Chapter 4 - THE DEAD PILOT ON THE INTERCOM
People started screaming.
The announcement had used my name.
Not the name on my public business cards.
Not an alias.
My real name.
Douglas Martinez stood in the aisle.
“What the hell is going on?”
I ignored him.
Jillian hurried toward me.
“The captain wants you back up front.”
I looked at Norah.
She grabbed my hand.
“No.”
My heart broke.
“I have to help.”
“That man knows you.”
“Yes.”
“Is he bad?”
I crouched.
“I don’t know yet.”
That was the truth.
Elias Ward had saved my life.
He’d also just threatened hundreds of people.
Both facts existed at once.
I motioned to Jillian.
“Stay with her.”
Norah shook her head fiercely.
“I want you.”
I pressed my forehead against hers.
“I’m coming back.”
Then I walked toward the cockpit.
Douglas grabbed my sleeve.
“You’re the reason this is happening.”
I turned.
“Sit down.”
“Who are you?”
“Not someone you want distracting right now.”
Maybe it was my tone.
Maybe my face.
Whatever it was, Douglas released me.
Inside the cockpit, the captain looked grim.
“We heard it.”
“Can he access the intercom remotely?”
“Not normally.”
“Then he’s on board.”
The first officer turned.
“Passenger 2C?”
“Probably.”
The captain contacted cabin crew.
Security procedures tightened.
No one moved unnecessarily.
The search began discreetly.
Then I pulled out the photograph.
Elias and Elena.
The captain studied it.
“Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Did she work aviation?”
“No.”
At least, I thought no.
Then I inserted the memory card into an offline tablet provided by the crew.
One encrypted folder appeared.
ELENA.
Password protected.
I tried our anniversary.
Rejected.
Norah’s birthday.
Rejected.
Then I remembered Elena’s favorite phrase.
Time reveals what fear hides.
Rejected.
I almost gave up.
Then I looked at the brass key.
A number engraved along the side:
Flight 718.
Our flight number.
My blood turned cold.
I typed 718.
The folder opened.
Inside were photographs of aircraft maintenance records.
Military procurement files.
Bank transfers.
And a video.
Elena appeared.
Alive.
Sitting inside a London hotel room.
“Warren, if you’re seeing this, Elias survived.”
I stopped breathing.
She continued:
“And if you’re on Flight 718, then someone used our daughter to make sure you came.”
My hands curled.
“Elena…”
The video continued.
“Please understand something. Elias isn’t the man behind this.”
I looked at the captain.
Then Elena whispered:
“The man who ordered the sabotage is someone you trust more than anyone.”
The video flickered.
A name appeared.
ARTHUR COLE.
My right-hand man.
May you like
The man currently running my organization in Chicago.
The man who had booked our London flight.
