Falling(16)

“Plus—we don’t know how he feels about you.”

“Exactly. If he thinks I’m going to kill him…” Bill trailed off and cleared his throat. “Look, I just can’t risk him taking this into his own hands. I can’t risk my family like that.” He glanced at the cockpit door. “Dammit, I gotta get back up there.”

“Okay, but wait. What about the passengers?” Jo said.

Bill and Jo looked out, scanning the tops of the heads in the cabin. Everyone was reading, sleeping, watching TV. Nothing felt amiss, nothing felt off. No one was watching them, no one seemed to care about what they were doing.

They knew better.

“The passengers can’t know, Jo. We can’t tip off whoever is on board to make sure I make a choice. I mean, they’re going to know something is up because you guys are going to have to figure out a way to protect them. But they can’t know about the whole situation. DC? No. And they can’t know about my family. They cannot know about the choice. They’ll assume I’ll choose my family. There’s no way they’d trust us.”

She didn’t reply.

“You know I’m not going to crash this plane. Right?”

One of their first layovers together had been in Seattle some twenty years ago. The whole crew was heading back to the hotel after happy hour downtown when a drunk walking by muttered a racial slur. As the only Black member of the crew, Jo knew it was meant for her but she didn’t say anything. Bill, on the other hand, let the man know exactly what he thought. The next day, the first officer had to fly all three legs because Bill’s broken fingers kept him from fully grasping the joystick.

Delays, mechanicals, unruly passengers. She’d passed him a million leftover first-class meals and poured him twice as many cups of coffee. On September 11th, she was one of the first people he checked in with. When his father died, she sent flowers. Their families exchanged Christmas cards every year. After more than two decades of flying, Bill wasn’t a coworker. He was a friend, he was family. Jo knew Bill.

“Yes,” she replied. “I know you’re not going to crash this plane.”

But something deep in Jo’s gut stirred as she said it.

Her phone vibrated against the metal countertop. Reading the message, she smiled.

“The FBI is on their way to your house.”

Grabbing her shoulders, Bill kissed her forehead, tears of relief filling his eyes.

He picked up the phone to call the cockpit but paused before pressing the button. “The FBI will take care of my family, and we’ll take care of the plane. I’ll try to communicate, but no guarantees. You guys may be on your own back here. But eyes open. You know you’re not alone.”

Jo nodded.

“Most likely,” said Bill, “I’m going to have to play along. I will do everything I can to not throw that canister. But I may have no choice. Assume a gas attack will come from the cockpit unless the FBI gets my family first. He will kill them if he thinks I chose the plane.”

“Okay.”

“The cabin needs to be ready, okay?”

“It will be, captain.”

“Jo, dammit! I might be the captain, but once that door shuts, you’re on your own. Do you understand? This is your cabin.” His eyes burned with urgency and, transfixed under his gaze, her confidence swelled. “You have my word that I am not going to crash this plane. But how I accomplish that I haven’t figured out yet. As far as back here goes, it’s up to you all to figure out how to get this cabin ready for an attack. Understood?”

Jo nodded silently as Bill rang the cockpit to give Ben the cue to open the door and let him back up. She turned to block. The pilot and the flight attendant stood back to back, one facing away, one facing toward the cockpit.

“I trust you, Jo. We have control of this aircraft.”

The door opened and closed behind her and Jo was alone. Alone in her cabin.





CHAPTER FIVE


“NO CHANGES?” BILL SAID.

“No changes,” Ben replied.

“I have control.”

“You have control.”

Ben unbuckled his harness as his seat adjusted back. Ducking, he stepped over the center console. Adjusting his pants and tucking his shirt in, he closed one eye to peer out the cockpit door’s peephole to make sure Jo was still blocking. Behind him, Bill readjusted his seat and buckled his harness, control of the aircraft shifting from first officer back to captain.

Bill knew he had a window of less than five seconds.

Less than five seconds while the computer screen was still down and Sam couldn’t see him. Five seconds when Ben was distracted and wouldn’t ask Bill what he was doing. Five seconds to press and release the correct reception knobs. Five seconds to enable the radio’s backup frequency. Five seconds to twist the volume on Ben’s headset all the way off so he wouldn’t hear the secondary channel. A line of gray knobs with white stripes lined up on the center console by his knee waiting for his command.

For the whole flight, those five seconds were his only opportunity to engage the one thing he could think of that might possibly help him out of this hell.

“Door opening,” Ben said. The door opened and shut with a slam a moment later.

It was done. He didn’t even need all five seconds.