The Hitman

The Swap

Nick Sievers' POV

I lowered my gaze to the shiny tiled floor and approached the bathroom. The sounds of rolling suitcases, flight delay announcements, and complaining travelers filled the air around me.

I pushed open the bathroom door with gloved hands and entered one of the few open stalls. Shoot. There were too many people here.

I pulled out my non-track phone and texted Agent Anderson.

in position. too many people. u?

Anderson replied almost immediately.

already done

I rolled my eyes. Lucky break.

But as for me, I would just have to wait. The busy bathroom slowly quieted down, until I couldn't hear anyone else's breathing. They were all gone.

The bathroom door creaked open, and I heard the squeaky wheels of a rolling cart. Perfect.

I flushed the toilet and stepped out of the stall, nodding to the janitor. He glanced up for a brief moment, but instantly went back to work.

I washed my hands then moved to stand by the blow dryer behind him. I turned it on to block the noise and locked the bathroom door. Then I turned back to the man, who had caught on. He inched backward, a mop in his hand. As if that qualified as a weapon.

"Don't hurt me," he pleaded.

I shrugged. "Blame the FBI." With that, I brought a hand down on the pressure point in his neck and he collapsed. I quickly removed his uniform and changed into that before dragging the man into the closest open stall.

I propped him up on the toilet and placed his feet on the toilet paper dispenser so no one would find him any time soon. I locked the door to the stall, put a foot on the toilet paper dispenser to give myself a boost, then vaulted over the stall door.

I rifled through the janitor's cart, looking for something. Cleaner, nope. Dirty rag, disgusting.

There. I grabbed the "out of order" sign and placed it on the door to the janitor's stall. I picked up the mop he had dropped, inserted it in the cart, and texted Anderson.

gate 6a 5 minutes

I unlocked the bathroom door to see a line of people forming. "Sorry," I murmured, "maintenance check."

Brook Aldridge's POV

I pushed the door open to the Security room with one hand while balancing on my crutches with the other. I glanced back one final time at Conway, who was leaning inconspicuously against the wall outside, before heading in.

An older man with thin gray hair glanced up at me. "Hello, ma'am, how can I help you?"

I frowned. "There's a man that has been harassing me ever since I entered the airport. I can't get him to leave me alone."

"Well, let's see what I can do," the man said. He pushed up from the chair and grabbed the keys off his desk, shoving them in his pocket. He walked past me, holding the door open so I could walk through. I nodded and thanked him.

"Where's the fellow?" the security officer asked, following me into the main terminal.

I frowned and looked around. "He was right here....maybe he left after he saw me enter security."

The man nodded. "Then I guess I'll head back. Let me know if he bothers you again."

He turned around to leave, but Conway bumped into him. The man nearly toppled over, but Conway caught him. "I am so sorry, sir."

"You young'uns and your rush to be everywhere...." the officer muttered as he left.

We waited several moments after he left before Conway reunited with me. "Do you have them?" I asked.

Conway opened his hand to reveal a set of shining keys.

Nick Sievers' POV

This was it. The rendezvous point.

I began to push the cart and walk slowly as Conway and Aldridge approached. I lowered my head and nodded, waiting for them to pass. As Conway walked mere inches from the cart, he inconspicuously dropped a set of keys on its surface. Good. At least they had done their part.

Conway and Aldridge kept walking, as if no exchange had taken place. I pushed the cart toward a janitorial closet and unlocked the door with the keys Conway had lifted, then pushed the cart into the dark closet.

I pocketed the keys and closed the door again, then began walking toward the workers' entrance to Gate 6A. As the schematics unfurled in my head, I took a few rights, then a left. I walked past the Starbucks, then turned left again. On and on this pattern went, until I found myself at the back entrance of Gate 6A.

Anderson wasn't here yet. I glanced up to make sure no one was around, then texted her to make sure there was no trouble.

u ok?

Anderson didn't respond for several moments. But when she did, it wasn't what I expected.

yeah. director found a better way. meet me outside on tarmac

I looked at the window. Anderson waved at me frantically. What the heck was she doing? She'd be seen.

My phone buzzed again.

trust me

I sighed and patted my back pocket to reassure myself that the knife was still there.

I glanced back toward Anderson, who was still waving at me. I fumbled in my other pocket for the maintenance keys. I unlocked the back door and was instantly embraced by the arid weather.

I walked toward Anderson, who had yet to stop waving. I shook my head, trying to signal her to stop.

She was saying something, but I couldn't hear her over the motors of the plane.

It's some crap, she was mouthing. But that didn't make sense.

I stopped and cocked my head. She exaggerated the movement of her lips.

Tramp. Was that supposed to insult me?

Tramp, she mouthed again. Her eyes widened and she gestured to my right. People were approaching.

I beckoned to her. We needed to get back inside.

She bit her lip and shook her head, pointing to a figure on one knee several feet away. He had....he had a rifle pointed at her.

And then I realized what she has been trying to mouth.

Trap.