Chapter 8: The Intercept
Chapter 8: The Intercept
Friday night in Miami was sweltering. The neon lights reflected off the slick tarmac of the Opa-locka Executive Airport. Federal agents were positioned in the maintenance bays, while Owen sat in an unmarked surveillance van with Vargas and the lead FBI agent.
At 10:45 PM, a black town car pulled up to Hangar 4. Camille stepped out, wearing dark sunglasses despite the hour, clutching a heavy duffel bag. She looked frantic, constantly checking over her shoulder.
Inside the hangar, a twin-engine Gulfstream was prepped. Nolan stood by the stairs, holding a silver briefcase.
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“Where’s the money?” Camille demanded as she approached him. Nolan opened the briefcase, revealing stacks of hundred-dollar bills. “Here. Now get on the plane. We transfer in Bogota.”
As Camille reached for the briefcase, Nolan suddenly snapped it shut, his eyes darting toward the shadows. “Wait. You were followed.”
