and mining operations throughout the Amazon Basin.
She knew that was no coincidence. They were waiting for the passengers aboard the incoming Learjet. The Cerberus people were going to transfer to the helicopter, and then head to some unknown destination. Because helicopters were not required to file flight plans, there would be no way to track them once they left, short of accessing a Brazilian military radar tracking station.
She stared at her phone in impotent frustration, until it occurred to her that there was a way to track them. The realization of what that would involve brought on another wave of panic.
One simple hack, she told herself. If I can do that, the rest will be easy.
The hack was simple. She breezed through firewalls and tore through the encryption like it was digital tissue paper. After that, it was just a matter of data entry. It took all of two minutes.
She checked the air traffic control app again. The Cerberus jet was on final approach. It would be on the ground in a matter of minutes.
“I can do this.”
She broke from cover and walked briskly toward the hangar, staring at the ground so she would not have to look at the sky. It didn’t help. She could feel it, the open emptiness like a yawning abyss trying to devour her.
She reached the door, entered the security code she had illicitly obtained and moved inside.
Being indoors again, even in this unfamiliar environment, eased the agoraphobic panic somewhat, but it did not alleviate the anxiety she felt about the risk she was now taking. Pierce’s words burned in her ears. Don’t approach. Don’t do anything dangerous.
This isn’t dangerous, she told herself. No one knows who I am.
Dourado had covered her bases. If someone stopped her, questioned her, she had a solid cover story. She was a flight safety inspector, doing a random spot check to ensure that the helicopter was in compliance with regulations. Since she had the door access code, anyone inside would reason that she must be who she said she was, but in the unlikely event that someone decided to challenge the ruse, a call to the National Civil Aviation Agency would confirm her story.
As she moved through the reception area, she avoided making eye contact with the room’s only occupant, a woman who was in the middle of a telephone conversation. Dourado glanced down, nervously checking to make sure that her bright blue hair was tucked up under her cap. She had donned the hat and removed most of her facial piercings before leaving her residence. It was not much of a disguise, but subterfuge had never been her original intention. Hopefully, the helicopter’s crew would be in such a hurry to get rid of her that they would not look too closely.
After the relative security of the hangar building, the rear door that let out onto the tarmac almost stopped her cold. “I can do this.”
Her heart pounded against her chest. She fixed her gaze on the helicopter, and willed her feet to start moving. As she headed toward the helicopter, she checked the flight status of the Cerberus jet. The information had not been updated, but if the clock was to be trusted, the plane should already have landed. She glanced over at the runway just in time to see an aging A320 with TAM Airlines markings touch down.
She looked back to the helicopter and realized someone was looking down from the elevated cockpit bubble. The scrutiny felt like a physical attack. She forced herself to look away, but the damage was already done. Her pulse was racing, her breathing so rapid that she was on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Can I help you?”
The voice startled her. She looked up saw another man standing near the nose of the aircraft. He wore olive drab flight coveralls, the kind that could be purchased from almost any military surplus retailer.
She worked her mouth, trying to form the short sentence she had rehearsed, but all that came out was a feeble stutter. “Safe…safe…safety inspect…in…spec…”
The man stared back patiently, and then nodded in understanding. He reached into a pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper which he extended to her. “Everything is in order.”
Not paper, she now realized. Money.
A hundred-real banknote. The man was offering her a bribe.
This was something she had not anticipated. Strangely, this unexpected development had the equally unexpected side effect of shocking her out of her panic. Her heart grew calm, her breathing returned to normal and perhaps most importantly, her ability to think rationally switched back on.
She shook her head, and in a calm clear voice, she said, “I need to get a serial number from your fire extinguisher. It will only take a minute.”
The man frowned, as if trying to decide whether to offer a larger bribe or simply comply with her request. After a moment, he turned and slid back the side hatch. “Be my guest.”