“Jennifer Ratcliff too, I should imagine,” Ryan said, trying to sound aloof. The truth was he’d been speaking with the woman earlier that morning.
“She’s distancing herself from Dominic,” stated Emily, almost in the CEO’s defence. It was an expected move.
“As we are too,” surmised Ryan with a knowing smile. After a long pause, he added, almost like it was a confession: “I spoke with her soon after I learnt that Dominic had disappeared with the kids. She denied having any knowledge... but if that was the case, why was only Alby disposed of? Dominic took with him three other men, all of them Kaplan Ratcliff had supplied us in our joint task force. She assured me − to my face − she had no idea... a yarn she continues to maintain. But it just seems too... elaborate; too obvious. Kaplan Ratcliff has the resources and the finance to pull off such a vanishing act. But... it’s going to be difficult exposing her without making ourselves look complicit.”
“We are complicit,” Emily replied. A look of fear flashed on Ryan’s face which Emily didn’t notice, then it was gone as he realised that her comment didn’t infer anything. “It certainly is a bit of a pickle,” she added. It sounded lame and childlike.
“Hmmm,” murmured Ryan, becoming momentarily contemplative. Absently, he turned away to look out through the window behind him. London and the River Thames met his gaze marred by another wet, dismal day.
Emily could tell that something was on the man’s mind. Whilst he was distracted she discretely, and quietly, leant forward and almost absently touched the underside of Ryan’s desk, running her hand along the edge beneath it − as though probing for something. She withdrew her hand swiftly as Ryan rotated back to facing her.
“I spoke to Sophie,” Emily piped up, changing the subject and disguising any anxiety. It was also meant as misdirection in case he had spotted anything unusual in the way she had been acting.
Ryan’s demeanour softened. “I did wonder...”
“I gave her the location of her father’s locker. She’s on her way to Fresno as we speak.”
“Fresno... at least she’s getting to travel a bit,” he said lightly. “Is she... okay? About her father, I mean?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess.” She blames you, Ryan, for killing her father, Emily thought to herself. “She didn’t say much on it,” she lied, not wanting to repeat Sophie’s accusations.
“Oh, okay.” Ryan shook his head in remorse. “I do feel somewhat responsible,” he said in pity. “I should’ve let her rescue her father before the GYGES mission. In retrospect, might’ve worked out for the better had we have gone with her wishes.” He went quiet, his mood noticeably downbeat.
And Sophie wouldn’t now want to kill you, the voice in her head countered. After a moment of uncomfortable silence she stood up to go. “I’ll let you know when I have any news regarding Sophie,” she said. “Is there anything else you’d have me do?”
“Ah, no. No, just keep me posted, is all,” Ryan murmured, sounding preoccupied.
Emily closed the door behind her leaving Ryan to what she assumed was his wishful thinking.
“I told you your pilot would be okay.”
Ryan was staring out of the large toughened-glass window behind his desk, looking across towards a river cruise boat drifting along on the Thames, tourists in raincoats or holding umbrellas, sat about the upper deck flashing cameras despite the persistent drizzle of rain marring the tour.
“If unconscious and beaten black-and-blue is ‘okay’, yeah...” he replied sarcastically. “You said you wouldn’t call. Damn it, Jennifer... it’s too dangerous... I can’t get involved!”
“YOU ARE INVOLVED. Anyway, your MI6 phone lines are secure,” she said. “Just thought I’d let you know; the boys are settling in.”
“I don’t want to know. If anyone finds out...”
“They won’t. Not from me... no one should suspect.”
“The CIA might.”
“CIA?”
“The Prime Minister has agreed to welcome our American counterparts to work with us to hunt Dominic. They’re a little peeved by the attack on Area 51 and have named him as Enemy Number One… and Sophie as an accomplice. They’ve probably had a pack of cards printed with their images...”
“You’d better make sure they do not succeed in finding him... for your and Emily’s sake. If we go down, I’m taking you there with me.”
“Is that a threat? Listen... we’re in this together. I gave you what you wanted, and we have an agreement. It’s for the best for our futures. Now leave me and my family out of it. Or else!”
“Family? Huh, and else what, Ryan? Now who’s making the threats?” she started to chuckle. “Just keep to your word, we’re a partnership, and we’ll be fine.”
“And you remember your promise. Just don’t call again.”
“No promises. Don’t forget who you are dealing with Ryan. Say hi to Emily for me...”
Before Ryan was able to respond further, the line went dead leaving him with his phone pressed tightly against his ear. Maintaining that position for longer than necessary, he once again started pondering over things, more specifically he questioned his most recent decision making.
He was wondering: What am I getting myself into?
Chapter Fifteen
Sophie
“Ladies and gentlemen... we are shortly to arrive at Fresno Yosemite Airport... Please can I ask that you secure your seatbelts ready for our descent...?” The seatbelt sign above the seats throughout the cabin lit up alongside the permanently illuminated ‘no smoking’ sign. “We have been advised that there is a build-up of air traffic waiting clearance to land and that we are in a queue. Do not be alarmed, but we will be hanging in the air for a little bit until our turn arrives... this won’t be too long and is quite normal. On behalf of United Airlines, I’d like to thank you for travelling with us today...” The pilot of the Boeing 737 continued with a standard platitude but Sophie was no longer listening. Almost of its own volition, her left hand reached for Barry seated next to her, and grasped his knee. She squeezed it hard as she peered out of the window; she was surveying the skies around her and then peering downwards towards the earth below. She couldn’t see any other aeroplanes in the sky, and owing to the Boeing’s height all she could see of the ground was unassuming; swathes of green, dusty-brown lines that were roads and masses of grey squares and rectangles which she figured were buildings belonging to housing and industrial estates. Dots of traffic could be seen moving about in lines like a flurry of worker ants, their backs glistening under the sun’s rays.
Barry turned his head towards Sophie. She was still gazing out through the Plexiglas window. “What’s wrong?”
Sophie didn’t immediately respond, her attention now focusing on something in the distance. She could just make out the airport which was coming into view. “Something doesn’t feel right,” she said anxiously.
An air hostess stopped next to the empty seat beside Barry and leaned over. “Ma’am... please fasten your seatbelt.” She wore a winsome smile that Barry barely noticed beneath the thick glaze of crimson that plastered her lips.
Sophie pulled her attention away from the scene outside and fumbled the belt at her waist into the metal clasp, pulling it tight.
“Thank you,” said the air hostess as she walked away, inspecting other passengers as she glided down the aisle towards the front of the plane.
“What do you mean?” asked Barry, slightly troubled.
“This...” she used a hand to indicate everything, quickly sweeping it about her. “What the pilot said. It doesn’t make sense. If there was a build-up of aircraft waiting to land, you’d expect to see some planes flying around with us... but...” she was peering out of the window again, “... there’s no others up here. None.”
“Oh... you sure?” B
arry stooped down and leaned over Sophie slightly, trying to take a look. It wasn’t easy being strapped in.
“Not only that...” she continued, “I’ve just looked at the airport below us and nothing is landing... or taking off.”
Barry was still trying to see out through the window across Sophie, now stretching his torso as far over as his fastened seatbelt would allow. “I can’t see anything.” He meant that his view was obstructed, rather than being able to confirm what Sophie was intimating.
“Exactly,” replied Sophie, taking his comment as a confirmation of what she had pointed out. She didn’t allow him to correct her. “The pilot is stalling...” she trailed off, deep in thought.
“What? You don’t know that...”
Sophie wasn’t listening to him. Mechanical groans and sounds filled the cabin as the pilot of the craft began the landing procedure. Her head was turning from one side to another in agitation whilst she considered the problem. An instant later and she had made a decision.
“We have to get off this plane... before it lands,” she said quietly, but sternly.
“Uh? How?” Barry didn’t quite understand.
Unperturbed, Sophie continued. “There’s a way... but you’re not going to like it. Hell, I don’t even like it!” Sophie had a crazy, insane look about her.
“Go on,” pressed Barry, knowing to argue with her was pointless. The 737 started to judder from turbulence as the pilot began the plane’s descent.
“The luggage-hold... under the cabin.”
Barry raised an eyebrow.
“We would have an opportunity when the pilot engages the landing gear; there’s a gap where the wheels retract in the fuselage. It’s not big, but we could just squeeze through and make our exit before the plane touches down.”
“That’s mental,” scoffed Barry, laughing.
“I’ve seen it done.”
“You’re serious?”
“Do you have any better ideas?” Sophie asked gravely.
Barry’s eyes twitched as he turned up his nose. “I think you’re being paranoid. We should just sit this out and see what happens.”
“What? And fall into whatever trap they’ve set?” she snorted. A couple of passengers in close proximity glanced their way.
“What about our stuff?” Barry glanced upwards towards the closets above their seats.
Sophie shook her head. It pained her to even consider it. “We’ll have to leave them,” she said regretfully, thinking about her meagre possessions, and specifically what was left of the serum.
Barry sighed, conceding defeat. “Okay... how?”
One or two passengers batted their eyelids, but no one thought anything too untoward as Barry and Sophie unclasped their seatbelts and vacated their seats, hurrying up the aisle towards the front of the plane. By this time the pilot of the Boeing 737 had given orders for the cabin crew to prepare for landing, all of whom were seated and strapped in at the front and rear of the aircraft.
“Sir... Madam! It’s not safe! Please return to your seats at once!” One of the air hostesses admonished. The one with the bright crimson lip gloss had seen them advance from her rear-facing seat and was the first to issue the warning. Another cabin member was sitting facing her, quite plain in appearance with unkempt short black hair and looked equally miffed by Sophie and Barry’s actions.
“Gonna be sick!” complained Barry. He reached to open the toilet door, finding it was locked. As expected, one of the cabin crew had used a key to lock all the toilet doors, which was the procedure shortly before landing. Barry clasped a hand to his mouth and puffed out his cheeks as though fighting the urge to vomit.
“Hold on!” The air hostess facing him unclasped her belt and crossed to a corner cupboard. Hastily, she pulled free a door and reached in. Before she had time to pluck out the sick bag, Sophie had crept up behind her; Barry pulled across the curtain that allowed partial privacy from the cabin and the hundred-plus passengers.
“Li-a-!” The warning was cut short. At the cupboard the air hostess with the crimson lip gloss turned her head sharply to see Barry had subdued her black-haired colleague.
“What’s...?” going on... The question was unfinished as Sophie snaked an arm around the woman’s neck and applied adequate pressure to a place just above her carotid. The woman promptly slipped to the floor.
“You sure we can do this?” Barry asked doubtfully.
“No...” Sophie quickly gazed out of the window. “But there’s no time to debate it.” The aircraft was descending fast and Fresno’s parched land could be seen growing in perspective beneath them. Turbulence caused the plane to rock and judder some more, jostling the pair from side to side. “Come on,” said Sophie. At their feet was the outline of a hatch. “Help me open this.” Two small fold-down handles were tucked into the trapdoor’s smooth flat surface.
Mere seconds later and Barry was following Sophie down a short ladder into the undercarriage of the Boeing. It was dark except for a little light filtering through from where the landing gear was beginning to engage. Noise from the engines and the internal mechanics of the aircraft were amplified down there.
“Come on!” Sophie shouted. They charged down the plane towards the centre where the main landing gear was situated, swaying every-so-often from one side to another, walls of luggage secured by thick netting helping to keep them from falling. Mechanical whirrs and groans increased as the gear lowered into position and slowly revealed a widening slit of daylight. “Here!” Sophie shouted, arriving at one of the breaches.
Through the gap, Sophie and Barry saw the buildings and grassland scurry by in a blur of movement. It took a lot of concentration to keep motion sickness at bay.
The gap around each set of wheels was just wide enough for one person to slip through. Barry positioned himself beside one, Sophie the other.
“I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS!” shouted Barry to be heard. Even with little light Sophie could see that the colour had drained from his face. He looked like he was about to be sick for real.
“TRUST ME! YOU’LL BE FINE!” Sophie looked down as Fresno Yosemite International Airport began below them. They were still between sixty and seventy feet above ground level. “COM’ON! DO EXACTLY WHAT I DO!” Without hesitation she lowered herself onto a section of metal that was hinged and joined just above the set of wheels. Essentially, the side-strut enabled the landing gear to be retracted into the body of the plane acting like an arm; extending when it was deployed, and shortening when it was no longer needed. It was also ideal for Sophie to stand on as the Boeing fast approached the runway for landing.
Wind that felt gale-force tore at her clothes, pulled at her feet and pummelled her face, peeling her lips back to reveal gritted teeth and the dark pinks of her gums; she looked like a whinnying horse. Afraid of slipping, she wrapped her arms around the large shock-strut upon which the wheels were attached and laced her fingers together as tightly as possible.
“Oh God!” she muttered to herself as the ground rapidly reached up to meet them. Suddenly she felt the urge to be sick and no longer brave. She closed her eyes, fearing what might happen were her fingers to lose grip or if her feet were to slip from beneath her. It did little to appease her dread; if anything − aided by the whistling sound of the wind and the thunderous noise of the aircraft − it made things worse.
Nothing however, prepared her for the shock as the wheels of the Boeing 737 hit the ground at 155 knots (or 178 mph). Forcefully, her feet felt kicked-out beneath her. Had her fingers not been laced so tightly together she would have been dragged from the landing gear and dashed against the Tarmac. Instead, Sophie found herself clinging onto the shock-strut for dear life, her body horizontally-suspended like a human flag for what seemed like forever but was merely an eye-blink; one second later the pilot applied the brakes, allowing grav
ity to immediately yank her legs downwards. Her feet flailed uselessly to the side of the shock-strut, and dangerously above the giant rubber tyres that threatened to pull her under. For a heart-stopping second she found her fingers begin to slip, just as her left foot regained purchase on the side-strut, followed by her right. Swiftly she repositioned her hands for greater stability and once safe, allowed a searching glance for her companion, hoping that he had survived her crazy idea.
Sophie was relieved to find Barry was still with her. Clinging to the second shock-strut with both his hands and his inner thighs, his eyes were closed and the telltale signs of motion sickness marring one shoulder of his T-shirt. She was staring at him as he risked opening his eyes. After acknowledging that they were both more-or-less in one piece, Sophie diverted her attention to getting off the plane.
The Boeing was slowing down fast. Ahead, she could make out a convoy of emergency vehicles joining the runway, identifying them by their flashing red and blue beacons, easily seen from her vantage point beneath the aircraft.
Sophie turned back to Barry. “WE JUMP ON THREE!!” Despite shouting, Barry couldn’t hear over the roar of the turbofan engines. With one hand gripped to the shock-strut, the other she used to gesture a dropping sign with her index finger and a count of three by displaying a corresponding number of digits.
The Whisper of Persia (The Girl in the Mirror Book 3) Page 10