Chapter Seven
Back in The States:
Crossroads Airstrip; Virginia:
The night was frigid, nearing only about 8 degrees above freezing. A black sedan screeched to a halt about fifty yards from the runway of a small refurbished airstrip called Crossroads.
The CIA saw fit to use the place as a personal airstrip especially when handling covert ops. It was highly advantageous especially considering that it hadn’t been operational since the early 90s; thus one could land and take off without raising any eyebrows.
Grace Baitz alighted from the sedan and was walking towards a small Gulfstream 3 plane when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her petite clutch-bag and got infuriated when she took a look at the contact on screen.
She instantly knew who the caller was and so she tossed the phone b
