The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

street toward the exit.
    Pettis sat back and calmly reached for his seat belt. Grochonski looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust, then turned and looked out the back glass at the gathering crowd, wondering what the hell had happened and who the hell he was working for.
    From the middle of the small crowd, Robin stepped forward and looked at the bus driver, frantically gesticulating as he told his story to the airport police officer. He turned and watched as the cab drove away.

    * * *

    Kelly sped down the street toward the terminal and slowed down, as she had at the last three terminals. The three of them looked out at the scattered travelers. “Five in the morning and we’re driving around the airport. How do you expect to find the boy?” she wondered aloud.
    Wheeler noticed a commotion up ahead. A bus sat cockeyed in the street, a small crowd of people around it, obviously an accident of some kind. “Well, I hope it’s not like that,” he said. “Be careful getting around this mess.”
    As they slowly drove past the bus, Arty looked back and did a sudden double-take. “Stop! Stop the car!” he shouted. Kelly slammed on the brakes as Arty threw open the back door.
    “What—” she began, but he was already out and bounding across the street toward the terminal.
    “Okay,” said Wheeler, “that’s either really good or really bad. I’ll go after him.”
    “No, let’s not get separated. He knows more about what’s going on than we do. Let’s circle around a few times and see if he shows up.”
    “Okay, sure.”
    “Come with me, quick!” Arty shouted. Hoping Aurora and Denes were right about, well, everything, he grabbed Robin by the arm and ushered him quickly but gently inside the terminal.
    “Hey, get off! What do you think you’re doin’?” Robin yelled at him.
    “Take it easy, Robin, I’m a friend.” Arty smiled. “Remember me?”
    Robin looked closely at Arty and suddenly recognized his clothes and arm unit. “Holy crap, you’re the guy from my room! Who are you, anyway? How did you get here from Colby?”
    “All in good time, all in good time. Right now, we need to keep you away from those Air Force goons.”
    Robin stopped short, suddenly calm. “Oh, right, you know about those guys,” he recalled. “Hey, did you see the accident just now?” he asked, pointing a thumb back toward the door. “One of them got hit by a bus! It was brutal.”
    “Ah, so that’s what the commotion was about. I don’t suppose it was Major Pettis.”
    “The tough guy in the officer’s cap? Nah, it was one of the soldiers with him. Not the big guy, the other one.”
    “Hmph. Okay, listen, we need to find a place to talk. Have I got a story for you,” Arty chuckled. He smiled at the boy. Robin looked suspiciously at him, but smiled back.
    Not far down the nearly deserted terminal hallway, Arty saw wooden double doors—unusual for an airport—and a sign above them that read, “Floyd Spago Marsters Inter-Faith Chapel.” Hmm, an airport chapel. Arty’s brows furrowed. For what, praying your plane doesn’t crash?
    “There,” he said to Robin, pointing to the doors. “Perfect.”
    They entered the room, comfortably but cheaply appointed with perhaps fifty cushioned chairs, split by a center aisle, and lit by subdued, indirect fixtures. They were alone, and the room was very quiet. Heavy drapery lined three walls; the front wall was a warm, vividly grained wood. A small lectern stood there, above which hung a large metal cross, dominating the room. Arty looked curiously at the cross. What part of inter-faith did old Floyd not get, exactly?
    He sat Robin in a chair and turned the one across the aisle ninety degrees for himself. Robin sat patiently. Arty took a deep breath.
    Before he could begin, Robin asked, “So what’s that thing on your arm? It’s cool looking.”
    “I’ll get to that,” Arty promised. “Robin, this is tough. I don’t know if you’re going to believe what I have to say. I hope at least you believe I’m your friend.”
    “Well,” Robin observed, “you helped me get away at the orphanage, and anybody who knows those uniformed dorks are the bad guys is okay by me.”
    “Good, let’s start there. I know why they’re after you. They think you took something that belongs to them.” Robin nodded sheepishly. “But you didn’t take it. Eli did.”
    “He said it was for their own good,” Robin said defensively.
    “And it was, from Eli’s