There was a brief hesitation, then a masculine voice crackled through the speakers. “Captain. We’re waiting at the gate, but the plane isn’t here.”

“Not there!” I shouted, wincing as I yanked myself to the edge of the seat. “They should be boarding by now.”

“It never came to the tunnel, sir,” Ruben continued. “Everyone is waiting at the terminal. They say it’s a minor repair and should only take an hour. This isn’t your doing?”

I glanced from the speaker to Edden. I could almost see the ideas circulating behind his speculating expression. “No,” he finally said. “Stay put.” He broke the connection and the faint hiss disappeared.

“What is going on?” I shouted into his ear, and he gave me a black look.

“Get your butt back in your seat, Morgan,” he said. “It’s probably your friend’s daylight restrictions. The airline won’t make everyone wait on the tarmac when the terminal is empty.”

I glanced at Nick, whose fingers were nervously tapping out the rhythm of an unheard beat. Still uneasy, I settled back. The landing beacon from the airport ran an arc across the underside of the clouds. We were nearly there.

Edden punched in a number from memory, a smile easing over his face as he took the phone off the speaker. “Hello, Chris?” he said, as I faintly heard a woman’s voice answer. “Got a question for ya. Seems there’s a Southwest flight stuck on the tarmac. Eleven forty-five to L.A.? What’s up with it?” He hesitated, listening, and I found myself chewing on a hangnail. “Thanks, Chris.” He chuckled. “How about the thickest steak in the city?” Again he chuckled, and I swear, his ears reddened.

Jenks snickered at something I couldn’t hear. I glanced at Nick, but he was ignoring me.

“Chrissy,” Edden drawled. “My wife might have a problem with that.” Jenks laughed with Edden, and I tugged a curl, nervous. “Talk to you later,” he said, and clicked the phone off.

“Well?” I asked from the edge of my seat.

The remnants of Edden’s smile refused to leave him. “The plane is grounded. Seems the I.S. had a tip there’s a bag of Brimstone on it.”

“Turn it all,” I swore. The bus was the decoy, not the airport. What was Trent doing?

Edden’s eyes glinted. “The I.S. is fifteen minutes away. We could pull it right out from under them.”

On my shoulder, Jenks started to swear.

“We aren’t here for Brimstone,” I protested, as everything started falling apart. “We’re here for biodrugs!” Fuming, I went silent as a loud car approached us, heading back into the city.

“That one’s above city code,” Edden said. “Clayton, see if you can get a number off it.”

Mind whirling, I waited for it to pass before I tried to speak again. The engine was racing as if the driver was doing thirty over the speed limit, but the car was hardly moving. The gears whined as it tried to shift in an all-too-familiar sound. Francis, I thought, my breath catching.