Scene 07-6 – Escape from the Airport
Location: Lima Airport, capital of the WO South America Region, North-Western Sector, Region II, Peru.
Time: 01:08:27. 11:57 p.m. UTC-5.
Setting: Security screening corridor and control area at the arrival terminal.
Genevieve was alone now. The escort had abandoned her. She was traveling on a study permit issued by the WO. As soon as she stepped off the plane, with only a few personal belongings in her backpack and the precious book hidden inside, she began the long process of making her way out of the document control area. Together with the few passengers who had traveled with her, after walking through corridors and wide glass-walled halls, she found herself facing the final obstacle.
The diligent officer at the checkpoint barely raised his eyes when she stepped in front of him.
“Place your luggage on the conveyor belt. Remove anything made of metal—chains, necklaces, coins, anything—and put it on the belt. Step into the screening corridor.”
Genevieve complied. She knew she was carrying something very particular and, generally speaking, prohibited: an ancient book. But she also had a special WO permit; it should have cleared her without issue.
The backpack was sent through the X-ray scanner, revealing the presence of a large volume whose interior was shielded by a thick cover of wooden boards and leather, fastened with metal studs that blocked the rays. The guard immediately became uneasy and suspicious. He looked her over for a moment, then said:
“Proceed through the inspection corridor.”
Genevieve passed the visual screening without any issues. However, on the other side, two guards prevented her from accessing her personal belongings.
The backpack was opened. A large red book was pulled out.
“And what is this?” asked the officer on the far side of the checkpoint.
“A book.”
“I can see that, but books like this are generally prohibited. Why do you have one?”
“I am traveling under a special permit, for study purposes. The WO has reason to believe that this book contains important information tied to a recent discovery made in Peru, near the Nazca Lines.”
“Mmmh… you mean the new restricted zone? We have orders not to allow anyone to go there.”
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“I have a special WO permit to travel—”
“I can see that. And what if it were forged?”
“It isn’t forged. I will contact my command, which I report to, and provide any credentials you require.”
“Which command? Westminster. London. You certainly seem important, but how am I supposed to be sure? Open the book,” he ordered, addressing the guards beside him.
“That is not possible. This is reserved for my arrival at the new Nazca Lines base.”
“Open the book,” he ordered.
The guards next to the chief officer stepped forward and began trying to pry open the metal studs, which appeared to be gold, that held the book’s covers together. One by one, the studs snapped open. The book could now be leafed through.
“Let’s see. And what is this book about? Who wrote it? What language is it in? It doesn’t look like English.”
“No, it isn’t English. It’s Renaissance Italian.”
“Renaissance Italian? And what kind of language would Renaissance Italian be? And what is this book about?”
“I couldn’t say, sir. I am forbidden to read it, and if I were you, I would be very careful. I have specific orders regarding it.”
“Ah, so it’s a prohibited book. Then… this puts you in serious trouble. I’m placing you under arrest.”
“But how? I have special documents. I am under the direct authority of the Ministry of the Interior, of the Prime Minister.”
“I’m sorry. We answer directly to the Ministry of Intelligence Services, and I have orders to stop anyone traveling with prohibited books aboard a flight bound for Lima.”
“That’s impossible.”
On one side of the airport, part of the small crowd gathered in the waiting area beyond the glass wall began to sway. Then shots were heard. People started running, trying to hide.
The guard froze for a moment and was briefly distracted. A team of special operations agents—also referred to as terrorists by the local authorities—was cutting its way through with bursts of automatic laser rifle fire. The glass wall protecting the control area shattered and collapsed with a violent crash of breaking crystal.
Another guard moved closer to Genevieve. It was practically impossible to distinguish between agents, guards, and terrorists.
“Take the book and follow the blue line. Run. Get out of here. Don’t think about it. This is none of your business.”
Genevieve did not need to be told twice and headed toward the blue line, which began just a few steps away and probably marked the exit route.
At the moment the shots rang out, she had retreated again and found herself at the entrance to the inspection corridor. Taking advantage of the confusion, she tried to move back toward her belongings, but a guard stepped into her path and prevented her from getting any closer. The duty officer who had stopped her—and who was now under fire from the “terrorists”—after the initial moment of confusion, locked his eyes on her again, determined to stop her.
He was running in her direction, alongside the inspection corridor. Genevieve sprinted toward the corridor entrance, while her pursuer tried to intercept her.
Genevieve jumped—almost flew—over the inspection screens. For a brief moment, the screens framed the leap of more than two meters. With her legs fully spread, she cleared the top of the screens and crashed down onto the officer with the full force of her body, amplified by the speed of her fall. Her right leg drew back into flexion, then snapped forward like a blade, striking the officer between the neck and beneath the jaw. He collapsed and did not get back up.
Just beyond his head, at the broken neck, the blue line resumed. To the side, immediately past the screens, she saw her backpack and the book lying on the conveyor belt, now unattended. Genevieve grabbed the book and put it back into the backpack. With a quick motion, she shouldered it and followed the line at a run. In moments, she merged into the crowd fleeing toward the exit.
Ready for takeoff.
January 6, 2026.
Quetzal on the verge of a space-time jump:
