Chapter 2 - SOMEONE HAD SABOTAGED THE AIRCRAFT
The first thing combat aviation teaches you is that panic wastes oxygen.
The second is that machines usually tell the truth before people do.
I studied the displays.
Left hydraulic pressure unstable.
Flight-control feedback inconsistent.
Satellite communications offline.
Captain unconscious.
Avionics access warning.
Individually, any one of those could happen.
Together?
No.
“Who can enter the avionics bay?”
Aaron asked.
“Crew. Maintenance on the ground.”
“In flight?”
“Technically, certain access points exist from inside the cabin.”
“Technically?”
He understood what I meant.
Possible was enough.
“Can we maintain altitude?”
“For now.”
“For now is doing a lot of work.”
Aaron almost smiled.
Good.
A man who could still react to humor could still think.
I pointed toward the controls.
“Walk me through your current configuration.”
He did.
The 787 was dramatically different from anything I had flown operationally, but cockpit logic had its own language.
Attitude.
Power.
Energy.
Trim.
Weather.
Navigation.
Priorities did not change because software became prettier.
We stabilized the aircraft.
Not perfectly.
Enough.
Then I told Aaron:
“You fly. I troubleshoot.”
He looked surprised.
“You have more experience under abnormal conditions.”
“Not in this aircraft.”
That mattered.
Ego killed pilots.
“I’m backup.”
He nodded.
Good.
Jillian appeared at the cockpit entrance.
“We checked the forward access panel.”
“And?”
“It was open.”
“Who was nearby?”
“One passenger said he saw a man kneeling there earlier.”
“Description?”
“Dark suit. Airline lanyard.”
Aaron frowned.
“Crew?”
“No one on our manifest.”
My stomach tightened.
“Air marshal?”
Jillian shook her head.
“There is one onboard. Different man.”
Someone had boarded with false airline credentials.
“Lock down the cabin.”
“We can’t announce there may be sabotage.”
“Don’t. Medical emergency. Nobody leaves their seat.”
Then another thought struck me.
“Captain’s meal.”
Aaron looked at me.
“What about it?”
“Did you eat the same thing?”
“No. Crew policy. Different meals.”
“Did he drink anything you didn’t?”
Aaron’s face changed.
“Coffee.”
“Who brought it?”
He looked toward Jillian.
She went pale.
“Natalie.”
“Where is Natalie?”
Jillian turned.
“I haven’t seen her since the turbulence.”
The missing flight attendant was found four minutes later.
Unconscious.
Locked inside the rear service lavatory.
She had a head injury.
Her uniform jacket was missing.
So was her identification badge.
The person posing as airline staff had not arrived dressed that way.
He had taken the disguise after boarding.
That meant he was a passenger.
I thought of Norah.
My pulse kicked.
“Jillian.”
“Yes?”
“My daughter stays where she is.”
“We’ll watch her.”
“No stranger approaches her. Nobody moves her unless you or I say so.”
Understanding crossed her face.
“You think this is connected to you?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
But my world had long taught me something ugly.
When catastrophe followed Warren Hayes onto an airplane, assuming coincidence could get a child killed.
Then Aaron spoke.
“Warren.”
One of the navigation displays had changed.
Our programmed route to London was gone.
A new waypoint had appeared.
Coordinates over the North Atlantic.
No airport.
No land.
Nothing.
Aaron tried to delete it.
The system refused.
Then text appeared on the multifunction display.
Not standard aircraft text.
A message.
HAYES.
My blood turned cold.
Aaron looked at me.
“You said your name was Warren.”
I stared at the screen.
The next line appeared.
WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
Then:
DO NOT LAND IN EUROPE.
May you like
The sabotage was not random.
Somebody had built the entire emergency around me.
