Without thinking, Lauren unfastened her seat belt and ran back to a window in first class. Guards came running down the wrecked jetway. One was jockeying the controls and the other was on his radio while keeping his pistol trained at the main door of the Boeing.
“Henry! They’re at the door!” Lauren’s control was slipping away. She and Henry weren’t terrorists; they weren’t a threat to anything but the carnage that Cyrus wanted to inflict on flight 880. Behind her, near the rear of the plane, a door opened loudly. She spun around, expecting security personnel to begin storming the plane to arrest them. Lauren wanted to scream for them to stop—to let her and Henry explain what they were trying to do.
“This way!” a voice shouted from the rear of the plane. “Hurry!”
Lauren tried to make sense out what she was seeing. Somehow, Matt was in the back of the plane—motioning frantically for her to follow.
“They’re coming! We don’t have much time!” Matt yelled.
In a near panic, Lauren raced for the cockpit. “Henry! Matt’s given us a way out! Come on!” As she turned to lead the way, a series of loud reports sounded just outside the door.
“What was that?” she yelled at Henry.
“They’re shooting the tires!” Henry shouted as he scrambled out of the cockpit, Tucker was ten feet behind him.
The metal handle on the main door began to turn; Security was seconds away from bursting into the cabin.
“Jesus!” Tucker ducked out of the cockpit as Henry and Lauren fled toward the rear of the plane.
Shouts erupted and Lauren’s panic rose to levels she didn’t know existed. She’d never been shot at before. She felt as vulnerable as she’d ever been in her entire life. Behind her a vividly bright light flashed—followed by a deafening explosion. The concussion wave nearly pushed her to the ground as it ripped through the cabin. Tucker cried out as he fell heavily in the aisle.
“Go!” Henry yelled through clenched teeth.
Lauren reached the back of the plane with Henry close behind. She held her breath, wondering if at any moment a bullet was going to find its mark. She careened heavily into the aft bulkhead, then pushed herself to the left and bolted toward the open door. Matt was standing below on the hood of the tug, arms outstretched. Without a moment’s hesitation, she jumped. Behind her she felt Henry make the same leap.
“Where’s Tucker?” Matt yelled.
“Get us out of here!” Henry shouted. “He’s not coming!”
Matt expertly swung himself behind the wheel. He waited impatiently as his two passengers piled into the cramped cab—then tromped on the gas pedal. At least for the moment their actions had gone unnoticed by the horde of security people in the jetway. Lauren hung on with all of her strength as they lurched away from the bullet-riddled jet.
The tug wasn’t made for speed; Lauren guessed they were only going twenty miles per hour. Matt did his best to keep equipment and airplanes between them and the security forces. They ran without lights as they vanished into the raging blizzard. Matt kept his foot on the gas as they rumbled under jetways, airplane wings, around scores of baggage containers and other equipment. They powered through a small tunnel beneath the concourse as they made their escape.
Lauren’s ears were ringing from the explosion in the airplane. She turned to Henry. “What in the hell was that?”
“I’m not sure,” Henry said, shaking his head. “I think it’s what they call a flash-bang grenade. It’s used to both blind and disorient people in a closed space. We were lucky we were as far away from it as we were.”
“What about Tucker?” Lauren swallowed to try to clear her ears.
“They have him. But I’m pretty sure those things don’t cause serious injury.” Henry sat up straighter and focused his gaze out the window. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to do something for him later. Matt, pull over under that 767.”
“What now?” Lauren said as Matt stopped the tug under the wing of the wide-bodied jet.
Henry was shivering. All he had on was his shirt and a light sweater. In their rush to escape, he’d left his coat in the airplane. “Where are we?”
“We’re two gates from the main terminal,” Matt said, confidently. “Tell me where we need to go and I can get us there.”
Henry wiped at the frost that was forming on the window. “I don’t know what to do. They’ll be watching every airplane at the terminal, we’ll never have a chance.” He turned to Lauren. “You said earlier you have a Gulfstream at Midway airport?”
“Yes, but if my friend Michael can’t get to O’Hare—what chance do we have of getting to Midway?”
“Dad, in the maintenance hanger there’s a Boeing 737. It’s been signed off for flight status. We were about to go reposition it when the flights began to cancel, I’ll bet it’s still there.”
“Son, are you sure?”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine anyone moved it. We were going to bring it over to H-20, but that gate was still occupied by another plane. It still has to be there!”
“Let’s go!” Henry said.
Without another word, Matt stepped on the gas and once again they barreled from under the parked jet into the full force of the storm. None of them spoke as Matt carefully threaded the tug through the maze of parked airplanes and ground support equipment.
“We need to try to stay under the terminals,” Matt yelled over the roar of the tug. “They won’t be able to see us and there’s no snow there, no tracks for them to follow.”
“How far away is this hangar?” Lauren asked as Matt pulled to a sudden stop near an American Airlines gate.
“It’s across the airport. Up on the north side,” Henry replied, then turned to Matt. “Why are we stopping?”
“This thing is too slow. We’ll never get anywhere.” Matt put the tug into park and pointed straight ahead. “Let’s trade this in for that.”
Matt was pointing at a blue, dual cab Ford pickup truck with an American Airlines logo painted on the side. It was tucked under the concourse and was relatively free of snow.
“The keys are always in these things.” Matt threw open the door to the tug.
Lauren thought it made perfect sense and followed Matt without waiting for Henry’s approval. She briefly entertained the idea that they might be able to bluff their way through Security in another airline’s vehicle. But in her heart she knew the entire airport was probably looking for a man, a woman, and maybe even a teenager. They would need to get to where they were going without being spotted.
Henry slid behind the wheel, found the keys in the ignition as Matt had promised, cranked the engine, and gunned the accelerator. He put the truck into gear and carefully maneuvered away from the Wayfarer tug.
“Matt, what’s the best way to Terminal One?” Henry found the windshield wipers and switched them on to clear the snow that was quickly covering the glass.
“Go under there and make a left on the other side of that MD-80,” Matt said immediately. “From there we can stay close to the terminal and hopefully no one will be able to see us.”
“Matt, do you know how to work this thing?” Lauren gestured to the two-way radio that was jammed up against her knees in the middle of the cramped bench seat. “Maybe we can hear what’s going on.”
“Cool. Good idea.” Matt reached down and brought the unit to life. “It’s set to the ground control frequency. I wonder if we could use this to give them some sort of fake report of where we’ve gone.”
“I love it!” Lauren called out and handed the microphone to Henry. If there were a transmission it would have to be from an adult male; neither she nor Matt would be believable.
“Let’s wait and listen.” Henry pushed the microphone away as he drove the stolen truck through a tunnel and came out on the north side of Terminal Two. Dead ahead, nearly obscured by the snow, lay United Airline’s two gigantic concourses.
Lauren had no idea how O’Hare was laid out. She only knew that they were running out of time.
> “If we could go straight across from here, it would only take us five minutes,” Henry explained. “The problem is that we have to cross this large expanse of ramp, plus two runways. Someone in the tower will surely see us on the surface radar, but I think that’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
“Wait! What if we see how many friends we have in the tower?” Lauren reached into her pocket for the slip of paper Kate had given her earlier. “This is the direct number to the cab. It might be worth a try.”
Henry took a deep breath as he thought.
“If they’re no help, we’ll just hang up.” Lauren brought out her cell phone and began to dial.
“Sure. Why not?” Henry put the truck into park. “Go ahead. But be careful what you say until we know what side they’re on.”
“Don’t worry.” Lauren put the phone to her ear and held her breath as it rang through.
“Tower. Koski here.”
“Hello, Wayne,” Lauren said, remembering his first name. “My friend and I were in the tower a little while ago. I’m sure you remember us.”
“Yes. Go ahead.” Wayne replied, guardedly.
“Have you figured out what we’re trying to do?” Lauren could picture the scene. Devereux was no doubt standing close, waiting, and watching all of the activity in the tower.
“I have a fair idea,” Wayne said, again using his business voice. “All I can say at this time is the airport is shut down due to security concerns. I’m going to give you another number for that. Maybe they can help you.”
Lauren memorized the number that Wayne gave her. She hung up and quickly dialed. Moments later a female voice answered.
“Hello,” Lauren said, tentatively. “Wayne gave me your number, said we should talk.”
“Is this who I think it is?” Kate replied, an air of caution in her voice.
“Yes.” Lauren wasn’t going to use names.
“I’m on a quick break,” Kate explained. “Wayne knows I always take my cell phone. What can I do for you?”
“I guess you know we’re in a bit of a bind?” Lauren wasn’t sure how much to divulge.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Kate said dryly. “I would have thought you’d be in custody by now. Though I do have to hand it to you two, it was a pretty bold plan.”
“We’re not finished yet. Please tell me 880 is still flying.”
“Yeah. Last I heard they’re getting everything settled before they go for the lake. They’re going to call in ten or fifteen minutes so we can start. It’s why I’m on a quick break. Wayne wants me back before—.”
“I’m going to level with you. We have one more option, but we need to somehow get from the main terminal to Wayfarer’s maintenance hanger. There’s another airplane there we can use to go get 880. What we need to know is, will we be seen as we try to cross the runways?”
“Yes,” Kate said as a matter of fact. “But it will be Andy who sees you first. If you give me three minutes, I’ll get up there and have a word with him. I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I owe you so much,” Lauren said. “If there’s anything I can ever do…”
“You can forget we ever had this conversation.” Kate’s tone turned serious. “I’m sticking my neck out a mile here, and I can’t promise this will even work. They’ve shut down the entire airport and I know they’re looking everywhere for you. I believe in what you’re trying to do, but I can’t be a part of it. Especially if it’s on our landlines, or the open frequencies. Everything is taped and saved. The procedures are very strict and I’ll abide by them at all costs. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Lauren said.
“Give me three minutes—then make a run for it. It’s the best I can offer.”
Lauren was about to thank her, but Kate was gone. She turned to Henry as she looked at her watch. “In three minutes we go. There are no guarantees, but we might not get thrown to the wolves.”
Matt cranked up the volume on the truck’s radio to see if the three of them could piece together all of the chatter. For the most part it was Andy talking to the snow-removal teams from the tower. Each seemed to have a different designation, but there was someone with the call sign “Snow One”, who seemed to be in charge of relaying the results of the team’s efforts. Lauren watched anxiously as the second hand slowly ticked across the face of her watch.
“Snow One,” Andy said, his voice transmitted from the tower. “I’m thinking we should give runway 32 Left one more pass, then we can start worrying about runway 27 Left again. Before I forget, remind me to get some people up toward the north maintenance hangars.”
“That’s the cue! He’s doing it!” Lauren cried out. “Henry. Go!”
Henry threw the truck into gear and stepped heavily on the accelerator. The wheels spun and the tail end fishtailed as the tires sought, then gained purchase and propelled them forward. Drifts on the inner ramp stood almost two feet deep in places, but Henry never let up as he plowed through them. The truck slid and skidded as they raced across the ramp to the large expanse of concrete that separated them from their destination.
Lauren put one hand on Matt and used the other to brace herself against the ceiling as the truck bounced and jumped over the ridges. Henry seemed to know where he was going as he yanked the wheel first one way then the other. The world outside was nothing but snow. In a matter of seconds, she became hopelessly disoriented.
“Dad! Look out!” Matt yelled as a huge snow bank appeared out of nowhere.
“Hang on!” Henry said through clenched teeth as he slammed the brakes and tried to steer away from the obstacle.
Lauren was thrown against Matt as the truck swerved to the left and careened sideways into the mountainous drift. In an instant they were airborne, followed by a jarring impact as they rolled over on their side and slid to a stop in two feet of fresh powder. The engine revved, then died. At first all she could see was snow coming down from the sky, then the powerful flashing lights of a vehicle bearing down on them. Lauren struggled to get her weight off of Matt. Henry threw open his door and crawled out. He in turn reached in and grabbed Lauren’s hand and helped her climb from cab. Matt followed close behind.
“Everyone all right?” Henry asked as he desperately put his full weight against the cab as if he could somehow right the vehicle.
“We’re fine,” Lauren replied, and Matt nodded that he, too, was okay. The snow had softened the impact. If the accident had happened on the bare tarmac, there might have been far greater consequences. Matt joined his father in pushing against the truck, but the heavy vehicle wouldn’t budge. Closing in fast were two other vehicles, both coming from behind. Another sound invaded her ears and Lauren searched the snow-obscured sky above her. Out of the gloom and mist the unmistakable outline of a helicopter appeared. Its olive-drab color told her in an instant it was an Army chopper. As it hovered closer, she recognized it as a Black Hawk; she’d ridden in them before with her duties at the DIA. Her heart sank at the sight. It was no use running. They were caught. She resisted the impulse to throw her hands up in surrender; instead she put her arms protectively around Matt. As the Black Hawk settled gently into the snow, she thought of Donovan circling in the sky somewhere high above her. She had no way of telling him they weren’t coming—they wouldn’t have that last phone call she knew they were both counting on. She so wanted to talk to him one more time, to say how much she loved him. But now that was all lost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The airplane moved abruptly beneath Donovan’s feet. The wings of the 737 rocked back and forth, signaling him to return to the flight deck as fast as possible. In his headlong dash for the cockpit, Donovan glanced up at the ceiling where he’d marked the split in the aluminum; the rupture had advanced at least eighteen inches farther aft from his impromptu smudge. The airplane was continuing to split apart as they flew.
“What is it?” Donovan said as he burst into the cockpit. His practiced eye quickly scanned the horizon outside; th
e airplane seemed to be under control. He then glanced at John who also appeared to be fine.
“Someone wants to talk with you.” Audrey held up Donovan’s phone as if it were somehow tainted.
Donovan swept the phone to his ear; from the expression on Audrey’s face he doubted this call was good news. “Hello.”
“Mr. Nash. This is Cyrus Richtman. We need to talk.”
“I’m a little busy right now,” Donovan said warily, sensing an ominous tone in Richtman’s voice. “What do you want?”
“I’m going to go on the premise that right now you’re in a better position to listen than talk.” Cyrus paused. “You know, it’s not often I get the chance to talk to a dead man—especially such a famous one.”
Donovan’s anger began to burn, but he remained silent.
“There have been some developments down here that I need to make you aware of. Your friends’ little attempt to come to your rescue has failed. Henry and Dr. McKenna are in custody—no one is on the way.”
The words hit Donovan hard. “They’re not coming?” he said, his thoughts shifting from success to failure. “How? Why?”
“They tried to steal an airplane and were discovered,” Cyrus continued. “My guess is they’ll be in jail a long time.”
Donovan hated the underlying self-confidence Cyrus used as he spoke.
“I want you to get on with landing your airplane in the lake.” Cyrus said firmly. “Don’t expect any help from me or the airline. Just get it over with!”
“Henry’s idea was a good one. Why wouldn’t you help—why would you condemn the people aboard this airplane?”
“Interesting choice of words,” Cyrus said, chuckling as he spoke. “I would have thought you understood condemnation. If I remember my history correctly, you condemned Meredith Barnes to death all those years ago.”
“You son-of-a-bitch!” Donovan snapped before he could reign in his anger. “The two events we’re talking about have nothing in common.” Donovan ground his teeth and stepped further away from John and Audrey. Somehow Cyrus knew about his past. Frantically, he searched for some edge, some way to get Cyrus to help them. “What is it you really want?”
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