The Maybach Imperium glided forward, its silent engine carrying them out of the cool shadow of Hangar 14 and back into the glare of late evening.
The hydraulic doors of the hangar rolled upward again, and sunlight poured across the polished bodywork.
Waiting just outside were three vehicles, idled in formation: a white-and-blue LAX Airport Police patrol car at the front, its rooftop lights already flashing in muted warning, and behind it, two black Chevrolet Suburbans with government plates.
Nick's hands tightened slightly on the wheel when he saw them, and he reported to Liam.
"Sir," he said carefully, nodding toward the formation. "We've got company. Patrol in front… but those are federal tags on the Suburbans."
From the backseat, Liam didn't even shift his posture. He looked at the scene with mild amusement, then. responded, "Don't worry about it. Just drive. They're here to escort us."
The words slipped out as casually as if he were talking about a hotel valet.
