She heard the hatch slam. The craft wobbled again. A moment later, the engines whined to life, sending a vibration through the craft. Avy took hold of the grasp rails, planting her feet. She could feel the plane rolling out of the hangar onto the taxiway. The pilot’s voice told the passengers to buckle up. There came a jolt, then the sensation of moving again. After a number of tight turns, the craft stopped for a brief moment. Then the engines throttled forward until they howled. Perceptible thumps vibrated under her feet. Certain they were runway seams, she held on tight for takeoff. The next sensation she had was the g-force acting upon her body. They were airborne.
She waited ten minutes before it seemed they had leveled off. Cracking the door open, she chanced a look down the asile. There were three elders seated on the right side of the passenger cabin. The aisle was clear. The pilot sat in the left cockpit seat, wearing headphones. A large cooler was strapped on the other seat.
“I hope you made the reservations,” said Drake’s father.
“We’re booked at the Fairmont Southampton. I told you that twenty minutes ago. Are you going to ask me in another ten minutes?”
“I’ll think of a new question, then ask you in five.”
“You’re impossible, you know that? Did you take your Dramamine?”
“I thought you packed it.”
“I don’t take it or need it. That is your responsibility.”
“Please take a nap,” he said in a tired voice. “By the time you wake up, we’ll be there.”
“I’m too excited to take a nap. I’d rather watch the scenery.”
“There will be nothing out there but blue water.”
“All right then, I’ll take a nap.”
Five minutes later, Avy heard the first snore. After fifteen minutes, all three adults were slumped in their seats, expelling heavy breaths. The pilot had a navigational chart up against his face. Was now the time to confront the pilot? The problem was, he hadn’t done anything yet. She could approach him in an accusatory fashion with the claim that she had enough information to know that this flight was highly suspect. But she had nothing more than that. But if she waited for the scenario to unfold, it could allow things to snowball into disaster fast, putting all onboard at risk.
Before she had the chance to act, one of the passengers stirred, letting loose a loud sneeze. The woman unbuckled her seatbelt then struggled to push herself up from her seat.
Avy pulled the door shut. She could not latch it—that would arouse suspicion. She prepared herself. It would take precise timing to pull off the maneuver. She waited, watching the door latch for any sign of movement. When the lever turned, just when the door began to swing open, she stepped to the other side.
She now stood on the other side of the lavatory door against the bulkhead. The woman had just locked the closed door. The door handle did not move for five minutes before Avy heard the audible click. The seam opened in a torturous slow motion. At that precise moment, she stepped through to the other side and turned around. The door clicked shut. Once again, luck had been with her. So far, the Gate-Walking had been confined to the inside of the aircraft. She shuddered to think what might have happened if she had extended her travel too far. Would she have ended up outside the plane sharing airspace with the seagulls?
The sound of the jet engines began to decrease in intensity, creating a whistling sound through the cabin walls. The plane was slowing.
Avy looked around the edge of the door again. The old woman had resumed her seat. A moment later, her head lolled to the side. It seemed all of the passengers were now asleep, at least it looked that way. But a view of the cockpit showed the pilot standing. He was out of his seat, fumbling with the lid on the ice chest. She watched him, more than curious about his intentions. A glance at her watch revealed they had been airborne for twenty-five minutes.
What she saw next made her stiffen with fright.
The pilot pulled a large pack from inside the ice chest and began to unsnap buckles. He stepped through some straps, pulled a harness over his shoulders, and then cinched up a waist belt. Next, he bent over the console to twist a dial. The attitude of the plane did not change. Automatic pilot? Was the pilot going to bail out over the Atlantic Ocean? Was the plan to allow the craft to fly on until it surpassed its fuel limit then plunge, taking the grandparents with it?
She’d seen enough.
The pilot made a few quick adjustments on the parachute pack, then stepped from the cockpit into the aisle. Avy made quick strides down the aisle to stand in front of the exit hatch. When the pilot saw her, his face blanched white. A second later, he was all attitude.
“What in the flyin’ fuck,” he growled, “are you doing on this plane?”
“Step back into that cockpit and take that parachute off,” she said through her teeth. She wiggled her ID tag for emphasis. “You’re violating FAA regulations by contemplating leaving this aircraft in mid-flight. I know who you are, Buck. Your little plan isn’t going to work like you thought.”
He hesitated for a moment, looked at the hatch, then back at her. “I don’t think you have what it takes to stop me.”
He made a desperate lunge for her, but with the added weight of the pack, and in the confined area, she performed an easy sidestep around him. When he recovered, his eyes narrowed on her like a wolf’s. She knew she’d pissed him off good by out-maneuvering him.
The grandparents snored on, having not heard the exchange of words or the commotion.
She reached around her and brought out the thirty-eight, pointing it at his chest. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to stop you with. Keep your voice down.”
“Go ahead, shoot. This is a pressurized cabin. You’ll blow us out of the sky. Even if you manage to stop me, who is going to fly this rig?”
“I think the bullet has just enough velocity to go through your chest and end up in that parachute pack.” Then came the big lie. “I am also a licensed pilot. Bring it on.” She brought the muzzle of the pistol up against his neck, shoving hard.
Buck stood there for a moment, tiny beads of sweat popping from his forehead. It was a fast moment—he had no options.
His face sagged. He turned around to waddle toward the cockpit. She followed close behind with the gun held at the back of his head.
“Are you the stewardess?” said a voice from behind her. “Where have you been, dear?”
Avy glanced back toward the cabin, aware that one of the grandparents had awakened. Now that she could connect the voice to the face, she knew it was her grandmother, Emily Chambers. But the woman did not recognize her own granddaughter. “Yes, we’ll be serving refreshments in a few minutes,” said Avy over her shoulder while concealing the gun. “Try to relax.” Then to the pilot, “Take that pack off and get back behind the controls. Keep your mouth shut. I don’t want the passengers to panic.”
The pilot obliged, stuffing the parachute pack back into the ice chest. Avy pulled the privacy curtain closed, then shoved the ice chest to the rear of the cockpit. She stood next to the copilot’s seat waiting for him to resume control of the plane. He did not move. She could see the slightest tensing in his legs muscles, a perceptible shift in his body weight. Though he wasn’t looking straight at her, he had her in his peripheral vision. If she were not so apt at reading body language, she would have never seen it coming.
His arm swung around in an arc in what almost looked like slow motion. It just appeared that way because she was faster, anticipating the move. She swung her gun hand around in a right hook, catching him on the side of the temple. She ducked before his arm made contact with her face. He staggered once, then dropped to a knee behind the pilot’s seat. He remained there for a long time, his breaths coming with shuddering gasps.
At first, she thought she might have incapacitated him, or knocked him unconscious. She remained drawn back against the cockpit wall, poised in case he had it in him to try it again. The gash in the side of his head, along with the trickle of blood that reached his
chin, appeared proof enough that he might be finished with any further resistance.
“Where in the hell did you get reflexes like that?” he slurred, reaching for the seat's back to pull himself up. He regained his stance in painful increments.
“You don’t even want to know.” She shook out a hanky, then threw it at him. “You’re bleeding.”
“Thanks to you.” He dabbed the wound, looking feverish, unsteady on his feet. “Now what?”
“Turn this plane around. Get back on a course to Raleigh.” She sat down and buckled in.
He disengaged the autopilot, took the controls. “ATC is gonna want to know why I’m returning,” he said, massaging the back of his neck. His eyes closed in apparent pain for a few seconds.
“Tell them that replacement pump has a fuel leak. Don’t declare an emergency. Ask them for a priority landing.”
“How’d you know about a new pump?”
“It was part of the investigation. Do what I say.”
The plane made a gentle banking turn to the left. Avy watched the compass to make certain it registered a one hundred-eighty degree turn. The plane leveled out. They were now headed back to the coast. Avy kept silent but continued to watch the pilot’s every move. He might have been sure fire cocky when he boarded the plane, but now he looked to be a nervous wreck, in need of a stiff drink. He watched her from the corner of his eye while he made the radio call. She felt a moment of triumph, knowing that her plan was working.
“This wasn’t my idea,” Buck said under his breath. “I was following orders.”
“Yeah, your orders amounted to murdering three people. You would have never gotten away with it.”
“I would have if you hadn’t shown up.”
“You think so? Any man who could order the death of his own parents could keep you from surfacing again. You think you were supposed to be picked up by prearrangement below? What do you want to bet that nobody showed up with that rescue craft? You were the next thing that was going to disappear, but you were too dumb to realize it. Now you can look forward to a life in prison.”
Buck made a moaning sound. He spoke through tight lips. “I’ve got a wife and kids.”
“You should have thought about that earlier. Listen up; I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll forget this ever happened, but the whole incident rests on one very big condition.”
He put a palm to his head wound, grimacing. “What kind of condition are we talking about?”
“The condition that you stay in Cyberflow’s employee pool and keep your local residence. You’ll agree to testify against Drake Labrador when you’re called upon to do so. You’ll promise me that you will not involve yourself in any other activity that would bring injury or death to another person. When we land, you’ll tell your passengers that this flight has been canceled due to safety reasons. You will also tell those passengers to never use a Cyberflow aircraft again because of those reasons. Finally, you’ll tell the engineer that in your opinion this craft’s maintenance records should be gone over with a fine-tooth-comb until it proves airworthy. Have I left anything out?”
“I guess that about covers it for you. What if I don’t agree with those terms?”
She couldn’t show one ounce of weakness with this thug. She had to keep up the act—dig deep for the Betty Davis attitude. “Then I’ll testify against you for attempted murder. It’ll be my word against yours.” She wiggled her ID clip again. “Who do you think they’ll believe? A flyboy, or a federal officer with a spotless record?”
She could almost see the thoughts in his head bitch-slapping each other. His hands tightened on the control yoke, his forearm muscles bunched up in knots. She gave her seatbelt an extra pull, cinching it tighter.
This time her voice lowered with a dangerous tone. She cocked the hammer on the revolver. “I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through your head if you even blink wrong. Whatever you’re thinking about doing with this plane, don’t try it. We’re all going to get down in one piece. So, do the right thing.”
His chest deflated. He looked whipped, resigned to her demands. “Then I guess I’ll have to agree to those terms. I’ll make myself available when the time comes. Just don’t turn me over to the authorities. I’ll do what you say.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about from me.” Avy looked out the windscreen, the coastline loomed like a big brown welcome mat.
They got priority clearance, landed, and taxied back to the hangar. When Avy walked down the aisle to leave, Emily Chambers demanded to know why they hadn’t been served the pastries, and why this airport looked so much like the one they had left. Still, not a hint of recognition in her eyes for her granddaughter.
“We’ve had some in-flight difficulties,” said Avy. “Your pilot will brief you about the problems.” It was hard to keep the resentment down when looking at her grandmother face-to-face. The grandmother who had abandoned her own daughter, then refused to adopt her child. Good riddance.
Avy disembarked amongst curses of dismay coming from the grandparents, who were now awake. She pressed through a small group of technicians who had been alerted to the cancellation of the flight. One of the technicians asked her to explain what happened. She ignored him, hurrying her pace. Sebastian met her at the Cushman cart. They jumped in the cart and sped off. Sebastian pulled the cart out of the hangar and drove back through the airport. They arrived at the information desk where the clerk tried to engage them in conversation about an administrator needing to talk to them, but they left the premises without explanation.
They were well on the road when Avy told of the incident onboard the plane. She explained the conditions she had arranged with the pilot. After a moment, Sebastian spoke his mind.
“Jesus. You got lucky, Avy.” He blew a nervous sigh. “Drake is the author of misery, that’s for sure. He’s got to bump off his own relatives to get his company back in solvency. If that isn’t bad enough, he’s the one who murdered his brother, then set your mother up to take the fall. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to either of us if he finds out how deep we are into this. If this pilot tips him off instead of keeping his mouth shut, it’s sure to go bad on us. I don’t think we’re safe in this city anymore. I’m not talking about me, either. We need to get you out of here.”
“I’m not leaving. I don’t care if he has an army behind him. We can always get Chubby. He’s not such a bad sort. He’s had a lot of experience around rough types.”
“They’re going to come looking for us. We’re not invisible. You’re the exception to that rule, but even that’s temporary.”
He gave her a comforting thigh pat. She knew he wasn’t thinking of himself. They were trying to stop one man’s insane need to devastate the lives of others. Drake was a person who had no compunction about killing anyone who got in his way or hampered his business plans. He had an entire corporation behind him. He also had the support of the community leaders, since he employed hundreds of local residents. Even though the lines of battle had been drawn against Drake, it seemed they would have to go through an empire to get at him.
It wasn’t long ago that Avy had nothing to worry about other than keeping her grades up, practicing her acting talent in front of a full-length mirror, or helping her mother around the house. She'd discovered that she was not normal, in any sense of the word. She was a teenage girl who had gone through an emotional and physical change—a complete overhaul of life. She'd never asked for it. In fact, she resented it. She was on someone else’s path with no way to stop it. If she couldn’t understand herself now, would she hate herself even more after becoming some kind of perverse monster? The inner voice screamed at her, nagging, harassing. She wanted to scream at it to shut up.
Sebastian turned the wheel to pull into the back theater lot. He glanced at her. “You don’t look so good. You okay?”
Her previous thoughts had nothing to do with what ailed her now. She gaped in astonishment, pointing a finger at the theater building when they pull
ed up to it and parked. Sebastian got out, his face taut, full of horror.
The back wall of the theater had been splattered with paint from the ground up. Obscene words, gang logos, and graffiti marred its surface. The gruesome artwork ran in a swath along the beige cinderblock wall, seeming to disappear around the corner.
When they walked up closer to inspect it, Avy could smell the paint fumes lingering heavy in the air. Transfixed, they walked down one of the alleys to find that the side wall had not escaped the macabre renderings. But it was the window glass and admission booth on front of the building facing the street that held the most shock for them. It had been a wild, swift attack. The artists had been more graphic on the theater front, painting outlines of copulating couples, oversized genitals, mixed with other unsavory depictions. It was the worst case of artistic thuggery Avy had ever seen attached to a place of business. The word “ungodly” came to mind while she gazed upon it. Evidence of the vandals came in the form of dozens of paint smudged footprints that led off down the sidewalk. The second thing that assaulted Avy was Sebastian’s reaction to the scene.
He looked ready to hurl.
Chapter 15
They spent Wednesday renting the professional spray unit, buying supplies, mixing paint, and masking off the building. Sebastian had received a quote from a contractor who wanted no less than fourteen thousand dollars to paint the old theater. That was the lowest estimate. Sebastian decided to save the expense by doing it himself. They took paint chips to the hardware store to have the original color matched. They bought a twelve-foot aluminum ladder—it was just high enough to paint the damaged areas from the ground up. The hardest task was the time spent on the front of the theater, masking the trim, then shaving the paint from the display windows with razor scrapers. Turpentine had to be used to remove the prints from the sidewalk.
The War Gate Page 17