Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(8)

One look out the window showed the sun dropping low in the sky. The plane had turned south toward Montgomery Field. The name always made Zach chuckle. How apropos that the Company flew him into Montgomery Field. He’d always wondered if he had a long-lost relative with tons of money. Not hardly. Christmases had been chaotic enough with the Montgomery clan of eight. A bunch of cousins would have been plain irritating.

Odd how his mind had wandered to the past. He blinked his eyes and shifted his gaze to the Kevlar-lined cockpit door, barricaded shut. The gray steel grew fuzzy.

He inhaled. His head ached, he longed to close his eyes and sleep. Just sleep.

Oh, hell.

He had to…his mind wandered. Forcing himself to focus on his seatbelt, Zach struggled with the flap. After several tries he finally released the buckle. He shifted his weight to stand, but his legs shook beneath him. His head spun. He clutched the back of the chair, stumbling from one chair to the next down the wide aisle of the plane.

He recognized the oxygen deprivation symptoms from a training session in an F-16 for Dark Avenger. He glanced up to the ceiling. The masks should have come down.

One more step and he keeled over. Spots circled in front of his eyes. He tried to breathe but could feel his energy waning.

Think, Zach. Think.

Oxygen. Tanks. When the pilot had placed Zach’s jacket in the coat compartment…

The pilot. Was he conscious? Zach didn’t register any unusual downward trajectory of the plane, but he could barely focus. He needed air.

He dragged himself to the closet.

What was he trying to do?

He squinted at the metal latch holding the closet closed. Right. Something in there he needed. He propped himself up. Surely he could open it. He lifted his hand. His fingers were fuzzy. Thick and clumsy. He struggled, his breathing more and more shallow, like a steel band had tightened around his chest.

He needed to breathe.

Out of time.

The latch opened. With a final heave, he shoved aside the door. The momentum flung him to the floor. He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. He blinked. He panted. His breathing slowed.

He didn’t want it to end this way. He’d expected to die young. But not lying on the floor helpless.

He tried to take one last deep inhalation, but all he could manage was a pathetic wheeze. He turned his head and pawed at the strap from the green oxygen canister. He clawed it to him. The mask tumbled beside him.

He used all his energy to turn to his side. His stomach cramped. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He turned the knob of the canister. A hissing sound gave him hope. He slammed the mask on his face.

He breathed in, hard and deep. His hungry lungs gobbled the oxygen. For a few seconds he just lay there, his chest expanding and contracting. His mind cleared a bit.

Thank God.

That had been way too close.

He scanned the empty forty-foot-long cabin. There were only three of them on board. Zach and two pilots.

None of the oxygen masks had deployed.

That meant only one thing. Sabotage.

He had to get to the pilots. If they weren’t already dead.

He adjusted the mask over his head and clasped the oxygen tank in front of him. He struggled to his knees and crawled a few paces. He braced himself and tried to rise. His legs folded under him. He fell to the ground. The oxygen tank tumbled toward the main cabin. He rolled over and reached for the canister.

The cockpit door clicked open behind him. Thank goodness. Someone was still alive. The pilots must have had time to don their oxygen masks.

Zach tried to turn over, but his body wouldn’t move. Not yet. He tried to slow his breathing, let the oxygen do its work.

A pause. A deep voice mumbled. Zach strained to listen.

“Worked…Montgomery…dump…body…”

No way.

Zach stilled.

A setup. All along. His mind whirled. Only the Company knew he’d been taken out of the job.

His cover really had been compromised.

Footsteps headed toward him.

Zach tensed. He had to keep perfectly still. He sucked in more of the healing oxygen.

The man stopped. Every muscle in Zach’s body contracted to the ready. He had to time it perfectly for his air-starved body to have a chance.

A foot nudged Zach’s back. He let himself be shoved forward, further hiding the oxygen canister from the traitor’s gaze. If the guy didn’t notice the elastic holding the mask to Zach’s face, he might…

A hand grasped Zach’s shoulder.

Time was up.

Zach flipped over.

The pilot’s eyes widened. Zach yanked off the man’s oxygen gear, snapping the elastic. He stumbled away. Zach lunged toward him and grabbed his feet. The pilot pitched forward with a shout. Zach didn’t let go.

He pinned the man’s legs to the ground and pressed his forearm against the guy’s throat. His lips started turning blue. “Who ordered my death?” Zach growled.

The pilot shook his head. “Just kill me.”

“You die anyway if I don’t let you put the mask on.”

The man lay motionless. Zach didn’t ease his grip. No one gave up that easily.

The pilot arched up, the sudden movement shifting Zach off the man’s body. A knife slashed at Zach’s oxygen tubing. He twisted out of the way, but the blade sliced through his shirt diagonally across his chest, drawing blood.