50
Sara
I return to find Peter and the twins clustered around the entrance to the cockpit. All three men are on their feet, gesticulating with jabbing motions as they argue in Russian with Anton.
My stomach dives. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Our Venezuelan contact sold us out,” Ilya says over his shoulder. “Or maybe he was caught—we don’t know for sure. Either way, the police are waiting for us to land, which means we need to stretch our fuel supplies and get to another—”
“There’s no stretching the fuel, Anton told you that.” Yan’s voice is hard and sharp. “I say we chance it with the police. If our fuel runs out, that’s certain death, but with the cops—”
“We have seven percent left,” Peter says. “That’s enough to get us to some other airport nearby.”
“Where they’ll be wa
