Falling(62)

“Neither was you telling the crew. Or the authorities. Or killing my best friend. We told you: actions have consequences. Now take this, and pay for your mistakes.”

Bill leaned back, pulling away from the canister and the gun. He raised his hands in the air.

“I absolutely will not—”

Ben unbuckled his harness. Stepping over the center console, he towered over the captain, the barrel of the gun shaking as it pressed into Bill’s forehead.

Bill could feel his own arms, still spread wide, beginning to shake as well. Ben had the literal higher ground. He had a gun. And Bill had to stay alive because Ben would crash the plane.

“Okay,” Bill whispered. “Okay.”

Moving slowly, Bill brought his hands forward to accept the canister.

Ben pulled back and the gun left Bill’s forehead.

Bill shot upward, grabbing the hand that held the gun by the wrist. He wrenched his own hands as hard as he could, but from a seated position he had no leverage. Ben grunted and his grip on the gun slipped, his finger leaving the trigger—but he managed to keep it in his hand.

With his fingers still locked around Ben’s wrists, Bill torqued his own wrists violently.

Ben slammed Bill’s head with his other hand, the one clutching the canister. Every time his fist struck Bill’s body, the agitator ball inside the canister clanged. Blow after blow, the sounds of metal on metal and flesh on flesh filled the cockpit.

Bill pulled down hard and then pushed up harder, feeling Ben’s grip on the gun loosening each time. One more—

Ben cracked the metal canister against the side of Bill’s temple.

Bill’s vision went fuzzy with pain but he kept his hands clenched tight on Ben’s wrist.

Ben brought the canister down again on the exact same spot.

This time Bill’s vision went black. Dazed and disoriented, instinct took over, and he brought his hands up to protect his head. Released from Bill’s grip, Ben staggered backward.

Bill cursed and began to swing his arms behind him, trying to grab at Ben. Light and shadow returned to his vision, but it was all a blur.

The agitator ball clanked. Bill heard the hiss of the canister being unlocked, immediately followed by the door opening. Ben gave a small grunt and the air whistled as he chucked the poison out of the cockpit and into the cabin.





CHAPTER THIRTY


CARRIE WATCHED DIRECTOR LIU PACE while she barked questions into the van.

“What do you mean the first officer was in on it the whole time?” she demanded.

Agent Rousseau cut the rope around Scott. The boy collapsed into Carrie and wrapped his arms around her body, Elise sandwiched between them. He squeezed his mother hard and the baby whimpered.

“Gentle,” Carrie said. “It’s okay, baby. We’re safe.”

“I need to know—”

“Liu,” Rousseau said softly. “Give them a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute!” Liu screamed.

“She’s right,” Carrie said, climbing out of the van awkwardly while holding Elise. Turning, she took Scott’s hand before he jumped out. “What do you need?”

“The first officer—”

“Is friends with Sam.” Carrie motioned down the beach. She thought for a moment before thinking better of what she was about to say. Sighing, she kissed Elise and held the baby out to Rousseau. “Would you? I think they’ve seen enough today.” She dropped down level to her son. “We’re safe now, baby. But Mommy still needs to take care of some things to help Daddy. So I need you to stay with your sister and go with the agents, okay?” She kissed him on the top of his head, and watched them walk out of earshot before turning back to Liu. Wiping her face, she was suddenly exhausted. “His name is Ben. He’s Syrian too. Or Kurdish…” Her voice trailed off in embarrassed uncertainty. “And he has a gun.”

“Why didn’t he just crash the plane himself, then?” Liu asked.

Carrie shook her head. “Because that wasn’t it. They wanted to make Bill choose. Us or the plane.”

“And now that there isn’t a choice? Is he still going to make Bill crash?”

Carrie looked down the beach. In the distance she could make out agents circling Sam’s body, taking pictures, making marks, documenting, recording.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But we just killed the only family he had left. So I’d imagine anything’s possible.”

Carrie couldn’t decipher the look on Liu’s face as she turned away, bringing her phone to her ear. Carrie strained to hear what she was saying.

The young man with the gun who had chased Sam and allowed Carrie to escape approached, extending his hand. He introduced himself and asked if Carrie was all right.

Carrie took his hand in both of hers. “I will be once the plane lands.” She was about to thank him for what he’d done earlier when Liu returned. The two FBI agents stared each other down silently.

Finally, Liu spoke. “Don’t say ‘I told you so.’?” She stuck out her hand.

The man looked down at it for a moment before extending his. They shook hands—but both their faces remained stony and guarded.

“Theo,” Liu sighed. “We’re not done here. There’s a problem.”