Chapter Six

By the time Flight 23 was half-way to Denver, Blayne’s jaw hurt from grinding her teeth. She was stressed to the max and supremely frustrated by her unsuccessful efforts to break her escort’s stoic silence. She had stared at his profile so long trying to get him to talk to her that she had every detail memorized. The more he ignored her, the more she wanted to rip that mustache off his face.

There was no one else near enough to talk to and she was too keyed up to read a magazine. She just had to get up, move around, do something, or she’d go mad. That caged-animal feeling was back with a vengeance.

“I need to stretch my legs,” she announced and waited for Topping to stand up so she could get out into the aisle. Despite the countless empty seats in their section, he had insisted on having her sit beside him.

“Not a smart idea,” he answered. “I’d rather you wait until we land. It’ll only be another hour or so.”

“Come on,” she insisted. “I’m just going to walk up to the restroom and back.” She half stood in her seat so she could count the heads rising above the seatbacks between their seats and the lavatories. “There are less than a dozen people back here. I’ll be there and back in two minutes.”

He still made no move to get up, but she could tell from the expression on his face that he was at least considering it.

“I had two cups of coffee this morning before I left, and now two more, and it’s all hitting me at once,” she threatened. “You can come with me if you have to, but I have to go. ”

“All right. All right.” He stood and stepped out into the aisle.

She pushed past him before he could change his mind. He was still issuing orders like she was five years old as she started forward.

“The nearest one and right back. Stay in sight and don’t talk to anyone.”

But Blayne took her time, proceeding slowly up the aisle, savoring the tiny bit of freedom. As she passed by the handful of passengers between her and her destination, she glanced briefly at each of them, reassured that no one seemed the slightest bit interested in her. A woman, head down, engrossed in a magazine. A middle-aged couple, playing a game of cards. A young mother and her fussy toddler twins. A paunchy businessman, fast asleep and snoring softly.

She lingered in the restroom, staring at herself in the mirror, still shocked by her transformation. It made her dizzy, the unfamiliar landscape of her current reality. She needed her anchor—the one person she could rely on. The one person who had helped her make sense of her life the last time she lost everything and had to start over. Claudia.

Where are you? You can’t be dead. You can’t be. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. Wouldn’t I know? Wouldn’t I feel it if the only family I have left was gone forever?

She refused to accept the possibility that Claudia and Philippe were dead. Topping was obviously going to tell her nothing of their fate. Perhaps she wouldn’t know until the trials, when she returned to Chicago. Certainly many months from now, at the earliest. That thought of not knowing what had happened really depressed her. But perhaps it was better than learning they were dead, extinguishing all hope entirely.

Sighing, she wiped her cheeks and unlocked the door. She knew Topping would come looking for her if she delayed much longer. And indeed, he was watching intently as she stepped back out into the aisle. Thankfully, he was also somewhat preoccupied chatting with a cute dark-haired flight attendant, so Blayne didn’t rush to get back to her seat.

Alexi was initially surprised to see Blayne Keller venture to the facilities alone, but she supposed she might also have let her off the leash if she’d been Topping, given the scarcity of passengers in this section of the plane.

She followed Blayne’s progress out of the corner of her eye and managed to appear pre-occupied as she passed by. She adopted the same approach when Blayne ambled back down the aisle but she could not resist trying for a quick close-up glimpse of the witness. Alexi was surprised to feel an unexpected jolt of sympathy when she registered the traces of tears on Blayne’s face. For just a moment she forgot herself and didn’t immediately look away.

Their eyes met.

Blayne stopped in her tracks with four feet or so of distance between them. Despite her edgy anxiousness and the disconcert she felt at being stared at under the circumstances, she couldn’t help but stare right back at the woman whose compelling gaze had arrested her. She even forgot her hideous hair and makeup for a moment. She sure liked the way this woman was looking at her. God, you’re beautiful. Any other place and time, to find such a woman taking an interest…

Before she could complete the thought, she was thrown from her feet as a tremendous force seemed to smash against her. The plane shook violently and a foggy mist filled the cabin. Blayne knew she screamed with fright but she could not hear herself. An excruciating pain rocketed through her eardrums and she was flailing against the seats around her, dragged as if by a current. At exactly the same moment she felt a hand clamp down on her wrist and she was hanging there, torn between two equal and opposite forces.

Somehow it seemed the vise-like grip also put the brakes on time. At first, all Blayne could hear was the ringing in her ears, then the noisy straining of her heart, all as if under water. Then she could make out people screaming, babies crying, overhead luggage bins slamming open, the drone of the engines, the roar of air rushing by. Everywhere, debris flew, large and small. Pieces of the plane, buzzing wires, magazines and pillows, shoes and purses, and carry-on bags, and cans of soda turned into deadly projectiles.

A can of ginger-ale grazed her temple as it whooshed by and for the first time her mind seemed to process information. There was a hole in the plane. They were going down. She tried to look around but all she saw was something metallic coming straight for her, then she fell into a dark vortex and her last thought was I’m dead.

Alexi stared down at Blayne’s limp body. Blood almost seemed to gush from her head. But she was alive. Alexi could feel her pulse. The oxygen masks had deployed, dangling about her in every direction, a sea of orange cups. But in order to reach hers, she would have to let go of Blayne. It wasn’t an option. She tried to suck in air, but her lungs screamed for more, and she prayed she wouldn’t lose consciousness. If she did, Blayne wouldn’t stand a chance.

The lights flickered on and off and finally went out in their section, except for the emergency trail of small bulbs along the aisles. It was still plenty light enough to see well, they were up above the clouds and it was the middle of the day. But most of the window shades had been pulled down for the in-flight movie, so the contrast was extreme between Alexi’s section and the gaping hole behind her where the sunlight streamed in. In the blink of an eye, Special Agent Topping and the flight attendant had been sucked out into oblivion, along with the seat that Blayne had been sitting in.

Flight 23 had already started its long descent into Denver and was at 15,000 feet when the bomb went off, but the air temperature at that altitude was still a bone-chilling minus fifteen degrees. It was hard enough keeping hold of Blayne against the vacuum of air pulling her away. When she added in the drop in temperature and the loss of cabin pressure to the mix, Alexi wasn’t sure how long she could remain like this. Her heart was racing and her body was pumped full of adrenalin, but she knew this burst of energy wouldn’t last long.

She winced against the pain in her ears as she stared in horror at the hole. It seemed enormous. So much blue sky. Ceiling panels hung down, swinging wildly in the turbulence. Ohi gamoto. This plane will never land like this. Alexi was fairly certain of that, yet it did not deter her from her efforts to save the woman whose weight was straining her shoulder unbearably.

There was less general panic around her now, though both toddlers just ahead of her were still howling. People were grabbing for the masks, putting them on, checking for injuries. Alexi couldn’t hear what anyone was saying over the roar of air from behind her. She glanced up the aisle and squinted against the bits of flotsam still swirling about them, but saw no help forthcoming. The flight attendants were busy elsewhere, it seemed, and for the moment it was every man or woman for herself.

Without warning, the plane abruptly tilted downward at an angle much too steep to be safe, and Alexi and Blayne were both thrown forward. Blayne slid a few feet down the floor of the aisle, and Alexi strained against her seat belt.

She managed to brace herself against the seatback in front with her right hand while still keeping her grip on Blayne, but the muscles in her left arm trembled from the strain. She braced her legs to keep Blayne from sliding farther as the unhampered pull of gravity sent her stomach into her throat, like she was on some crazy free-fall amusement park ride. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the screams of the other passengers as Flight 23 hurtled toward the earth.

The downward pitch of the plane was so severe that Alexi was certain the pilots had lost control, that they were done for. God help us. It had been many years since she had been to church, but she found herself repeating prayers she’d learned as child to Agios Dimitrios, patron saint of Thessaloniki.

Just when it seemed they could not possibly make it, the Airbus began to pull out of the dive, the engines straining, and Alexi realized it was suddenly easier to breathe. The screams and the panic around her subsided as the plane leveled off, but even over the roar of air, Alexi could hear the mother four rows ahead, her wail nearly equal to those of her toddler boys.

Blayne was still out cold, and Alexi was beginning to lose feeling in the hand that anchored her. She wasn’t sure how much longer her back and shoulder would hold out, either.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer,” a male voice boomed over the loudspeaker. Very composed, Alexi thought, under the circumstances, though it was hard to hear over the noise of air. “Please remain calm. Don’t panic. Stay in your seat, with your seat belt fastened. You shouldn’t need your oxygen masks now. The flight attendants will be coming around—let them know if anyone is injured. We’ll be landing shortly.”

And indeed Alexi just then spotted a male flight attendant, a thin, sandy-haired man in his late twenties, making his way toward her, checking on passengers as he did. He seemed harried, but efficient and reassuring. When he got near enough to see Blayne in the aisle, and Alexi holding on to her, he started toward them.

He was about even with the lavatories when he spotted the hole. His eyes widened and his steps faltered. Completely awestruck, he stared open-mouthed at the spectacle for a moment, then recovered his composure enough to reach for the in-flight phone nearby.

After a brief conversation, presumably relaying the extent of the damage to those in the cockpit, he resumed his trek toward Alexi and Blayne. The vacuum effect from the hole had decreased considerably, but he still gripped the seats on either side to anchor himself.

“Has she been out the whole time?” he asked as he reached Blayne.

“Yes.” Alexi answered. They both had to shout even at that near distance to be heard over the din.

He glanced up again at the hole and the carnage of twisted metal around it. Alexi could see a slight tremor in his lip when he spoke. “What happened? Do you know?”

Before she could answer, the young man glanced around as though he’d just realized what—or rather who—was missing. “Have you seen Brenda? Your flight attendant? She’s tall, brown hair?”

“Gone. I am sorry,” Alexi told him. “She was standing right where the bomb went off.”

“Shit!” His hands began to shake, and he stared at the hole again. “A bomb did that? You sure?”

“I’m a U.S. Marshal. I am pretty sure.” Alexi tilted her head toward Blayne. “Help me get her up and buckled in here, next to me.”

The first things Blayne became aware of were arms supporting her, encircling her, and the fact that she had a whale of a headache. When the arms loosened their grip, she opened her eyes to find a young man’s face before her. Unfamiliar. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Am I? She felt…sore. Bruised. And cold. I’m freezing. She saw a small piece of paper go flying by. Became aware of how noisy it was. What the…? It registered, finally, that something was very, very wrong. Blayne turned around and at first her mind refused to accept what she was seeing. All she knew, all she could focus on, was that Agent Topping wasn’t where he was supposed to be. So she needed to find him. Her hand reached automatically for her seat belt to unfasten it.

Alexi could see from Blayne’s glazed expression that she was disoriented and clamped a hand on her arm to prevent her rising from her seat.

The grip on Blayne’s arm—the simple human touch—helped ground her, orient her to the reality of her situation. She looked back at the hole, disbelieving. I really am on an airplane with a big-ass fucking hole in it. One big enough to drive a truck through. I’m not just dreaming this. She came fully awake and fully aware then. Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Her heartbeat sped up and she felt as though there was a sudden weight on her chest.

How the hell are we still in the air? She realized she had regained consciousness just in time to experience what was probably a very scary way to die. We surely can’t stay up much longer like this. Any minute now and we’re going to fall right out of the sky.

“Are you all right?” the man repeated.

Blayne turned back to gape at him as though he’d just asked the most ridiculous question possible. “All right? All right?” she was shouting, and just on the verge of hysteria. “How the hell can anybody be all right? We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

She fought the panic that clutched at her body and mind, swelling up in her like a poison in her bloodstream. I’m about to become fish food. Her insides rolled and churned.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to be sick.”

A bag appeared in front of her just in time, held by the young man, and Blayne lost the contents of her stomach into it. Hunched over in the seat, she felt a hand on her back, a comforting hand, a soft caress of reassurance, and Blayne looked up to find…her.

There was strength and reassurance in the vivid blue eyes she met, and Blayne sure needed a big dose of that right now.

“It is a lot to take in,” Alexi said reassuringly, continuing her caresses along Blayne’s back. “But we seem to have stabilized, and the pilot just announced we will land soon.”

“That’s the last thing I remember,” Blayne said, her mind working to fill in the blank spot in her memory. “Looking at you.”

“I remember, too.”

“If I hadn’t paused just then…” Blayne turned back toward the hole. Right where I was sitting. I should be dead. I would’ve been, a minute later. Or a few minutes earlier. She struggled to breathe. Her heart was suddenly pounding furiously against the walls of her chest.

Alexi could almost see the wheels turn as Blayne’s mind cleared and she began to realize that the hole was caused by a bomb, meant for her, and that the agent protecting her was gone. Dead.

Steven, the flight attendant, absented himself to dispose of the sick bag just as the first officer’s voice vied once more with the intercom static.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to make an emergency landing in Colorado Springs. Please remove all sharp objects from your person. Glasses, pens, pencils. Then assume the brace position.”

Alexi took deep, regular breaths to try to remain as calm and focused as possible. If they made it out of this alive, she would have to come up with a plan, and fast, to keep Blayne safe. But she had no control over her the runaway beat of her heart. It was certain they were about to die, and it was making itself known with such force in her chest that she could do no thinking at all at the moment.

Blayne listened and followed along, as did the woman next to her. In the din of the rushing air, she had to concentrate intently to make out the instructions and in an odd way that helped keep her calm.

“Tighten your seat belt. Bend forward as far as possible, with your head touching the seat back in front of you. Hands one on top of each other, on top of your head. Don’t interlock your fingers. Tuck your forearms in against each side of your face. Now angle your lower legs behind your knees. Okay. Stay like that, and try not to tense up. Here we go.”

Blayne held her breath and closed her eyes, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. It’s going to break up when we land. We’re too close to the damn hole. She grabbed automatically for the comfort of her Catholic school upbringing. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…