The Left Behind Collection by Tim LaHaye & Jerry B. Jenkins

Author:Tim LaHaye & Jerry B. Jenkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Futuristic
ISBN: 9781496405548
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2014-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Rayford had to give Dwayne his due. He may have been a loudmouth, but he had come up with the best plan for spiriting Rayford out of Le Havre. “We didn’t get to use my ideas for ditchin’ Hattie’s boyfriend,” he said, “so this is only fair.”

It was clear Trudy was proud of what she had accomplished that morning, but she was also still shaken and wanted no responsibility for another caper on their way out of the country.

She and her husband preceded Rayford to the airport by fifteen minutes to drop off their rental and get the plane ready for takeoff. Rayford would follow and drop off his car, then casually move to the back side of the lot where a fence separated the cars from the terminal. Dwayne had noticed that the area behind the fence led around the end of the terminal building and directly out to the runway. “You can either hop that fence and run to the plane—once you’ve heard it screamin’ and know we’re ready to go—or I can bring the plane close to that fence and make it easier for you.”

“Pros and cons?” Rayford said.

“It could be a long run to the plane, and you’ve been gimpy on that knee. On the other hand, if I bring the Super J to the fence, that’ll draw a lot of eyes and maybe even some freaked-out officials trying to keep me out of that area.”

They finally decided that Dwayne would get the plane into takeoff position and then ask permission to taxi out of the sun near the terminal to check out something underneath. That would put him closer to where Rayford could vault the fence. “I’ll tell ’em I heard a squeak in a wheel bearing and see if I can’t get ’em to poke around under there with me while you’re slipping aboard.”

All went well until Rayford pulled into the rental lot. The Super J was on the runway, engines whining. The rental attendant asked him something in French, then translated into English. “Are you keeping it on the charge card?”

Rayford nodded as the young man printed the receipt and kept looking from the handheld machine to Rayford’s eyes. “Excuse me,” he said, turning his back to Rayford and talking into his walkie-talkie. Rayford didn’t understand much of the French, but he was certain the man was asking a coworker something about “Agee, Thomas.”

The receipt was printing as the man spoke, but when he tore it off he didn’t hand it to Rayford. “No did go through,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Rayford said. “It’s right there.”

“Please to wait and I try again.”

“I’m late,” Rayford said, backing away and aware of movement near the terminal. “Send me a bill.”

“No, must you wait. Need new card.”

“Bill me,” Rayford said, looking over his shoulder to see the Super J slowly taxiing his direction. Three men ran from the terminal toward the rental lot. Rayford sprinted toward the fence, and the agent yelled for help.

Rayford guessed

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