CHAPTER 7 — THE LAST FIVE MINUTES
CHAPTER 7 — THE LAST FIVE MINUTES
Every sound aboard Flight 782 disappeared beneath one terrifying realization.
The man with the detonator was directly beneath the cockpit.
If he triggered another explosion, the airplane would almost certainly be lost.
Air Marshal Ethan Cross crouched outside the avionics access hatch.
The compartment beneath the cockpit was barely large enough for one person to crawl through.
Dark.
Hot.
Filled with wiring bundles and electronic equipment.
Inside, a flashlight beam flickered.
A calm voice echoed upward.
"I wouldn't come any closer."
Cross drew his service weapon but couldn't fire.
One bullet into the avionics bay could destroy critical flight systems.
"Drop the detonator."
The man laughed softly.
"You know you can't shoot."
Cross remained silent.
The stranger slowly crawled backward into the darkness.
His face finally came into view.
Grace gasped.
It was the same "maintenance technician" she had seen before departure.
Except now his airport beard had been peeled away.
The glasses were gone.
The disguise had vanished.
"You've caused enough damage," Cross said.
The saboteur smiled.
"Not yet."
Inside the cockpit, another alarm sounded.
Fuel imbalance.
Malachi checked the gauges.
The left wing contained nearly two thousand pounds more fuel than the right.
The earlier damage had prevented the automatic balancing system from working.
The heavier wing wanted to drop.
Every correction required more strength.
His arms burned.
Sweat rolled down his forehead.
Captain Hale listened to the strain in the boy's breathing.
"You can do this."
"I know."
Malachi answered honestly.
"I'm just getting tired."
Grace looked at the clock.
They were still more than twenty minutes from the nearest runway.
Too long.
Then London Control interrupted.
"We have new information."
Captain Hale answered.
"Go."
"The Royal Air Force has cleared an emergency diversion."
"The nearest suitable runway is Shannon, Ireland."
Grace stared at the navigation display—
Except there wasn't one anymore.
Only darkness.
Captain Hale continued.
"We'll guide you using radar."
"You won't need the flight computer."
Malachi nodded.
"Old-fashioned flying."
"Exactly."
Back beneath the cabin floor...
The saboteur pressed the detonator against his thumb.
Cross studied him carefully.
"You'll die too."
The man shrugged.
"I accepted that months ago."
"Who sent you?"
No answer.
Cross tried again.
"Why this flight?"
The man's smile disappeared.
"It wasn't the flight."
"It was the captain."
Cross froze.
"What?"
"The real target was Owen Pierce."
Grace heard every word through Cross's open radio.
Captain Pierce?
Why?
The saboteur looked almost disappointed.
"He discovered something he shouldn't have."
"He reported maintenance fraud."
"Millions of dollars."
"Fake safety inspections."
"Counterfeit aircraft parts."
Cross's heart sank.
Someone had wanted Captain Pierce silenced.
"But he survived takeoff."
"So I improvised."
The man's thumb tightened on the detonator.
"And now..."
"...no witnesses."
Cross moved.
So did the saboteur.
The compartment exploded into violence.
The detonator skidded across the metal floor.
Both men lunged.
Cross caught the terrorist's wrist.
The man slammed a wrench into Cross's shoulder.
Bones cracked.
Cross refused to let go.
The detonator bounced once...
Twice...
Then disappeared beneath a wiring rack.
Both men dove for it.
At that exact second—
The airplane hit severe turbulence.
The entire aircraft dropped.
Everyone was thrown sideways.
The detonator slid through a drainage opening...
...and vanished into the bilge beneath the electronics bay.
The saboteur stared.
"No..."
Cross tackled him before he could recover.
The two men smashed into the equipment racks.
Security restraints finally arrived.
Two off-duty police officers helped pin the attacker to the floor.
For the first time since takeoff...
The danger from inside the aircraft was over.
May you like
But outside...
Another storm had arrived.
