Judy straightened up, resentment clashing with caution, and officiousness winning out.
“Doctor Logan. Since you won’t respond to an apology, we have one more item to resolve.”
“We’ve got a lot more than one item to resolve,” he replied, his voice barely audible.
“I’m going to have to ask you to show me the contents of that briefcase.”
He looked down at the briefcase, his face reflecting puzzlement, then looked up at her again. “What?”
“Your briefcase. I need to see what’s inside.”
“Why?”
“Because I have the right to ask, and I’m … concerned, because you keep holding on to it.”
“Go to hell!”
“Sir! I am in charge of this cabin …”
“You touch this briefcase and I’ll break your hand in some very effective places,” Brian said through clenched teeth, snapping off his seat belt. He stood and glared at her as she backed up. Heads were turning all over first class, and she could see Robert MacNaughton looking alarmed in his window seat.
“GET OUT OF MY FACE!” Logan bellowed, causing her to wince involuntarily. At least six other first-class passengers were turning around in their seats to see what the commotion was this time.
Brian was holding the briefcase by its handle. He raised it up now as he snarled at her. “Over my dead body will you or any other employee of this godforsaken excuse of an airline touch this or anything else I own.”
Judy retreated quickly back through the curtains to the galley at the back of the first-class section. She thought she saw Logan sit down again as she fled, but she half expected him to come bursting through the curtains after her. She felt a sudden need to be anywhere but close to first class.
I’ll do a coach walk-through, she decided.
Judy tried to get her hands to stop shaking as she checked herself in the galley mirror. She turned and headed back into coach, still feeling the waves of fury radiating from first class and unprepared to find two of her flight attendants standing wide-eyed in the alcove with Janie Bretsen.
“What is this, a convention?” Judy Jackson snapped. Elle and Cindy moved back in response, looking guilty. Janie, however, stood her ground, speaking in a low voice.
“I saw that gratuitous confrontation,” she began.
“So?” Judy replied, as if it made no difference. She could feel herself flushing all over again.
“Well, if I were really a management flight attendant, I’d fire you on the spot for the most obnoxious display of hostility I’ve ever witnessed in flight, starting with your incredibly stupid announcements and threats, and ending with that completely unnecessary confrontation.”
“You go to hell,” Judy replied, her teeth gritted, not expecting Janie to start nodding.
“That’s roughly what he told you, yes. And if there were something lethal in that briefcase, you just invited him to use it before we can find a way to take it from him. Brilliant!”
Judy started to move past, but Janie stepped in her way, blocking the path to coach. Judy shoved her out of the way, her greater height and weight pushing Janie off balance. Janie exhaled sharply as she fell back against door 2-Left, but Judy didn’t turn around.
There was an even more visceral mood of hostility in coach, and Judy could see it in the eyes of the passengers who watched her coldly as she passed. Not hatred, as when the doctor looked at her, but an underlying discontent wrapped in obvious distrust.
This is all his fault, Judy told herself with the image of a snarling Brian Logan still filling her mind and destabilizing her instincts.
All her girls were retreating from her advance. She could see Elle move through the middle galley and peek out from the other aisle as she walked slowly through, trying to use her practiced flight attendant smile on those who met her eyes, regardless of the upset and fury she saw on their faces.
It was the usual passenger load of widely varying ages and ethnicity, some well dressed, others not, women wearing dresses, women wearing jeans, one woman in a halter top that barely contained her substantial breasts and a pair of shorts that revealed legs marred by varicose veins. A damned bus station in the air. No, worse, she decided. One of the few who had smiled at her in London was avoiding looking at her now: a man in a rumpled business suit with the baldest head she’d ever seen. He was sitting next to a mousy woman in a white sari who was busily knitting at a furious pace. Two wide-eyed little girls were sitting next to them.
Judy spotted the young Asian couple she’d noticed earlier, the woman wide awake, the husband in a deep sleep. She’d noticed how the woman always watched her whenever she walked through the cabin.
She passed the mid-galley and moved into the second section of coach again, feeling the hostility of the stares. It was like a wave of anger pushing her back, and she decided she’d gone far enough.
Something caught her eye to the left, and she turned to see a child carrier hooked on a magazine rack on the bulkhead in front of a young mother’s seat. A small infant was asleep inside as the mother watched sleepily.
“What the heck is this contraption?” Judy asked no one in particular as she leaned down to find out how the child carrier was suspended.
There was movement from the mother, who leaned forward and pointed to the bulkhead. “I found a way to suspend it the way the other airlines do.”
Judy looked at her. Late twenties, two kids, obviously tired, and obviously ignorant of the rules.
“You can’t do this!” Judy pointed to the child carrier. “Take that down, right now.”
Karen Davidson looked puzzled. “One of your flight attendants helped me with it, and I’m not going to use it on takeoff or landing.”
“This is ridiculous,” Judy said, more loudly than she’d planned. Several other passengers were looking in her direction now, wondering what the commotion was about. “Take it down! Otherwise, one bump of turbulence and your child will end up dumped on the floor.”
Karen Davidson took a deep breath and sat up straight. “Excuse me, but have you noticed, perhaps, that we’re in stable flight? There’s no chance this is going to fall off. I’ve got it firmly attached.”
A man in the adjacent aisle seat touched her arm, and Judy jumped.
“What?”
“What are you gonna do? Arrest the baby? Leave the poor woman alone, okay?”
“Are you with her?” Judy asked, gesturing to Karen.
“No, but …”
“Then mind your own business. This is a crew matter.”
The man sat back in angry silence as more heads turned in coach. Judy was aware of the hardening glares and rising indignation. But this was her cabin, dammit, and she wasn’t going to let these people boss her around any more than she would let Janie Bretsen try to tell her what to do.
She turned toward Karen and leaned forward.
“Take … the … carrier … off … the … wall! Understand?”
“No, I do not understand!”
“I’m the authority here!” Judy snapped. “Get that thing off the wall now! How would you like it if I came into your living room and screwed a new drink holder into your coffee table?”
“What?”
“You heard me. This is about as boorish a thing as I’ve seen a passenger do.”
“What, trying to take care of my child? What the heck does that have to do with living rooms and coffee tables?” Karen said, shaking her head.
“Hey, sheriff,” a male voice called out from several rows behind. “All of us are telling you to leave her alone!”
Judy ignored him as she leveled a finger at Karen. “Take it down, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Hey!” Another male voice rang out and Judy glanced across the aisle from Karen to face the glare of a middle-aged man in jeans and a sweater who was sitting next to the woman’s older child.
“What are you, her husband?”
“What the heck difference does that make?” he asked. “T
hat’s a sexist question, but I’m telling you, if I were her husband, I’d probably be at your throat right now. Leave the woman alone. There’s nothing wrong with that child carrier being there. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Regulations are the matter with me,” Judy said, turning back to Karen. “This is your last warning. Get it off of there,” she ordered, balling her left fist and banging it hard against the bulkhead for emphasis as she barked, “NOW!”
At that same instant she felt the bulkhead vibrate violently. The child carrier was coming loose before her eyes, catapulting the baby inside off her tiny mattress. She saw the mother’s eyes widen in the same instant as Karen Davidson lunged forward, her hands barely missing her falling child.
There was a simultaneous blur of motion from the right as the man across the aisle leaped in front of her, his arms outstretched, catching her baby in midair, his body impacting the edge of one of the seats with a dull thud as the empty child carrier clattered to the floor.
Judy felt herself instinctively dropping to one knee to help. She saw people standing all over the cabin and heard seat belts clicking open.
The man who’d caught Karen Davidson’s baby daughter was on his side, the little girl held safely in the air for her mother to take as he turned with a painful grimace and held his chest. The young mother was on her knees as well, holding her daughter and trying to check on her rescuer at the same time. Judy became aware of voices and scuffling feet and movement and shouts and suddenly realized they were all aimed at her.
She knelt down and tried to help. There was motion all around, and Judy looked up to find a sea of angry faces closing in on her. She stood, but they weren’t backing down.
“Get in your seats!” she ordered.
“Screw you!” someone snapped back.
The crowd pressed forward, causing her to retreat instinctively. Judy backed into the alcove between the coach sections and reached for the interphone handset, but there was at least one set of hands trying to grab her, and she kept retreating.
“GET BACK! DON’T YOU TOUCH ME!” she shouted.
“HEY! HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!” a large man in a business suit ordered. There were other shouts as they moved forward, pure rage showing on their faces, and Judy’s instincts suddenly dictated retreat. She turned and broke into a run for the base of the stairway to the upper deck, incredulous that there was a host of running footsteps behind her accompanied by angry shouts to stop.
She shot past a galley, clipping one of her girls in the process, as an angry male voice reached her from behind.
“HEY, BITCH! COME BACK HERE AND FACE US!”
Judy rounded the bottom of the stairs and took them two at a time, turning at the top and racing forward through the upper deck to the cockpit where she yanked up the interphone and jammed her hand into the cipher lock.
“Captain! Let me in!”
She could hear voices and footfalls behind her coming up the stairs.
“What?” Phil’s voice queried on the interphone. She knew the questions he was supposed to ask.
“No one is forcing me, no one is with me. Check your video screen. My hand scan is complete. LET ME IN!”
She heard the door locks coming open and pushed inside, slamming it behind her, taking time to make sure the heavy lock was in place.
“What on earth is going on with you?” Phil Knight asked as she turned around toward him, a wild look in her eyes.
“They’re rioting down there!” she stammered, deciding that this wasn’t the time for full disclosure of the little accident that had sparked the commotion.
“What do you mean, ‘rioting’?” the captain asked, his face draining of color as Garth looked around from the copilot’s seat, equally startled.
“There’s an angry mob that chased me all through the airplane from coach.”
“Chased you? I don’t understand,” Phil said.
She looked at him and shook her head, tears of anger and frustration forming in the corners of her eyes. “Neither do I, Captain … but you’ve got to stop them. They won’t follow any of my commands. They’re literally out of control.”
“What … what are they angry about?”
“About the delays in London, the temperature, the … the thing about turning around in flight. Hell, I don’t know.”
Garth pushed his seat back and started to unsnap his seat belt then stopped, looking at Phil. “If it’s not a takeover attempt, should I take a look?”
“Be careful of those bastards!” Judy snarled, her teeth clenched as she looked at the copilot. “They’re what I have to fly with all the time these days. Animals, bitching about everything. I can’t believe they attacked me.”
“Judy, you didn’t say anything about being attacked,” Garth began.
She looked startled and tossed her head as if dismissing the question. “It was just as good as an attack. Damned jerks chasing me down the aisles!”
Phil looked over at the copilot and said nothing until Garth pointed to the back. Phil nodded and waited until the copilot had cleared the door. He looked at the PA handset then and hesitated. “You … think I need to say something?”
“PLEASE!” Judy replied, anger coloring her voice. “Maybe they’ll listen to a man.”
Phil Knight pulled the handset from its cradle and punched in the digits connecting him to the PA.
This is the captain. If there are any of you who have any doubt that your crew is legally in control, you’d better think again. When one of our flight attendants tells you to do something, that’s the law. Those of you who just chased our lead flight attendant through the airplane … if you don’t sit down immediately I really will have you arrested when we arrive.
He replaced the handset, waiting for fists banging on the cockpit door and wondering what he’d do if it happened, but it was silent on the other side of the door, and the video screen showed no one waiting.
Garth punched up the various cameras, noting the number of people on their feet, talking in groups throughout coach.
“Maybe that did it,” Phil said.
“I see no threatening activity back there,” Garth added. “But if they weren’t already in revolt, your PA should do the trick.”
Phil Knight shot his copilot a withering glance as Judy’s voice broke through the silent exchange.
“That’s it! That’s just tricking it! This stupid airline doesn’t pay me enough to deal with damned riots. I’m staying in here.” Judy replied. “I’m so mad I could spit.”
“Stay, then,” Phil said, his voice flat, his eyes still boring into Garth.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
ABOARD MERIDIAN FLIGHT SIX
5:25 P.M. Local
Robert MacNaughton watched Brian Logan’s reactions carefully after the lead flight attendant retreated from the first-class cabin. He saw the doctor look at his briefcase as if seeing it for the first time, then open and close it several times, finally opening it and moving something around inside before securing it again. Logan placed the briefcase in his lap again, tapping his fingers on its leather surface.
As MacNaughton watched, one by one, three flight attendants came into the cabin briefly, each of them looking specifically at Logan before departing. An off-duty flight attendant who’d introduced herself as Janie Bretsen returned and settled into her first-class window seat again. MacNaughton noticed her casting furtive glances in the doctor’s direction.
So why am I concerned? he asked himself. They’ll reach Cape Town ready to write three hundred furious letters, and at worst, they’ll have to restrain the poor doctor.
Yet, the feeling persisted.
Obviously he’d made a poor decision to take a commercial flight to begin with—a mistake he would not make again, no matter how important the meeting was.
Except for the Concorde. As long as British Air could keep the Concorde flying, he had decided he would be a passenger.
Somewhere behind first class, MacNaughton could hea
r raised voices, and then running footsteps. He turned to his left in time to see Brian Logan leap to his feet and leave his briefcase behind as he rushed out of sight toward the commotion. MacNaughton hesitated, telling himself there was nothing he could contribute, but the pull of raw curiosity was strong enough to get him to his feet. He moved to the rear entrance to first class and watched as Logan moved toward the back.
MacNaughton glanced around casually, noting the physician’s briefcase unattended on his seat. He moved quietly forward as he glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and leaned over, flipping up the two catches on the leather case. He lifted the lid carefully, noting several file folders and what appeared to be a pack of airline tickets in the upper pocket.
The lower section was empty except for a small pewter canister, which he lifted. It was fairly lightweight, and he tried the lid, which came open easily, revealing nothing inside but some sort of gray powder.
Robert MacNaughton reclosed the container and the briefcase and left it in place on the seat, his mind chewing over the question of what he’d just seen.
Judy Jackson had already been fleeing up the staircase to the 747’s upper deck when Brian Logan emerged from the first-class section. There were three men chasing after her, and he now caught the third one by the arm.
“What happened?” Brian asked.
The man inclined his head toward the absent lead flight attendant. “That rancid woman dumped a baby on the floor back there and could have killed it,” he said.
Brian hesitated as the man continued up the stairs, then moved aft to see for himself. He entered the rear of the coach cabin just as someone called for a doctor.
“I’m a doctor,” he said, his eyes falling immediately on a man lying in the floor in obvious pain. Brian dropped to one knee to examine him.
“What happened?”
Voices from over his shoulder answered the question.
“… hurt himself trying to save this woman’s baby from hitting the floor.”
“… think he has a broken rib or two …”
“… hit the bottom of that chair leg, I think.”
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