Code Black

by Donlay, Philip S.

  “You had the world in the palm of your hand. Rich, famous, and talented—I don’t get it? Why?”

  “You remember the death threats, the private security that I had to employ to make sure no one close to me became another kidnapping target. There were almost daily threats to the people around me. You knew all about that, you were there—why are you so upset? The minute I died all of that insanity stopped.”

  She looked at Donovan, her head tilted slightly as if sizing him up. “You don’t think I’m angry because you wouldn’t sleep with me are you? Don’t flatter yourself. I was a young woman back then, you were a wounded man, but the chance to bed the famous billionaire Robert Huntington was just too good to pass up. Trust me, it would have been my prize, not yours. I know what you’re thinking, yes, Henry and I had been seeing each other, but it wasn’t that serious yet. And to answer your next question, no, Henry never knew.”

  A hundred questions flew through his mind. Despite her words he knew every woman hated to be told no, especially attractive, intelligent, aggressive ones.

  “Are you still wondering why I’m so goddamned furious at you? I’ll tell you why—you nearly killed Henry,” Audrey said as she sought out his eyes with her own. “After your accident, the months rolled by and you left him holding the proverbial bag—it nearly did him in. He and I had become very close by then, and I swear, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who took your death harder than he did.”

  “I know,” Donovan replied as he remembered back to that time. To how, in the end, he was finally forced to orchestrate Henry’s termination.

  “They kept coming at him, the Federal Aviation Administration, the National Transportation Safety Board, the media. The same questions over and over, how had the plane you were flying crashed? Was it an accident, murder, suicide? Henry, as your chief pilot, was the go-to-guy as far as anyone cared. God knows he felt responsible. He was devastated, and you’re accountable for that.”

  “I didn’t expect it to happen the way it did,” Donovan said honestly, but he also knew he’d never in a hundred years be able to explain it to her satisfaction. Why he’d done what he did.

  “Was it really so awful back then? Was leaving your only option?”

  “I’ve asked myself the same question for the last eighteen years,” he answered firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “The answer is yes.”

  “You and Henry shared a bond the rest of us didn’t have. You both loved your goddamned airplanes. After you died, he tried to mourn with the rest of us, but he was sucked into the post-crash investigation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more troubled, or lost, but he was forced to delve into every painful aspect of the disappearance of your plane. I honestly think at times, he felt like he’d somehow had a hand in your death.”

  “I understand that,” Donovan said quietly. “It wasn’t fair…none of it was. But it had to be that way. It was my hope that Henry would stay on with Huntington Oil, but as he became more and more entrenched into the investigation of my death, he became a liability. If you remember, at one point he wanted the FAA to recover the plane, which would have been a disaster. Post-crash analysis would have raised plenty of suspicions as to whether or not I was on board when it hit the water. I had no choice except to let him go.” Donovan stopped talking, there was probably no way he could explain everything that had happened back then. He also doubted that she’d be receptive to hearing the other side of the story, how he’d helped Henry rebound from being let go from Huntington Oil. All of the behind-the-scenes maneuvering he’d accomplished on Henry’s behalf. He hoped there would be time for that—later.

  Audrey swallowed hard “There is so much to ask, so many things I want to know.” She paused, her curiosity finally overcoming her anger.

  Donovan was about to answer when the cell phone in Audrey’s hand sprang to life. She looked down at the caller ID, then back up at Donovan. “It’s someone named Lauren.”

  “Give it here,” Donovan said quickly and took the phone. “Hello.”

  “Donovan, can you hear me?” Lauren’s voice was scratchy but audible.

  “Are you still in the tower? Did you find someplace for us to go?” Donovan knew she didn’t call to chitchat.

  “I can’t talk long.” Lauren kept her voice low. “I’m with Henry. We’re on our way to get another airplane ready to go. We’re going to take off, fly up and rendezvous with you. We think it’ll be possible for you to fly in formation with us, follow us all the way to the runway.”

  Donovan sat straight up in his seat as he processed the words. “Tell Henry he’s a genius!”

  “It was my idea, actually,” Lauren said. “The down-side is the airline doesn’t know we’re doing this—in fact, I overheard one their executives, Cyrus Richtman, he’s the CEO, saying that he wants you to crash in the lake. There’s a lot of ugly corporate maneuvering going on here. But the bottom line is Cyrus wants you to crash so he can oust Leo Singer and takeover the company. I also heard him say that he thinks he can place part of the blame on you and Eco-Watch.”

  “You and Henry do whatever it takes.”

  “I hope you mean that,” Lauren replied. “I’m sorry, but I had to tell Henry who you are, that you could do this, otherwise he wouldn’t even have attempted it. It worked, but he’s not too happy you’re alive.”

  “I understand,” Donovan said, then took a deep breath and looked at Audrey. He understood enough about human nature to know that it would be a miracle if his long-held secret would remain in this small circle of people.

  “Henry says to sit tight, no matter what Devereux says, and we’ll be there inside the half hour.”

  “We’ll be here.” Donovan squinted at the setting sun. Henry was pushing it if they were going to get this thing on the ground before it was completely dark.

  “I love you, Donovan,” Lauren said, her voice full of warmth.

  “I love you, too,” Donovan said, then the connection went dead.

  “Who was that? Who is Lauren?” Audrey probed. “What’s going on?”

  “Lauren is my fiancée.” Donovan turned and smiled for the first time in what felt like days. “Seems she and Henry are stealing a jet to come up here and lead us home.”

  “They’re what?” Audrey shook her head as if she hadn’t heard correctly.

  “It’s brilliant. Once they get here, we’ll join up with Henry’s plane and follow them all the way through the storm to the runway. We’ll use his instruments to make it to the runway.”

  “And Lauren? She’s your fiancée? How is it possible she’s with Henry?”

  “She was waiting for me at O’Hare. They found each other.” Donovan wondered what Audrey was thinking.

  “Did you ever marry?”

  Donovan shook his head solemnly. “No, but I finally found Lauren, and she’s wonderful, well worth the wait. I can’t imagine my life without her.”

  “Does she know who you are?”

  “Yes, I finally had to tell her,” Donovan said, then paused. “We also have a daughter, Abigail. She’s almost a year and a half old.”

  “Good for you.” Audrey’s wistful smile dissolved quickly into a heartbreaking expression of pain and sorrow.

  “What’s wrong?” Donovan asked, perplexed by the haunted look on her face. In the last few minutes she’d gone from white-hot rage, all the way through the emotional spectrum to quiet desperation. Donovan knew it went far deeper than just being in this airplane and coming face to face with him.

  “Henry and I had a daughter. Her name was Megan. We lost her to leukemia,” Audrey said, her voice choking as she spoke. “It been almost two years now.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Donovan lowered his head.

  Audrey smiled bravely. “Thank you, but I shouldn’t have brought it up. When Megan died is when I lost Henry.”

  “I don’t understand.” Donovan replied, he waited to see if she would continue.

  Audrey averted her gaze and looked out the window. “No
, I didn’t lose him in the literal sense, but it was the beginning of the end for our marriage. The day Megan, passed, was also the day I think our relationship died. It took a long time for our marriage to die, it takes a while for a marriage to die from neglect. Anyway, a few months ago Henry finally moved out and I don’t think we’re getting back together—it’s over. That’s why I’m on this flight, I was out in D.C. interviewing for a job. Matt and I might try to start over on the east coast.”

  Donovan wished there was something he could say, but he was now an outsider. He’d given up that right long ago. He thought about Henry and wondered about the impending confrontation, how would his old friend react when they were finally face to face. That is, if they got that chance.

  “Permission to return to the flight deck, Captain.” John’s voice sounded weak as he inched his way into the cockpit. Audrey quickly got out of the seat and slid sideways, allowing the injured pilot to get past her.

  “John. Are you sure about this?” Donovan eyed his bandages; his right hand and most of his left arm were covered in plastic. Blisters on the side of his head had already formed. Clumps of burnt, matted hair stood out in stark contrast to his brown locks.

  “I’m sure. I don’t know how much help I can be, though.” John eased himself down slowly into the left seat. He let out a stifled moan, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. “There. I’m okay.” He turned to Donovan, his breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. He wiped his forehead with his good arm. “I always knew I’d hate being on fire,” he said, forcing a grim smile.

  Donovan studied John carefully. “I can’t believe you can even move.”

  “Rafael’s pretty clever. He wrapped most of this in plastic, he then taped it tight at each end. He says with burns, it’s the oxygen that causes the worst pain. Believe me, it still hurts and my right hand isn’t good for much. But I can use this one.” John fastened his harness, and then triumphantly rested his left hand on the controls. He tested his abilities by flexing his joints. “I don’t think I can do much more than fly straight and level. But I’d sure like it back for a little while.”

  “You’ve got it then.” Donovan let him take the controls of the airliner. “We just got a phone call from Henry. We’re going to have company soon.”

  “What?” John shot Donovan a questioning glance.

  “Seems Henry is borrowing another airplane to come up and lead us home. He wants us to sit tight.”

  “I’ll be damned!” John said. “You’re talking about our flying in formation with Henry’s plane—all the way to the ground?”

  “Exactly.” Donovan tried to measure John’s reaction.

  John lowered his head in defeat. “I’m afraid it’s probably beyond what I can do—one handed.”

  Donovan nodded grimly—he’d already accepted the fact that he’d be the one who’d have to do the delicate flying.

  “I’ve been watching you though; you’re a natural. From coming up here in the first place, to flying us back on top of the clouds after our first approach.” John arched his eyebrows. “How do you feel? Do you think you can fly what’s left of this plane?”

  “You bet,” Donovan said with more confidence than he felt. He knew it was difficult to fly in tight formation under ideal conditions. In this blizzard, with this 737, the task was far from ideal.

  “Then we’ll wait here for Henry.” John turned to Audrey, and forced a lopsided grin. “Your husband is now officially my favorite person.”

  “There’s one other small detail.” Donovan could feel the cloak of doom evaporating from the cockpit. They now had a new, legitimate chance to survive. “Henry is stealing the airplane. For whatever the reasons—management, or whoever is in charge down there isn’t behind this plan. Someone named Richtman wants to use our crash to oust Leo Singer. So, we need to keep this under wraps from Devereux.”

  “God, I hate Richtman,” John said angrily. “But it sounds about right for the total idiots we have running this airline. No balls—and no imagination.”

  “Donovan!” Rafael’s excited voice called out from behind them. Moments later the young student stuck his head into the cockpit.

  “What’s the problem?” Donovan glanced at both John and Audrey.

  “Keith caught Wetzler breaking into the liquor. Wetzler attacked him and now he’s barricaded himself in one of the lavatories and won’t come out.”

  “John, can you fly the plane without me for a little bit?” Donovan asked, abruptly.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Audrey, you stay here,” Donovan said. He threw off his harness, hoping she understood he wanted her to stay up front and watch their injured captain.

  “Go! I’ll be fine,” John said, and shrugged painfully. “If I need you I’ll rock the wings back and forth like we talked about before.”

  “After you take care of Wetzler, we could use another phone,” Audrey said. She gave Donovan a discreet nod that she understood her job. “Your phone is nearly dead, as are the other two we have.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Donovan rose from his seat. “Where’s the crash ax?”

  John pointed out the ax’s location. “You’re only going to use that on the door, aren’t you?”

  “We’ll see,” Donovan said, grabbing the razor sharp tool. “Trust me. This won’t take long.”

  “I guess not,” John added.

  Donovan was livid. He ran down the aisle toward the rear of the plane. Sitting on the floor in the aft galley, Keith held a compress to his forehead. Donovan ignored the alarmed expressions of both Christy and Rafael as he positioned himself outside the lavatory. Above the wind noise he could hear Wetzler talking to someone. Donovan stood back and tested the weight of the ax. He measured the point of impact, then with one fluid motion, drove the razor-sharp edge into the thin metal of the door, severing the latch. He yanked the door open and grabbed a terrified Wetzler, and with as much force as he could generate, jerked the man out of the lavatory.

  “What the—!” Wetzler blubbered. In his surprise the phone he was using dropped from his hand and clattered to the lavatory floor.

  Donovan immediately shoved Wetzler backward into the galley and slammed him hard against the bulkhead. Wetzler’s head crashed against the wall, but he quickly gathered his wits and tried to resist the assault. Donovan reached down for the phone, but before he could grab it, Wetzler, screaming obscenities, propelled himself forward.

  “You asshole! You can’t push me around. I have my rights!”

  Wetzler’s sudden attack forced Donovan backwards. He put his arms up to ward off the poorly aimed blows as he tried to regain his balance. The stale smell of alcohol enveloped him. He was about to retaliate when Keith’s massive arms reached around Wetzler, holding the frenzied man motionless.

  Donovan picked up Wetzler’s phone. His anger grew when he realized it was smashed. He tossed it to the floor and spotted the half-dozen empty vodka miniatures that Wetzler had pilfered from the galley. He turned and glared at the pathetic, red-faced Wetzler, struggling in vain against Keith’s grip. “You had a phone the whole time we were looking for one and didn’t say anything?”

  Keith tightened his hold until Wetzler cried out in pain.

  “I would’ve given you mine, but you found one!” Wetzler sputtered.

  “You’re useless!” Donovan resisted the urge to strike the man.

  Wetzler tried once again to squirm free. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

  Donovan shook his head. “No you won’t. If we live through this, I’m having you charged with interfering with a flight crew—it’s a felony.”

  “Go to hell!” Wetzler screamed, twisting and flailing. He kicked his legs and caught Donovan on the shin just below the knee.

  Donovan looked at Wetzler, staring into defiant, crazed eyes. He inspected Wetzler’s injured face; the cuts and abrasions barely scabbed over. Donovan picked a spot and hit him hard. With a loud pop that signaled at least a severely broken nose, Wetzler’s
pupils rolled back and he went limp in Keith’s arms.

  “Good shot,” Keith shouted triumphantly as he tossed Wetzler like so much rubbish into an empty seat. “If you weren’t going to, I was. What a piece of shit.”

  Donovan massaged his stinging fist as the pain dissipated.

  “I can’t believe he attacked me,” Keith said as he touched the fresh gash on his forehead.

  Donovan leaned down and cinched up a seat belt around the unconscious man. “I don’t think he’ll cause any more problems.”

  Donovan felt everyone’s attention riveted on him, he saw their scared faces, waiting for him to say something. “Just so everyone is on the same page, I need to bring you up to date. In about half an hour we’re going to be joined by another airplane. The plan is for us to fly in close formation with the other plane and follow it down and land at O’Hare. Audrey will come back and be in charge of the emergency evacuation. It might be smart to gather up all the pillows you can find and use them to brace yourselves for an emergency landing. When all of this happens—and I mean this—save yourselves first. Don’t worry about Wetzler, or the others. Just do what Audrey tells you to do, and get out of the plane.”

  “Could this really work?” Rafael furrowed his brow, his expression one of guarded optimism.

  “Yes,” Donovan replied quickly. “Formation flying is done all the time in the military. Have you ever seen the Blue Angels, or the Thunderbirds? They do it with up to six airplanes at a time. Two is a piece of cake.”