No Escape by Julie Moffett

 

Chapter Four

 

Lexi Carmichael

 

I froze, shocked by the incongruity of Santa Claus with an automatic weapon.

For a split second, the world narrowed to just the two of us. A loud roaring noise filled my ears, and although my brain screamed at me to run, my eyes were locked on his, my feet rooted to the floor.

“Drop!” someone shouted from behind me, but the voice seemed to take a long time to reach my ears, so when I finally heard it, it sounded more like drooooooooooooop.

My mom, who was standing slightly diagonal to me and just behind Santa, immediately dropped to the floor, covering her head with her hands. But everything in my vision had changed to slow motion, so it seemed to take her forever to fall, as if I could see every moment of her movement occurring in a split-second time frame.

I felt a hand on my arm—maybe it was my dad’s or maybe it was Slash’s—pulling me backward. But my legs felt heavy, and I stumbled. Christmas music still played in what seemed like delayed time over the loudspeakers.

I’m dreeeeeeeaming of a whiiiiiite Christmaaaaaas…

Santa shouted something at me. I couldn’t make it out, but it didn’t seem friendly. His mouth moved in slow motion, his lips forming words I couldn’t understand.

At some point I realized Santa no longer pointed the gun in the air but was bringing it down inch by inch. I waited for my life to pass before my eyes, but it didn’t. Instead, two things happened simultaneously.

As the position of his gun lowered, Santa took a step backward and promptly tripped over the prone figure of my mom. The scene again unfolded in the delayed time of my vision. His legs flew up in the air, his body twisting as he struggled in a futile effort to stay upright. At the same time, a dark figure flew slowly through the air from behind my left side, his hands stretched out. That figure landed on top of Santa at exactly the moment he hit the floor flat on his back. I caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket.

Slash!

Shots were fired. Something hit me hard from behind, knocking me to the floor and forcing the breath from my lungs. As abruptly as it had started, the time warp I’d been locked in passed. My cheek was pressed to the cold airport floor. My senses were assaulted with real-time screams, a blaring alarm mixed with the Christmas music that was still playing, and the sounds of pounding feet and people shouting.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get the heavy thing off me, but it wasn’t budging. After what seemed like forever, the weight was lifted, and someone dragged me several feet away.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

I sat up and blinked a couple of times. A policeman dressed in a flak jacket and earpiece, with his gun out, knelt next to me, looking at me with a concerned expression on his face. “I think so.”

“Sorry. I brought you down for your protection. Are you injured?”

I patted my arms, legs, and head. All seemed in order. “I’m fine. But my mom, my dad, and…husband. My husband, he jumped Santa. Where is he?” I twisted and tried to stand on shaky legs to see the spot where we’d been standing in line, but there was such a crowd of people in the area, I couldn’t see them.

We were joined by a man in a dark suit, wearing an earpiece. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll need to come with me.” The policeman stepped back, deferring to the suited man, who flashed a badge.

“Are you the TSA?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am, and you need to come with me right now.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No. Of course not. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

“I’m sorry, but I need to check on my family first.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll bring them to you. We must go now.” He took my arm, pulling me away from the action. We passed a lot of policemen and people huddled into groups protected by security and police. I was honestly amazed at the level of security and how fast they had responded. He led me to a side door and into what looked like a security control room. Dozens of monitors were hanging from the walls, showing what looked like every angle of the airport. Phones were ringing, people were running around the room, and staff was barking orders. The TSA man steered me to a small room off the command center with a desk and a few chairs.

I thought it odd I’d been brought to this location for questioning. I wondered why there were no police present since a crime had obviously been committed. But given we were in the airport, I figured it qualified as a federal offense, hence the TSA involvement.

He closed the door and asked me to sit. I sat gingerly on the edge of the chair. “Can you tell me what happened out there?” he asked.

“Who exactly are you?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Frank Marks, a BDO.” He pulled out a wallet and showed me an ID.

I studied it and then looked up at him. “What’s a BDO?”

“BDO stands for a behavioral detection officer. We observe passengers in the airports, in person and on camera, looking for behaviors that might be suspicious. You know, like a cold, penetrating stare, or excessive sweating, or nervous behaviors of any kind. We already had eyes on Santa when you bumped into him in the baggage line. May I see your identification, please? Where are you headed?”

I’d been wearing my purse across my body, so it was still attached to me. I fished out my passport and handed it to him. “I’m traveling to Italy with my husband and parents. We live in Silver Spring, Maryland, and are headed to a family wedding.”

“All right.” He reviewed my passport and snapped a couple of quick photos of it with his phone. “So, what transpired between you and Santa?”

“Not much. My family and I got in line at the Alitalia counter to check our baggage. Santa was already standing there in front of us. It was crowded, so when I reached into my purse to get my passport, I elbowed him by accident. But instead of a bowl full of jelly, I hit something hard under his red coat.”

“You didn’t wonder what it might be?”

“There was no time. I said ‘ouch,’ because I hit my funny bone. Then, as I rubbed my elbow, I mentioned he had hard ribs.”

“How did he respond to that?”

“He told me to watch it. It wasn’t a friendly tone. I began to apologize, explaining it was crowded because of the holiday travelers. That’s when he pulled out an automatic weapon from beneath his jolly red coat, screamed at me to shut up, and fired a few rounds in the air.”

“Did he say anything to indicate a motive before he started shooting?”

“No. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

Frank scribbled some more notes. “Did you know him?”

“I’d never seen him before in my life, and I have an eidetic memory, so I would have remembered.”

Frank looked up, surprised. “Okay. Then what happened?”

“After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Someone behind me shouted for everyone to drop to the floor. That was likely my husband. My mom, who was standing near me and slightly behind Santa, followed directions and dropped immediately, covering her head with her hands.”

Frank looked impressed. “Just like that? She’s done that before?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but, yes, she’s done it before. Anyway, unlike my mom, somehow, I couldn’t move. Maybe I was worried he’d shoot my mom, dad, or husband. I can’t remember exactly what was going through my head at that moment. Anyway, I’d locked eyes with Santa, and he seemed focused on me. Then he pulled his gun down from the air where he’d shot the first round, possibly preparing to shoot me. But he took a step backward and promptly tripped over my mom. My husband jumped on him as he fell. I heard the gun go off again. Can you please check if my husband is okay?”

“Is your husband the guy wearing a leather jacket?”

“Yes. Did you see him?”

“I saw him on the camera. Does he work in law enforcement or the military?”

“No. He works for the NSA…in computers.”

Frank’s eyebrow lifted. “Okay, I’ll just go check on his status. Please stay here. I’ll get right back to you.”

As soon as he left, I began pacing the small office. Ten minutes later Frank returned. He opened the door, and Slash stepped inside.

“Thank goodness. You’re okay.” I ran to Slash, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight.

He squeezed me tightly and then pulled back, cupping my face in his hands and pressing a kiss on each cheek. His expression was tight with concern. “You were worried about me, cara? You faced him down. What were you thinking? All those lessons we did in dropping and protecting your head. I told you to drop, but you just stood there.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Slash. It just happened so fast, and I think a part of me wanted him focused on me so he didn’t shoot at my parents or you.”

He let out a sigh. “We’re definitely going to have to address that urge of self-sacrifice. I was able to wrestle the gun away from him seconds before airport security arrived and took him into custody. Your mom is the real hero for tripping him, even if it was accidental.”

“Where are they? My parents? Are they okay?”

“Right here, pumpkin,” my dad said, stepping into the office. Dad had his arm around Mom, and they both looked shaken but unhurt. I ran over, hugging them both at once. They held on to me tight for a moment.

“Oh my God,” I said, pulling away and swiping at my eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I had a lump in my throat that wouldn’t disappear even when I swallowed. “Mom, you totally saved the day.”

My mom pressed a hand to her chest, looking surprised. “I did?”

“You did. You dropped exactly when Slash told you to. Santa tripped over you and lost his balance. Because of that, he didn’t shoot me, and Slash was able to get control of the gun.” I looked over at Frank, who stood by the door. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No one got hurt thanks to the quick thinking of all of you.”

I closed my eyes in relief. At least one thing had gone right. “Who is Santa?” I asked. “Is he a domestic terrorist? I’ll be honest, he seemed pretty inept for a terrorist.” Unfortunately, I’d had firsthand experience with a couple of terrorists in my lifetime, and Santa just didn’t fit the profile.

“We’ve got a lot more work to do on that front before we can come to any conclusions,” Frank said. “However, in connection with that, there are more people who need to talk to you.”

“We can’t miss our flight,” I protested. “We’re going to a wedding. We don’t know anything else about Santa. It was a totally random encounter.”

“I understand that, and I’m sorry,” Frank replied. “Regardless, I’m afraid you’re going to miss your flight. That being said, we’ll try to make arrangements to get you on the next available flight out. We’re also working on collecting your baggage.”

I glanced at Slash, who shrugged in resignation. Looked like we didn’t have much of a say in the matter. I just hoped we didn’t have to tell the wedding party why we were going to be late, although I couldn’t see how we could avoid it.

“Everyone, please follow me.” Frank motioned for us to follow him out of his office.

I exhaled a deep breath, wishing I could shoot my little black cloud of trouble out of the sky or capture it in one of those Ghostbusters machines where it could be locked up forever. But, no, it seemed determined to follow me at every freaking turn. Maybe just once it could give me a break.

“I’m sorry,” I said to my family as we walked through the airport.

“It’s not your fault,” Slash said, pulling me to his side and kissing my temple. “Thank God no one was injured.”

“I’m in full agreement with that,” my dad said. “By the way, about that body armor, Slash, I do believe you assured me I wouldn’t need it.”

I closed my eyes, thinking it was going to be a long week if my dad kept needling Slash like this and I had to be quiet about it. Slash murmured a soft curse in Italian under his breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe it would be wise, just to be on the safe side.”

“Do I need some, too?” Mom asked.

“Put it on the list, Clarissa,” my dad said. “We’ll buy the best Italy can offer. No sense waiting until we get back. Like Slash said, just to be on the safe side.”