12 Minutes (#2 in Military series)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mexico City International Airport. 12 p.m. Local time

Two government officials dressed in tight fitting suits and guns in their hands stormed the plane the moment they landed.

The air hostess called for everyone to remain calm and still over the tanoid, first in their native language and once again in English.

No one failed to notice that she remained at the front of the aircraft as the two men progressed quickly down left-hand aisle.

Some passengers had their hands on the seat in front whilst others had raised their arms into the air but the two men weren't looking at any of them, and as they passed everyone could see the communication devices that protruded from their ears slightly.

Everyone they passed turned to look after them, waiting to see where they stopped and what they were looking for.

They soon got their wish when the two men reached a row in the middle of the plane. They raised their guns at a young dark-haired man as they began to shout in English, "Carlos Ramirez! Carlos Ramirez! Get your hands in the air!"

"Hey- Whoa, alright!" Came the passenger's reply as he found two government-issued handguns pointed at his face. His hands were already resting on the seat in front of him but rather than receive a bullet to the head he raised them into the air and complied, something told him these blokes weren't messing about.

The two men looked him over before demanding to know if his name was Carlos Ramirez.

"No, man, my name's Dylan Beckett." As he said it he knew that it wasn't what they wanted to hear as they shared a concerned look with each other.

"It is seat 32B, yes?" One man asked the other, perplexed, lowering his gun. Dylan began to breathe a little easier.

The other man nodded but kept his gun raised.

Dylan swallowed around the lump in his throat, he could feel the woman beside him trembling and it wasn't helping his own nerves.

"Let me see your boarding pass," The man who had lowered his gun told Dylan, stretching out his hand for it.

Dylan licked his dry lips and looked to the man with the gun. He hesitantly started to lower his hands but when no gunshot rang out he took it that he had permission to move. Dylan reached into his jeans pocket and produced a plain white ticket, his heart beat pounding against his chest.

Taking the ticket off him - Dylan instantly raising his hands once again - the man looked at the name stamped across the front of it before showing his partner.

'CARLOS RAMIREZ' was the name stamped across the ticket.

"Who gave this to you?" The man asked Dylan.

"Some guy outside the airport in London," Dylan spoke fast, "He was meant to go on some type of business trip but his wife went into labour. He gave me the ticket instead."

"And you just took it?" The other man asked as he lowered his gun, obviously thinking that Dylan was a few pennies short of a pound.

Dylan simply shrugged, as if that was answer enough. Afterall, who was going to give up on a free holiday?

One of the men laughed and Dylan released a shaky breath of relief, he felt as if he had passed some sort of test, whilst the other lifted a hand and pressed at the ear piece.