“John, can you hear me?” Donovan said as he reached over and put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Keith, go back and get help; bring the medical kit.” Keith nodded and raced from the cockpit. “John, we’re back on top of the clouds; we’re in the clear.”
John rolled his head side-to-side. Tears streamed from glazed eyes; they trickled out from under his goggles, his mask was still secured. He made a weak gurgling noise.
Donovan saw John’s right hand; he must have burned it while trying to sweep the flames away. It was bright red, the blisters rising; the cuff of his shirt was black and singed. “Hang in there, John. Help is on the way.”
Audrey was the first onto the flight deck, her hands shot to her mouth. “Oh my God!”
“John’s been burned.” Donovan said.
Audrey leaned over John and quickly tried to inspect his injuries. He pulled away. She turned to Donovan, shaking her head. “It’s not good. We need to get him in back.”
“Coming through,” Rafael announced from the door.
“Give us a second, Rafael. We’re coming back to you,” Audrey called out, then turned to Donovan, her face filled with revulsion at the sight of John’s burns. She pointed to the goggles and oxygen mask. “We might have to cut these off him. The straps look melted to his skin.”
“Do whatever you have to. Just keep him off the controls,” Donovan said, frustrated at not being able to help. He caught partial glimpses of John as Audrey stood over him and studied the best way to remove the partly melted gear. He was moaning into his mask, still conscious. Donovan wondered if it might be a blessing if John were to just black out.
“John. I think I can remove your goggles. Hang on to the seat,” Audrey instructed.
A muffled shriek filled the cockpit. John’s body jerked, then went rigid. Donovan shuddered at the painful cries and looked away.
Audrey dropped the smoke goggles on the floor. The strap had melted; clumps of burnt hair clung to the crinkled elastic.
“Breathe, John. Take deep breaths.” Audrey squeezed his good hand. “It’s not as bad as I thought. We’ll take the mask off in a second.” Audrey said to Donovan. “How do I do this?”
“There are two red tabs underneath his mask. When you squeeze them together, the straps around his head will inflate; then you slide the whole thing up and over. But be careful. If you let go, the straps will contract again.” Donovan could clearly see the hesitation in her eyes; her face had gone white from the strain. “Just do it one quick sweeping motion.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Here it goes.”
Donovan’s muscles tensed as he heard the straps inflate on John’s mask. Without the rubber seal over his mouth, John’s wail of agony, now clearly audible, cut Donovan to the core. John flailed against his harness as he reacted to the blinding pain. The controls bucked momentarily in his hands, but Donovan was able to hold the 737 steady.
“It’s okay John. It’s over.” Audrey held him tightly, her voice wavering. “When you’re ready, we’ll try to get you up. Do you think you can walk?”
John gasped through clenched teeth.
“Keith!” Audrey yelled back to the cabin. “Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. What can I do?”
“There’s not enough room in here for both of us. I’m coming out, then I want you to help John back to the cabin.”
Keith moved into the small space. He took a moment to decide where it would be best to grasp the injured pilot. “This is going to be a little awkward.”
“I’ll lean over to give you more room.” Donovan gave Keith as much space as he could, gripping the controls firmly. “I’m ready when you are.”
Keith put one hand under John’s right arm, then reached out to support his unburned left hand. John groaned as Keith lifted him out of his seat. “I’ve got you.”
John swayed slightly. His face was drawn and colorless. He held his burned arm away from his body. Tears trickled from his bloodshot eyes.
“We’re coming back through,” Keith yelled. “Rafael. Get ready to take him.”
Donovan had to look away. He saw where the material of John’s uniform had burned through, leaving fabric melted onto his skin. The hair on the left side of his scalp was almost completely burned away, except for a dark strip where the elastic from his goggles and mask had been. He had no idea how John could function. It took Keith several careful moments to lower John through the opening to the waiting arms of the others in back.
Alone on the flight deck, Donovan banked the plane to the west and could see the setting sun, the orange colors playing across the tops of the clouds. Far to the south, the same thunderstorms that he had fought so hard to avoid towered brilliantly in the subdued light. The distant lightning flashed white and blue. It was a beautiful sight. He found comfort at witnessing the magnificent vista. He wondered how many vivid sights like this he had witnessed during his career in the sky. Would this be his last?
“Coming up,” a voice called from the door to the cockpit.
Donovan’s peaceful moment vanished at the sound of Audrey’s voice.
Audrey slid into the space between the pilot seats. “Rafael didn’t need me. I thought I’d come and see how you were doing.”
“I’m okay, considering.” Donovan could still taste the bitter smoke in his mouth. “How is everything in the back?”
“We’re all fine.” Audrey wrinkled her nose at the burned smell.
“You can sit right there if you want to.” Donovan knew he wasn’t going to get rid of her anytime soon. She’d figured out his true identity and wasn’t going to let it rest. He gestured to the jump seat.
Audrey carefully slid into the seat. “I don’t know when I’ve been more terrified. I can’t believe how close those buildings were.”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
Donovan found the cell phone they’d been using and handed it to her. “Can you redial the last number?”
“Who am I calling?” Audrey pressed two buttons and put it to her ear. “It’s ringing,” she announced, handing the phone to Donovan.
“O’Hare Tower!” Koski’s anxious voice sounded loudly through the speaker.
“Well folks, that didn’t work very well.” Donovan didn’t know what else to say.
“What’s your situation?” Henry demanded. “What happened?”
“Henry, is that you? Good, you’re still there. I’ve got to hand it to you, it was working. We were doing great until a fire broke out. John’s been burned pretty badly. I have a sneaking suspicion that the main feeders burned through. When we lost everything, it all went out at exactly the same time. We were lucky to get back on top.”
“Donovan, this is Frank Devereux. I’m glad you’re okay. Can you give us a status report?”
“How badly is John hurt?” Henry jumped in. “Tell me exactly where the smoke started.”
“Guys, I’m only going to talk to one of you—and that person is Henry. So Frank, just listen up.” Donovan paused for a moment. “Okay, the fire started in the panel behind the left seat. It ignited John’s clothing. His neck, hand, and the side of his face are all burned. They’re still working on him in the back.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Henry said. “How’s she flying right now?”
“About the same.” Donovan said. “Any improvement in the weather?”
Devereux spoke loudly, clearly ignoring Donovan’s wishes. “The weather at the moment is holding steady. We’re still trying to figure out exactly what our next step should be. We’re tracking a weak spot in the weather with the Doppler radar. We’re hopeful that the area will expand.”
“Where is this area now?” Donovan asked, sensing Devereux’s uncertainty. “Is Dr. McKenna still there? If it’s about the weather, I want to hear it from her.”
“I’m here,” Lauren said immediately.
“Good to hear your voice.” Donovan closed his eyes briefly as he soaked up the
image of her. “Talk to me.”
“I spoke with Calvin. We searched a 600-mile radius and the only break in the overcast is a heat island event. The area is stationary, about a mile downwind of the Loop. That’s the good news. The bad news is, it’s over Lake Michigan.”
“We’re hoping the area will widen,” Devereux said, jumping into the conversation. “Which might let you land at one of several smaller airports. Unfortunately, we don’t think it will reach O’Hare. But it might work for Midway, or perhaps Gary, Indiana.”
“Ignore him, he’s an ass,” Lauren said. “He doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. It’s a small, localized phenomenon. It’s not going to expand or move. In fact, as the snow cover lowers the surrounding temperature of the Loop, the area should actually begin to contract.”
Donovan knew he’d been right about how tentative Devereux sounded. He didn’t seem to possess a fraction of the drive that Henry had demonstrated. And now he’d tried to lie to him about the weather. “Lauren. What do you and Henry think?”
“Excuse me,” Devereux interrupted. “Henry’s wife is on board your flight. We don’t feel he’s the best one to be giving advice right now. That decision has been made.”
“Well, Frank.” Donovan’s irritation increased. He knew every institution possessed a number of ineffective, bureaucratic, political creatures, and he had just placed Devereux in that category. The fact that Lauren had called him an ass, spoke volumes. “I’m not sure how you do things at your airline, but despite the fact that Henry’s wife is on this plane, he is exactly who should be working on this. Use the best resources at your disposal. Now as the pilot of this airplane, I’d prefer to keep working with Henry.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Donovan,” Frank replied. “But it’s not going to happen. I can assure you, even with Henry’s dismissal, we’re still doing everything we can to find a solution.”
“I’ll tell you what—prove it then!” Donovan made no effort to hide the anger in his voice. “I’ll call you back in twenty minutes. We’re running out of cell phones, daylight and fuel. You get with Henry, or the engineers who designed the Boeing 737. I really don’t care. But I want less posturing and more results! Do you understand me?”
“880. This is the Tower Chief. You’re 25 miles northeast of the airport. Keep flying the same pattern you’ve been flying; it will keep you in our airspace.”
“Roger.” Donovan terminated the call.
“What did they say?” Audrey asked.
“Not much, I’m afraid.”
“Did I hear you say Frank, as in Frank Devereux?”
Donovan nodded.
“Oh, God. Henry hates him, thinks he’s totally inept, and you know what happens when Henry Parrish gets agitated.”
Donovan knew the question was a loaded one. He looked at Audrey, into a face that had been deeply affected by his actions so many years ago. It felt so strange to be close to her as Donovan Nash, instead of Robert Huntington. In so many ways it felt as if the ensuing years had suddenly evaporated. She was probably right; he did owe her an explanation. And right now it probably wouldn’t make any difference. If he was forced to ditch this airliner into the storm-tossed waves of Lake Michigan, there was little chance either one of them would survive. His secret would probably sink with them.
“Yes—I know what Henry Parrish is like when he makes up his mind,” Donovan confessed, turning and looking into her knowing eyes. “If my memory serves me correctly—I’m the one who introduced the two of you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The howling wind rose and fell, whipping snow against the windows. Lauren needed a moment to try to gather herself, to blot out the image of the 737 merging with the skyscrapers. Her hands were still shaking, her nerves frayed. The solitary aircraft on the radar screen was Wayfarer 880, circling offshore.
Henry was on the phone, as was Devereux. Lauren wished she knew what was being said, what plans were being made to try to save Donovan and the others. She kept thinking of how business-like Donovan had sounded. He was easily the most capable man she’d ever met; his bravery had made a difference in countless lives over the years. She hoped the people around her were half as capable. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She pulled it out of her coat pocket.
“Hello?” Lauren answered.
“Hi. It’s Matt. I tried the tower number but it was busy.”
“Did you hear what happened?” Lauren eyed Henry, making sure he was still on the phone and not listening in on her conversation.
“Yeah,” Matt replied. “Most of it anyway—Uh oh.”
“What’s going on?” Lauren said as she heard some odd background noise.
“Lauren,” Matt said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “Someone just went into the conference room we were in earlier. I have the intercom open; hang on a second.”
“Matt, what are you doing?” Lauren put a hand up and covered one ear. “I can hardly hear you.”
“Can you hear this?” Matt said softly.
Lauren listened intently as the voice became audible, only it wasn’t Matt, it was someone else. Lauren strained until she could make out the words. Only then did she realize she was listening to Cyrus Richtman.
“I can hear him,” Lauren said, matching Matt’s conspiratorial tone. “What’s he saying?”
“He just made a phone call. He must be on a cell phone—none of the lines from the phones in that room are lit up. I’ll try to jack up the volume a little, but I can’t let him know I’m listening or I’ll be in tons of trouble.”
Lauren wondered why Cyrus would sneak off to make phone calls in the deserted conference room. She eyed Devereux, wondering if he was privately talking to the CEO. She waited as Matt increased the volume. She could now easily hear Cyrus Richtman as he spoke.
“Look!” Cyrus hissed. “This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. When this is over, Leo will be history. The old man should have stepped down years ago. I’m just as concerned as you are that somehow these people will get that airplane on the ground in one piece and Leo will get the credit. I’m doing everything I can to make sure that what does happen makes Leo look like a confused old man.”
Lauren’s anger rose. She wondered who he might be talking with.
“Trust me, I’m going to put maximum pressure on Leo to get this airplane to ditch in the lake. The last thing I need is for this airplane to miraculously end up safe. The minute flight 880 is down, I’m going to call a board meeting and do everything I can to vote Leo out. After all, he was foolish enough to sign off on allowing a civilian to fly the plane. For god’s sake, they nearly crashed into the Hancock building. After I make an example of Leo’s spineless hand-wringing, and then point to the body-count from flight 880, I’m certain the board will elect me acting chairman. On Monday morning, Wayfarer stock is probably going to plummet dramatically—that’s when you make your move. With Leo gone, your group needs to make its tender offer for controlling interest in Wayfarer. I’ll of course recommend to the board that we accept the offer.”
Lauren had to suppress a scream. She looked at Henry who was still on the phone, oblivious to A Cyrus’ maneuverings.
“Our deal is still intact? I have your word that I’ll stay on as Vice-Chairman until your management team is in place? At that point the final payment will be deposited to my account.” Cyrus paused as he listened. “Excellent, I need to get with Leo and finish things at this end. I’ll be in touch.”
“Lauren?” Matt said in a normal voice the instant Cyrus had left the conference room. “Are you there? Did you get all of that?”
“I’m here,” Lauren said, livid at what Cyrus was doing. “Yes, I heard.”
“What are we going to do?” Matt nearly pleaded. “He’s trying to kill everyone.”
“Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Lauren urged. “They won’t believe either one of us. Let me talk to your father.”
“Like he can
do anything,” Matt said.
“Cut your father some slack,” Lauren said, abruptly, then immediately regretted her words. The battle between father and son wasn’t hers to fight.
“Whatever.” Matt’s wounded tone was clearly evident.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren said as she watched Devereux answer his cell phone. “I shouldn’t have said that, but your father is all we have right now to fight this. I promise your father and I will do whatever it takes.”
“Henry,” Devereux called out as he lowered the phone from his ear and ended the call. His face had drained of color. “We need to talk. It’s been decided.”
“What’s been decided?” Henry shot back. He terminated his own call and quickly crossed to where Devereux stood.
“Based on Dr. McKenna’s assessment of the weather situation, and the amount of daylight left—” Devereux’s voice was low and guarded. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “It’s been decided that 880 needs to take advantage of the heat-island event and ditch in Lake Michigan.”
Lauren felt as if she’d been physically punched. Cyrus had already put his plan into motion. “I have to go. Your father and I are probably on our way down,” Lauren whispered to Matt, and then quickly disconnected the call.
“Not yet you’re not!” Henry raised his voice. “We’ve still got other options.”
“There are no other options, Henry. I’m sorry,” Devereux said.
“You’re crazy!” Henry exploded. “This is Cyrus’ idea, isn’t it! I can’t believe you’d be a party to this madness. There are always other options. We just need to figure out what they are!”
“I don’t really care what you think,” Devereux said, his hands shaking. “It’s the only thing we—or they, have left.”
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