Chapter 1
The last passenger stepped onto the jet bridge carrying a neck pillow and an expression that suggested he planned to complain to somebody important.
Then the cabin door shut.
I was still in 12A, my left leg stiff beneath the seat in front of me, while a flight attendant stood at the aisle with her hands clasped too tightly.
Beyond the jet bridge windows, three armed men waited on the apron. They wore dark uniforms without visible insignia. One watched the aircraft door. Another kept looking toward the terminal, as if he expected someone to come running.
The third looked directly at me.
“Mr. Mercer,” the flight attendant said, “they’ve asked you to wait here.”
“They?”
“I was told an officer would explain.”
The captain appeared from the forward galley, his face pale beneath the careful calm he’d worn over the intercom.
“Are we in trouble?” I asked.
“No, sir. We’re following instructions.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His eyes moved toward the closed cockpit door. “It’s the only one I have.”
I stood. My injured leg gave a tight, familiar pull, the kind that warned me not to pretend it was fine. The flight attendant reached to steady me, then stopped before touching my arm.
“I’m okay,” I said.
She nodded, though neither of us believed me.
A man entered from the jet bridge. He was broad-shouldered, close-cropped, and dressed like the others. His gaze went to the phone in my hand.
“Commander Mercer. I need you to come with us and surrender that device.”
“Who gave you the order?”
“I’m authorized to handle this.”
“By whom?”
His jaw shifted. “Sir, this isn’t the place.”
“It’s exactly the place. You want my phone. Tell me who ordered it.”
The flight attendant took a small step back. The captain stayed near the galley, watching the stranger’s hands.
I wasn’t trying to make a scene. I’d spent enough years following orders to know the difference between a bad order and no order at all.
The man held out his palm.
“Phone.”
“No.”
His eyes flicked over my beard and tattoos, then settled on my face. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“Then make it easy. Identify the order and your authority.”
He leaned closer. I caught the sharp scent of aftershave beneath the stale cabin air.
“You’re not in a position to negotiate.”
“Then you don’t need me to hand it over.”
For a second, something in his expression slipped. Not anger. Calculation.
The jet bridge door opened behind him.
Jake Morrison came through at a fast walk, his gaze sweeping the cabin before it landed on me. He looked older than the last time I’d seen him, though maybe that was the light. His hair had gone more gray at the temples. His shoulders were still squared like he expected the world to hit him from the front.
“Dan,” he said.
“Jake.”
He glanced at the man blocking the aisle. “You can step aside.”
“This is a controlled operation.”
“Then control it from the jet bridge.”
The man didn’t move.
Jake took one more step. “Now.”
The stranger’s eyes met Jake’s. For a beat, neither of them spoke. Then the man backed toward the door, but he didn’t look away from me.
Jake waited until the door closed behind him.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
“Not here.”
“That’s what you said on the phone.”
“I said I couldn’t tell you over that line.”
“You’re standing beside me now.”
His eyes went to the remaining flight attendant and the captain. “This hold was meant to keep you out of reach.”
“Whose reach?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You don’t know who ordered armed men to stand outside my plane?”
“I know somebody anticipated you’d be in danger.” His voice dropped. “I don’t know who’s operating the people on the jet bridge.”
The small hairs along my arms rose.
“Are you telling me they aren’t yours?”
“I’m telling you not to assume they are.”
The flight attendant had gone very still. The captain’s hand was braced against the galley counter.
Jake looked at them. “We need everyone away from the windows.”
The captain hesitated. “We were told to keep Mr. Mercer aboard.”
“By whom?”
The captain didn’t answer.
Jake turned back to me. “You can argue with me later.”
“I’ll try to schedule it.”
His mouth moved, almost a smile. Almost. “That’s the spirit.”
A sharp metallic snap came from somewhere behind us.
The cabin lights went out.
A woman’s breath caught in the dark. The emergency strips glowed dim green along the floor, outlining the seats and the aisle. I heard the cockpit door open, then the captain’s voice, low and urgent.
“Stay where you are.”
A second snap rang out from the rear.
Jake caught my sleeve. “Move.”
“Where?”
“Forward. Keep low.”
The flight attendant crouched beside the galley wall. The captain pulled her down with him as Jake and I pushed toward the front. My leg protested with every third step, a hard bolt of pain that reached my hip.
Behind us came the sound of metal tearing.
I turned.
A figure stood in the rear galley doorway, face hidden beneath a dark mask. The person held something in one hand that caught the green emergency light. The cut service-door seal hung loose beside them.
The flight attendant made a small, frightened sound.
The masked figure stepped into the cabin.
Jake shoved me behind the forward seats. “Don’t stop.”
I glanced toward the cockpit. “They’re behind us.”
“I know.”
The figure moved down the aisle, fast and silent. The emergency lighting threw its shadow across the seatbacks, long enough to reach us before it did.
Jake reached the nearest overhead panel and yanked it open. “Help me.”
“What are you doing?”
“Making another door.”
He worked at the latch of the overwing emergency exit. A warning placard and the handle emerged under his hands. I looked from him to the masked figure, still advancing.
“Jake—”
“Now, Dan.”
I grabbed the handle and pulled. The exit gave with a deep clunk. Cold night air swept into the cabin, carrying the smell of jet fuel and wet pavement. Beyond the opening, a narrow wing gleamed under the apron lights.
The aircraft tilted under the sudden pressure change. Somewhere overhead, an alarm began to wail.
“Go,” Jake said.
My left leg caught on the seat frame. Pain flashed white, and for one useless second I couldn’t move. Jake hooked an arm around my chest and hauled me toward the opening.
The masked figure broke into a run.
I twisted to look back. The flight attendant was still crouched in the galley. The captain stood in front of her, hands raised, putting himself between her and the intruder.
That was enough.
I shoved through the exit. The wing was slick beneath my boots, and the air hit my face so cold it seemed to burn. Jake climbed out behind me, one hand gripping my jacket as he guided me toward the edge.
A shout rose from the jet bridge. Then another.
I didn’t know which side it came from.
May you like
The intruder reached my row. Their masked face turned toward the empty seat, then toward the open exit.
Jake pulled me down off the wing and into the dark.
