Wade and the Scorpion’s Claw. Tony Abbott

eyes were welling up. “Is he …”

      “Don’t say the word, please,” Dad said, tucking the blanket gently behind Mr. Chen’s shoulders, as if he were simply asleep.

      “He said protocol,” I whispered to no one in particular. “Nobody uses that word. Not to a kid. But he said it.” I must have had a sick look on my face, because in the middle of everyone moving, opening the overhead bins, talking, Becca put her good arm around me.

      Lily poked Darrell. “You told us Leathercoat wasn’t here.”

      Darrell looked as terrified as I felt, jerking his head in every direction. “I didn’t see him. I checked and rechecked.”

      We were being careful, not raising our voices, not leaving our seats. My heart was thundering; my ears rang. Passengers streamed down the aisles. I guess we appeared as though we were waiting for them to leave. When most of them had, we gathered our stuff and looked one last time at Mr. Chen, and my dad steered us off the plane into the Jetway.

      “We have to tell someone,” Becca said softly, wiping her cheeks. “Maybe airport security?” I was carrying her bag again, and I touched her hand for a second as we came out into the gate.

      “In a minute.” Dad scanned the passengers as they made their way down the concourse. “Telling the authorities might be uncomfortable for the Order, if the police even believe they did this—”

      “They did!” said Lily.

      “—but we were sitting next to him,” he continued. “And the investigation will keep us here. I know it sounds callous—cruel, even—but we can’t get drawn into this any more than we have to be. We didn’t actually know Mr. Chen. It could be unrelated.”

      “Dad, no,” I said, as calmly as I could. “First there’s Leathercoat; then Mr. Chen said protocol. Maybe he wanted to see if I would do or say anything. But I didn’t. Maybe I should’ve … I don’t know …”

      “Everyone, just stop. For a second,” Dad said. “I’m sorry; I mean … we’re obviously not playing around here. You know that.”

      I thought we knew it, but I guess there was more to learn. Dad had never wanted us to get mixed up in whatever this was becoming. From the murder of Uncle Henry to Sara’s kidnapping, it was way more dangerous than anything we’d thought possible. Now here we were, at an airport in a strange city, and a man sitting next to us had been murdered.

      The chubby, laughing baby’s parents settled him into his stroller, as he bubbled with giggles. The last few passengers exited the Jetway, some on their phones, others chatting with one another.

      “They’re all too busy to notice Mr. Chen,” Darrell said. “They don’t care about him just sitting there being all—”

      “Don’t say it.” I could hardly suck in enough air to breathe, and my head was light.

      “—murdered,” Darrell continued. “Maybe he saw Leathercoat follow you to the go room and made the connection.”

      Dad’s phone buzzed. He opened it. “The airline about the delay.”

      Then the man who’d joked with the baby and whose seat I had taken hurried out of the Jetway. His face was tight as he scanned every direction around him. When he saw us looking, he tried to put on a calmer face, even smiling, though it was easy to see the strain.

      “Did everyone see that?” Lily said softly. “He’s trying not to look worried. He must have noticed that Mr. Chen was dead.”

      “The flight crew discovered him,” Becca said shakily. “Look.”

      The woman who had pushed his seat upright rushed out of the Jetway to the attendants at the gate. The microphone thumped when she covered it with her hand. Her face was pale. She whispered a few words to them, and one made a call on his walkie-talkie. We just stood against the wall pretending not to watch. Soon a small group of security officers and airline officials converged at the gate. A pair of EMTs rolled in a gurney, and one of the attendants announced that there would be a delay before the next flight could depart.

      Then we saw him.

      Leathercoat.

      He strolled toward our gate from the opposite end of the concourse, a few paces behind the EMT folks. My spine went cold.

      “Was he on our flight or not?” asked Lily.

      “Not,” said Darrell. “Unless he can make himself invisible.”

      Leathercoat stopped amid the commotion. He listened to the security officers and raised his phone. He spoke into it, then hung up.

      Becca frowned. “Hold on. If it was his mission to kill Mr. Chen, why would he hang around? He’d already be out on the street.”