The Betrayal Heist
CHAPTER 1
At John F. Kennedy International Airport, the interior atmosphere was filled with red bleeping lights. However, when their flashes became too fast, they were replaced by an orange-yellow fire. Five minutes later, special agent John Starling grudgingly awoke to his vibrating mobile.
"Good morning John" an elderly man said. Starling glanced at his alarm clock. 3:00a.m. Hell of an early morning, he thought.
"And to you sir," John answered. "What's the problem?"
"I need you down at J.F.K now! You'll see the problem for yourself… It might shock you." He warned.
"No offense sir, but I don't think so." John boasted and hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, the 33-year-old agent was staring at the ruins of J.F.K, which was completely surrounded by police cars and three armoured Land Rovers. Ambulances were also at the scene, treating pedestrians that were unlucky enough to get caught in the blast.
"I don't believe this." John muttered to himself.
"I did warn you" a familiar voice replied. John instantly turned around to see a man with a tight suit and a hard face. His eyes were always cold, emotionless.
"Good to see you again sir." John remarked. Of course, they last saw each other only six hours ago at the office, but John felt it was a lifetime ago.
"I have to admit, the police were quick on the draw. They got seventeen cars around the airport in just under a minute!" the old man exclaimed. "A little too quick for me." He said.
"But this is an airport, how could this have happened?" John asked.
"Well, first things first, the airport was closed today, well technically yesterday." His boss answered.
"Why was the airport closed?" Starling said.
"Because officially it was closed for further construction." The old man replied. At this, John's ears pricked up.
"And unofficially?" he quizzed. The boss of the Federal Bureau Investigation almost smiled at that.
"Gold was supposed to be transferred to banks across the world from J.F.K." he said.
"What? How co-" John asked.
"Not here! We got to get back to HQ. We'll talk there." The boss finished.
Two days later, John was staring out from one of many office windows, situated at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington D.C. As he turned back to his desk, his answer machine turned on, carrying a message from one of the receptionists.
"Mr. Starling, a conference is taking place on the 2nd floor, department B regarding J.F.K. Mr. Jameson insists that you attend. 1.05pm, sharp." John walks towards the machine, pressing and holding a button to reply.
"Thank you Sarah," he said lazily. He sat down for a moment and turned to his computer to finish his report. As he walked out of his office, he saw the department clock. 1.04pm. "Oh shit" he muttered as he ran towards one of the elevators that would take him 7 floors down. When he opened the door to the meeting room, dozens of agents were already seated around the projector board that was displaying images of the former airport. John noticed that the only person looking at him was Mr. Jameson who signalled to him to sit down and watch. Starling crept towards the back, and took a seat.
"Late again as usual," the old man said coldly. John hated the way he always took things so seriously.
"Sorry sir, it won't happen again." he said hopelessly. As the viewing of J.F.K came to an end, secretaries began handing out files that were handed to every agent.
"These files contain your assignments. Read and shred" the operation leader said as he pointed at the nearby the diamond-cut shredder. There was a large rustle as everyone opened their file. Starling opened his file and looked at the objective. "Check the N.Y.P.D station and interrogate chief inspector Davidson."