Chapter 7 - THE SECOND MAN WAS IN FIRST CLASS
Emergency lights came on.
People screamed.
Norah did not.
That scared me.
Children should scream when frightened.
Silence meant she was trying to be brave for me.
I hated that.
Jillian moved through the cabin with a flashlight.
Jason checked passengers.
Keane remained inside the cockpit.
Voss was restrained near the galley.
The second operative could be anyone.
Then I remembered something.
Douglas Martinez.
The real Douglas.
If Voss had used his identity, where was the man whose name he stole?
Passenger records showed Douglas Martinez had checked in.
Boarded.
His passport scanned.
But Voss occupied his seat.
The real Douglas had never reached 4A.
“He had help at the gate,” Jason said.
“Or someone switched boarding credentials.”
We checked the manifest for anomalies.
One passenger had boarded at the last minute after a seat change.
Dr. Samuel Price.
Seat 1C.
Cardiologist.
Conveniently, the same passenger who had first examined the unconscious captain.
My blood went cold.
“Where is Price?”
Jillian looked toward first class.
Empty seat.
We found him inside the forward lavatory.
Dead.
Neck broken.
Not our operative.
Another victim.
His medical bag was missing.
Who had access to it?
A man in 3F claimed someone wearing crew clothing borrowed it after the captain’s emergency.
Stolen disguise again.
But Voss had already used Natalie’s uniform.
Two fake crew members.
Then Norah said:
“Dad?”
I turned.
She stood beside Jillian.
“What?”
“The man who gave me juice.”
My stomach tightened.
“What man?”
“Before everybody got scared.”
She pointed toward first class.
“He had the same pin as Uncle Caleb.”
I froze.
“What pin?”
“A silver bird.”
My brother Caleb wore a silver falcon lapel pin.
All senior members of my organization did.
I had stopped wearing mine after Norah’s mother died.
“Show me who.”
Norah scanned the passengers.
Then pointed.
Seat 2A.
Older man.
Gray sweater.
Reading glasses.
Arthur Lane.
Insurance executive.
I knew him.
Not as Arthur Lane.
His real name was Michael Sloan.
Patrick Sloan’s older brother.
A man supposedly living in Florida.
I approached.
He looked up.
“Warren.”
There was no point pretending.
“Michael.”
Passengers nearby stared.
“You poisoned the captain.”
“No.”
“Your man did.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To get you back to Chicago.”
“You sabotaged a transatlantic aircraft to change my travel plans?”
“We sedated the captain. That was all.”
“That alone can kill people.”
“He was supposed to get sick before departure.”
“But timing went wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Why did Patrick need me home?”
Michael looked away.
“Your organization is changing hands tonight.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“Your brother made a deal.”
Caleb.
The one person I had protected from the worst of our world.
“What deal?”
“With the Marconi family.”
My rival.
“What does that have to do with me flying to London?”
“Everything.”
I was traveling to London officially for a logistics conference.
Unofficially, I planned to meet bankers and begin moving my legitimate companies into a trust for Norah.
I intended to dismantle the criminal side over the next eighteen months.
Only Patrick and Caleb knew.
“They found out you were leaving the business.”
Michael nodded.
“They think you’re surrendering.”
“So they’re taking it.”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed.
Years building an empire.
And it began collapsing while I sat in economy teaching my daughter not to waste fifty dollars.
Maybe that was justice.
Then Michael leaned closer.
“But Caleb didn’t order your plane sabotaged.”
“Who did?”
“Patrick.”
“Why?”
“He wanted you delayed until Caleb signed.”
“And Caleb?”
“He thinks Patrick is helping him take control.”
“Is he?”
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
“What does Patrick want?”
“Norah.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My daughter?”
Michael’s voice dropped.
“Your wife left something in her name.”
Norah’s mother, Emily.
Dead four years.
A woman I thought had never touched my criminal business.
“What?”
“An account.”
“How much?”
“Not money.”
Michael looked frightened.
“Evidence.”
Emily had secretly copied the financial records of my entire organization before she died.
And according to Michael, she hid the encryption key inside something nobody would ever take from Norah.
I looked toward my daughter.
Her worn teddy bear.
Bear.
The toy she carried everywhere.
The one Emily had given her before she died.
Then the cockpit alarm sounded again.
Aaron shouted:
“Warren!”
We were descending through twenty thousand feet.
Ireland finally appeared on navigation.
But our fuel situation had deteriorated faster than expected.
Aaron looked at the numbers.
May you like
“We have maybe forty-five minutes.”
The nearest suitable runway was forty-eight minutes away.
