The Ninth Day (25 page)

Vanderlock shook his head. “There’s nothing slow about dying in a matter of days, but I see your point. What kind of equipment do you need?”

Emma sighed. “I wish I knew. I would love access to the Internet in order to search reports of any diseases like this one. La Valle has refused. He’s afraid I’ll send an e-mail asking for help.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

Emma reached behind Vanderlock and flipped open a small cooler nestled against the back of his seat. She found cans of soda and a bottle of whiskey. She removed a soda and popped it open.

“Of course I would. As long as it wouldn’t mean the death of a hostage. I’d tell you right now to fly to Chicago and I’d go straight to the FBI if I could. But I can’t. La Valle’s men are threatening to kill two people if I get out of line.”

“They’ll not only kill them, they’ll do it slowly and horribly. Don’t get out of line until you’re sure what you attempt will work,” Vanderlock said. He sat up, all his attention focused on the screen in front of him. “Who the hell is that?”

Emma looked around. “Who?”

“The guy coming straight at us.” Vanderlock turned the plane to the left, and Emma saw another aircraft, this one sleek and newer-looking, coming at them head-on.

Chapter 31

V
anderlock put on a headset. Emma watched his expression change as he listened.

“Damn!” he said. “It’s the Air Tunnel guys. Why the hell don’t they just give up already?”

Vanderlock listened a moment, then snorted in disbelief. “Guy’s hailing me. He’s telling me to follow him and he’ll direct me to a runway where I can land. Presumably to be taken into custody. He’s crazy if he thinks I’ll just fly into the net. Hold on.”

The entire plane banked far left, and Emma slid sideways, stopping only when the seat belt held her in place. Now the sky tilted in front of her, and she felt her stomach starting to rebel at the severe angle at which they flew. Vanderlock corrected and turned to the right, seesawing the plane. Emma’s stomach barely had time to register this new angle, when Vanderlock repeated the maneuver. Emma watched as the tracking plane kept with them easily. She heard a bang from the rear and glanced back.

“The shipment is shifting. Do you have any gloves or a towel? Anything to cover my hands? I’ll need to secure it again. The last thing we want is one of them to break free and open up,” Emma said.

Vanderlock jerked his chin to the left. “Look in that toolbox. The one strapped against the wall. Damn, this guy can fly.”

Emma unhooked her seat belt and rose up. Vanderlock jerked the controls and the plane banked once again. She lost her balance and fell against him. He didn’t react, continuing his laser focus on the task in front of him.

“Sorry, let me get out of your way before you do that again.” She made it to the toolbox and opened it. Two rifles and several boxes of ammunition filled the narrow steel case. On top of all the armament was a pair of work gloves. Emma put them on. They were far too large for her, but they covered her hands to the wrist, which was all she cared about. She worked her way to the rear of the jet, grasping whatever she could in order to steady herself. Vanderlock continued to rock the plane from side to side, which caused several of the shipment bricks to become dislodged from the bungee cords that had been used to secure them. The plane suddenly nosedived, and Emma fell forward. She grabbed on to one of the lines to keep on her feet. One of the bricks skittered across the floor, heading straight for her. She lifted a foot off the ground to allow it to slide past. Once the plane righted again, she bent over and grabbed the brick before it could travel all the way to Vanderlock. She held it far in front of her as she made her way to the rear of the plane. Once she reached the stack of bricks, she applied herself to securing them once again.

“Hey Caldridge, this guy just said if I don’t land immediately he’s authorized to open fire on me.” Vanderlock’s voice held a mix of incredulity and anger. “Who does this guy think he is? He can’t just blow me out of the air. This is America. I’ve got rights!”

Emma snorted. “You’re South African, for God’s sake. You don’t have any rights in America. If the guy says he can fire on you, then he can. Listen, I know someone who works for the ATD, and I’m pretty sure they can fire on any suspicious aircraft arriving over international waters. Perhaps they can do the same domestically. I don’t think you should assume he’s lying.” Emma began making her way back to the copilot seat. The plane bucked and banked. She slammed against the side wall, then tumbled forward when Vanderlock pointed the nose of the plane into another deep dive. She grabbed at some cage netting strapped to the side wall and swung around and hit the wall with her shoulder. When the plane righted, she made a lunge for the copilot seat and sat down, snapping the seat belt closed. “Tell him you’ll land.”

Vanderlock shook his head. “No way. I’m going to outmaneuver him and get back under radar.”

“Forget it! Tell him you’ll land, before he starts shooting at us.” A roar came from Emma’s right, and she flinched when the pursuing airplane passed too close to them. She caught a glimpse of the plane through the windshield, and then he was in front of them. He pulled up, and Emma watched the plane track higher, gaining altitude. It left her field of vision.

“I land and La Valle kills your hostages first, then me, then you. You think of that?”

“You don’t land and that pilot will shoot us down. Either way we die.” Even as she said this she felt her stomach tighten. Vanderlock was right. Landing would get them all killed. She wished she had enough expertise to tell if Vanderlock was good enough to outmaneuver the ATD pilot. Emma craned her neck to look in all directions out the window, but all she could see was empty blue sky. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s going to come down on us from above. Probably makes us an easier target to shoot,” Vanderlock said. His voice was calm, as if he were discussing a particularly boring subject.

Emma could feel her jaw clench. The combination of the bouncing plane and the stress of knowing that at any minute they might be fired upon was making her stomach turn sour.

“Is the plane outfitted with guns? How will he shoot us?” Emma said.

“He’s got a gun mount,” Vanderlock said. He nosedived again. Emma braced her hands in front of her, doing her best not to inadvertently hit any controls. The plane appeared again. This time it seemed to drop down from the sky, like a spider lowering itself on a web, and it was flying straight at them. Emma closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of the guns to start. Vanderlock banked hard, left, and the aircraft passed below them.

Emma opened her eyes. She glanced at Vanderlock. His attention was focused on the controls in front of him. He checked the window, dashboard, and maneuvered the plane with a calm professionalism.

“Someone’s hailing me on a second frequency,” Vanderlock said.

“More law enforcement?” Emma asked.

“Maybe. The ATD guys are chattering on a different channel. They’re telling the pilot to begin his final hail.”

Emma felt her face go cold and her hands become clammy. She heard the other plane’s engines roaring as he tracked with them, somewhere off to the right.

“Does he have to get close to shoot us?”

Vanderlock shook his head. “That’s the easiest part of his day. He just needs to lock on.”

“If there’s any chance of shaking him, then we should take it. Buy ourselves a little more time. Can you outmaneuver him? Because if not, you
are
landing.”

“He’s good. Really good. Assuming we continue this way, we could be at a standoff. In that case, the guy with the most fuel wins.”

Emma glanced at the fuel gauge. “How much?”

Vanderlock banked again, before climbing upward. Emma lost sight of the ATD aircraft, but she assumed it was somewhere behind or above them. Not seeing it was the worst. She hated to think she’d never see the weapon that blew her apart.

“I’m going to fly low. I mean really low. I want him to worry about hitting civilians if he shoots.”

Emma glanced at the ground below them. From their current altitude it appeared to be just an expanse of light and dark green in a patchwork pattern. Vanderlock began his dive, and Emma watched as objects on the ground grew more distinct by the moment. Her ears started to react to the pressure, then popped, and filled again.

She heard a creaking sound, then a snap. Thudding noises came from the back of the plane. A brick hit the cooler strapped behind Vanderlock, followed by another, and then another. Emma scrambled back into the gloves as the bricks shifted and slammed into each other.

“One of the bungee cords snapped.”

Four more bricks hit the cooler, peppering the backs of their chairs. Bits of leaves flew out of the containers and Emma could see dust motes floating in the air. She wished she had a face mask to cover her nose. She stood for a moment to breathe the air above the cloud of dust, but what she saw through the windshield made her gasp, and she felt the particles enter her lungs.

The aircraft was pointed straight at the ground, which was rapidly looming larger. She forgot about the bricks, forgot about the shipment, forgot everything as she watched the ground approach. She flashed on the airplane landing in the Colombian jungle. Memories of the screams of the passengers filled her head and she felt her own fear clog her throat. Vanderlock kept his eyes pinned to the controls, his concentration complete, and oblivious to Emma’s rising distress.

They were over a wide prairie dotted with trees on the edges of cultivated fields planted with corn. When they were so low that Emma thought they’d hit the tops of the tallest trees in a stand, Vanderlock leveled off. Now the area around them was easy to see. Field after field passed under them. The other plane flew alongside on Emma’s side.

“Here’s the third hail.”

Emma sat back down and grasped the armrests, gripping them tightly. Vanderlock listened to the transmission.

“We’re coming up on a farmhouse, so I think you’d better shoot at your own risk, guy. Is it really worth killing people just to stop some weed from entering the country?” Vanderlock sounded determined and cool. Emma heard bits of noise coming from Vanderlock’s headset in response, but she couldn’t make out the words. “I know that runway. I’m going to fly right over it in minutes. I am
not
landing.”

Emma strained to see in front of them. Sure enough, a long passage, banded on each side with stalks of corn, appeared carved into the field. The ATD plane pulled even closer.

Vanderlock flipped a switch. “Now I got some other guy hailing me.” He listened some more. “You again? I told you, I’m not landing! Why did we have to switch frequencies to have the exact same conversation? And you should know that I have a passenger named Emma Caldridge. You shoot me, you kill her, too.” Vanderlock listened some more. “What about her?” he said. More noise flowed from the headset in response. Vanderlock turned to her, and waved at a headset placed in front of the copilot position. “This guy claims to know you. Put that headset on.” He barked a laugh. “Oh yeah, this guy definitely knows you. Repeat that so she can hear it,” he said into the microphone.

Emma felt hope rise in her. “Is it Banner?” She clapped the earpieces on in time to hear Sumner say:

“Tell Caldridge I’m going to strangle her when I get my hands on her.”

Chapter 32

E
mma watched the plane shoot straight upward. Vanderlock, though, was cruising even lower. Her headset was silent. Sumner had switched off.

“He’s taking off,” Vanderlock said. “He told me to land and leave it there. Said it will take the ATD a few hours to get to the location. The implication being that I have time to get away. Do I trust him?”

Emma nodded. “He means what he says.”

“Then we’re landing.”

Vanderlock slowed the plane and touched it down on the runway. They careened ahead, still way too fast. Screeching wheels and creaking plane parts echoed in the cabin. They reached the end of the runway and continued a bit, knocking through some cornstalks before coming to rest. Vanderlock switched off the engines.

Emma was breathing fast, as if she’d been running a marathon rather than sitting in a chair. Vanderlock fiddled with switches and turned knobs. When he was finished, he reached back toward the cooler. He picked up a brick with his bare hands and tossed it into the hold.

“I told you not to touch it!” Emma said. Vanderlock waved her off.

“Bricks broke open. We’re breathing it, so it’s done.”

He was right. The shipment bricks had all shifted, and the ones closest to Emma and Vanderlock broke open and leaves covered the bottom of the jet around their seats. Vanderlock brushed some off the top of the cooler before opening it and removing the whiskey bottle. He uncapped it, took a swig, and handed it to her. She grabbed it without hesitation and swallowed a mouthful. It burned and she coughed once. She handed it back.

“Wanna tell me about flyboy?” Vanderlock said.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t, actually.”

Vanderlock raised an eyebrow. “He sure was more than willing to kill me until he learned about you.” Emma got up and swayed a bit as the blood moved very slowly to her head.