by Richard Bard
A few minutes later the guard rose and disappeared into the tiny bathroom.
As soon as the door closed, Ahmed was on his feet and rushing like a crouched ninja toward the other guard. My sister grabbed my hand and we both squeezed hard. Ahmed reached under the sleeping guard’s seat and pulled out the leather satchel. The hypodermic we’d noticed earlier was still protruding from its side pocket. Ahmed grabbed it and squirted its contents into the steaming teapot. He was about to replace it in the bag when he hesitated, glancing first at the sleeping guard and then at the closed bathroom door. Sarafina squeaked and I held my breath, praying he’d stick to the plan and hurry back. Instead, Ahmed rummaged around inside the satchel and pulled out a vial. He stuck the vial with the hypo and filled it up, doing it in such a practiced way that I was reminded he’d spent several years in a mental institution, where I suspected he’d seen it done hundreds of times. When the hypo was full, he squirted the contents into the pot. Finally, he replaced the hypo, vial, and satchel, and was back under our blankets five seconds later. He wrapped his hands around ours and I could feel the rapid pounding of his pulse.
“They could die with that big of a dose,” Sarafina whispered.
“How do you know that?” Ahmed said.
“Well, I don’t know for sure, but it seemed like a lot.”
“Too much is better than not enough,” Ahmed said. “And if they die, they deserve—”
“Holy crap,” a voice said from across the aisle, startling all of us. The man had turned to face us. He was in his late twenties, but he still had a few pimples on his chin. His forehead had a bruised lump. It was Dad’s good friend who worked with Doc at some top secret government facility. Dad sometimes referred to him as a “whiz kid.” If it hadn’t been for him, Dad wouldn’t have ever come out of his coma.
“Uncle Timmy?” Sarafina blurted out.
“Shhh,” Ahmed and I said in unison, checking to make sure the sleeping guard hadn’t heard.
“Jeez, kids,” Timmy said, rubbing his eyes with his cuffed hands. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”
“Do you know where we are?” Ahmed asked.
“Not sure,” Timmy said, blinking as if to shake off the drug he’d apparently been given. He remained reclined, pointing at the guard. “Last time I came to, they drugged me again, but not before I realized where I was. They were transferring me from a private jet to this rig at the Kansai International airport in Kyoto, Japan. You guys were probably on the jet with me.”
“Japan,” Sarafina gasped. Tears gathered in her eyes.
I felt like a sharp icicle was slowly pushing through my stomach. We were so far away from home. How could Mom and Dad ever find us way out here?
Ahmed sagged beside me and I sensed his internal battle to maintain his composure. It was situations like this that usually sent him into a rant. But he kept his mouth shut, as if he knew we were depending on him for strength. That made it easier for me to close the drawer on my fear. We all needed to be strong.
I focused my thoughts and projected an umbrella of calmness over all four us, kind of like I did to help Mississippi Mike.
After a moment, I felt Sarafina find her center. She sniffled and pulled the blanket up to wipe her eyes. “We were drugged, too,” she said. “Back in California. We woke up a while ago but they didn’t drug us again.”
Timmy’s brow creased. “Maybe that means we’re close to our destination. If I knew which direction we’re flying—”
“Southwest,” I said, and everyone stared at me. I was used to that. I learned a lot of things on the Web that I didn’t bother telling anyone about, so it usually surprised people—well, except my dad—when I pulled one of them out of a drawer in my head. “I saw the stars out the small window by the bathroom.” I could tell our direction by the location of the Big Dipper in relation to the North Star.
“Isaac Newton’s got nothin’ on you, kid,” Timmy said. “Unfortunately, though, that means we’re somewhere over southern China.” He glanced toward the rear of the plane. “Where’s Tony?”
“Huh?” my sister said. “You mean Uncle Tony?”
My skin tingled.
“Yeah, I saw him during the transfer,” Timmy said. “He was still unconscious. There were others with him but they were covered up.”
Sarafina gasped. “Maybe Mom and Dad were with him.”
“Maybe,” Timmy said. “But your dad isn’t an easy guy to take down.”
“Doc was with Dad,” Ahmed said. I’d told him and my sister about the unexpected visit at the VA hospital.
“That’s great news,” Timmy said with sudden eagerness. “I was hoping they hadn’t taken Doc at the same time they grabbed me. If he flew to see your dad, he went to warn him, which means Jake would’ve been on his guard. I pity the dudes that tried to nab him, especially if he thought you guys were in danger.”
A flicker of hope made my pulse race.
“Mom sent out the warning text,” Sarafina said hesitantly.
Nobody said anything for a moment, and from their grim expressions I suspected we were all thinking the same thing: Mom had been alone when she’d sent the text and she hadn’t been at the arcade to meet us like she was supposed to. Dad might’ve been free, but she wasn’t.
Timmy’s expression hardened. “Your dad saved my life. Hell, he’s saved countless lives, and you can bet that he will move heaven and earth to find you and your mom and Tony, too.” He looked us over one at a time. “In the meantime, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
I found myself nodding, seeing a little of my dad in his determined expression. I’d seen it before in Dad’s other friends. “Thank you,” I muttered.
“Tony and your mom must be on the second plane,” Timmy said.
“Second plane?” Ahmed asked.
“Another C-130. It was on the tarmac in Japan.”
“So we’ll see them soon?” Sarafina said. “And then escape together?”
Ahmed’s lips tightened. “No. Even if they are on their way to the same place we’re going, there will definitely be an army of guards waiting for us. That’ll make it impossible to escape. Our best chance is here and now, which means we’re on our own.” He hesitated before adding. “And our plan will work.”
Timmy’s face scrunched up. “Plan? What—?”
The bathroom door started to swing open and Timmy quickly rolled back to his original position. We stopped talking and pretended to sleep, but I watched through my eyelashes as the guard poured himself a cup of tea. He took a sip, and Sarafina and Ahmed tensed at the same time. I wasn’t the only one peeking.
The guard nudged his sleeping partner, tapping his watch. The man nodded begrudgingly, stretching as he rose to his feet. He donned a wireless headset and spoke into the microphone, then pulled two covered mugs from a cabinet and filled them from the pot. A moment later the elevated flight-deck door opened and the copilot reached down to accept the freshly brewed tea.
Chapter 5
Fujian Province
UNDER THE BLANKET, Sarafina’s hand was poking Ahmed’s leg faster than a woodpecker digging through bark.
“I know, I know,” Ahmed whispered.
I could feel their fear. Drugging the guards was one thing. But drugging the pilots...
“You have to do something!” Sarafina said.
“Not yet.” Ahmed shifted beneath the blanket, and I could tell he was getting ready to charge out of his chair.
“What the heck’s going on?” Timmy whispered, twisting around just enough to be heard.
“Don’t move,” Ahmed ordered under his breath. “You’ll distract them.”
The crew door closed and the guard with the headset grabbed a mug for himself. He was filling it when the first guard swayed to one side, rubbing his eyes and saying something to his partner. The guy punched him gently in the shoulder as if to say he should buckle up. Then the guard with the headset turned in our direction. Sarafina and I both flinched a
nd the man looked at us hard. I saw hate in his eyes.
He still hadn’t taken a sip from his mug.
The guard behind him swayed again, this time setting down his cup of tea to brace himself against the wall.
If the first guard turns around and notices...
My mind whirled.
What would Dad do?
“Hey, jackass!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “We’re thirsty, too.”
Ahmed and Sarafina gawked at me. I hardly ever shouted and the bad word felt strange coming out of my mouth.
The guard stormed forward. “What did you call me?”
I cowered just enough to keep him from slapping me like he had my sister, but the guard behind him collapsed to the floor so I had to keep his attention on me. “You’re mean!” I said, doing my best to act like a kid my mom and I saw throwing a tantrum at the mall. “I’m thirsty and I want some tea.” I scowled at him and tried stomping my feet, but my legs were too short to reach the ground so all I managed was to paddle my legs under the blanket.
He seemed amused, and I used that unguarded moment to throw my mind toward his and fill it with feelings of thirst.
He leered at me, and I felt like a mouse trapped by a cat. But he raised the cup to his lips and slurped, his gaze locked on mine. I frowned and he tipped the mug further, taking in several swallows. Finally, he smacked his lips and flipped the mug upside down. One last drop fell to the floor.
“After we land, I am going to personally teach you some manners,” he said.
“You’ll not touch my brother,” Ahmed said.
The man’s expression went cold as he stepped forward and backhanded Ahmed across the face. Ahmed’s head snapped to one side. But instead of backing down, he sat up straighter and jutted out his jaw, his defiant expression daring the man to hit him again. The guard’s face flushed. He cocked his arm to strike but his movements had slowed. The first guard had collapsed in less than a minute and he’d only taken a few sips. This man had consumed an entire mug.
The swing came but Ahmed dodged it, throwing off the blanket as he used the man’s momentum to push him to one side. The guard stumbled but kept his footing. He spun around too fast and blinked rapidly as he struggled to maintain his balance. There was a brief look of shock when he realized Ahmed was standing before him with no wrist cuffs. The guard’s hands were halfway to his holstered pistol when Ahmed let out a sharp kiai and planted a front kick in the man’s solar plexus, sending the guard flying to the deck. His eyes rolled and he was out.
“Quickly!” Ahmed said, grabbing the man’s pistol.
Sarafina and I jumped to our feet and used her barrette to free Timmy. “We drugged the tea,” Sarafina told him. “But the pilots may have drunk some, too!”
“Oh, crap,” Timmy said. We raced toward where Ahmed waited at the foot of the ladder leading to the flight deck. He handed Timmy the second guard’s pistol. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked.
“Kind of,” Timmy said. “This is the safety, right?” He clicked a button on the side and the magazine dropped to the floor.
Ahmed sighed. He took the pistol from Timmy and set it next to the coffee pot. “Better just leave it alone.” He placed a hand on the stepladder leading to the flight deck. “There’s only room for one of us up there anyway.”
The engine noise shifted, and I had the impression the plane had started a slight turn.
“Oh, no,” Sarafina hissed.
Ahmed tucked the pistol in his belt and put his foot on the first rung.
“Wait,” Timmy said. “Whatever you do, don’t shoot up the instruments. I may not know much about guns but I think I can fly this plane.”
“You’re a pilot?”
“Not exactly. But I’ve flown every plane in the Flight Simulator X gold edition.”
It was better than nothing but it didn’t give me much comfort.
“Praise Allah for even the smallest of blessings,” Ahmed said, exhaling deeply. His face darkened and I realized he was readying himself to do whatever was necessary to hijack the plane, even if it meant killing the pilots. He clambered up the ladder and my heart was in my throat.
With the pistol in one hand and the door lever in the other, he looked down at us and whispered, “Allahu Akbar.” Then he turned back and his hand twitched on the door lever. But it didn’t move. He tried again, the muscles of his forearm straining. Finally, he shouldered the door as hard as he could.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Get back,” he shouted as he aimed the pistol at the latch.
Timmy herded us behind the pallets. We crouched down, and a moment later I heard three quick shots. I flinched at each blast. After a moment, four more shots rang out.
“Damn it!” Ahmed shouted. He climbed back down the ladder and we ran forward to meet him. The air smelled of gunpowder, and I flashed back to the room in the underground facility on the island where Sarafina and I had been taken to force Dad to try to connect with the grid of pyramids. He’d been strapped in a chair with his head linked to a computer. Mom, Lacey, and Ahmed had arrived just in time to save us, and Ahmed had used a gun to shoot a man. It was the first time I’d ever heard or smelled a gunshot. There’d been so much blood...
“It’s no use,” Ahmed said. “The door is reinforced. We can’t get in. And there was no reaction from inside the cockpit. They’ve gotta be unconscious.”
“Then who’s flying the plane?” Sarafina said, grabbing the ladder rail as if that could help if the plane dropped from the sky.
“They must have realized they were going to pass out so they put the plane on autopilot.” He glanced out the exit door window. “We’re probably flying a racetrack pattern, like when a plane has to hold for a while because a thunderstorm is crossing the airport.” He rubbed his chin. “Assuming we’re close to our destination, we probably have about a two-hour reserve of fuel.”
“What happens when the tank is empty?” Sarafina said.
She realized right away that wasn’t the smartest question. Her face went white and Ahmed put an arm around her.
Timmy said, “We’ll figure something out. The point is, we have a couple hours to do so.” He moved to an LCD panel beside the guards’ chairs and began scrolling the screen. “I’ll bet I can pull up our position from the loadmaster’s screen.” He hesitated on one page and I saw we were flying at 140 knots at an altitude of 12,000 feet. He nodded and moved to a menu page.
While he was absorbed in the task, Ahmed and Sarafina started searching compartments. I walked to the back of the plane and grabbed my backpack. Everything was still inside, including the mini. Its leather case was the size and shape of a softball. I picked it up and it sent a tingle up my arm. After a moment, my senses felt sharper. The smells that had tangled together into a single odor before were now separated. I smelled rust, grease, oil, and fuel. I smelled the sweat on the guards’ clothing, the leftover tea, and the chemicals from the bathroom. It was the same with my hearing and my vision. I felt stronger and I liked it.
The mini’s case was rigid so I suspected the inside was lined with metal, and I imagined a felt-lined mold around the small pyramid. There was a seam around the middle. I tried to twist the two halves apart but they were stuck solid, locked somehow. Knowing how big a secret the mini was for my dad, I didn’t try to force it. It might be booby-trapped. I’d heard Mom talk about how it had killed my dad after he started using it all the time. His heart had failed and the government had performed an emergency transplant to save him. That’s why I’d taken the mini. I didn’t want him to die again.
I tossed it up in the air once or twice, enjoying the surge I felt each time I caught it.
“Hey, we found a parachute,” Ahmed yelled. He and Sarafina had opened a compartment near the back of the plane. Timmy ran over to check it out. I stuffed the mini in my pack and slung it over my shoulders as I joined them.
“That’s not for people,” Timmy said, lifting the edge of the dusty, oversized pack
. “They’re for cargo pallets.”
With an angry grunt, Ahmed slammed the lid closed and moved on to the next compartment. Sarafina slumped onto the web seating, her face buried in her hands. I went to sit beside her but she waved me away with a sniffle. She started to rock gently and I knew she was using her love of music to help her cope. I went to the exit window to look outside, but I was too short to see anything except the moon. I climbed onto the railing next to the door and leaned over to look at the ground. The moon shone through scattered clouds, but all I could make out was the silhouette of the rolling horizon. I couldn’t tell if the shadows were hills or mountains. Either way, they looked dark and scary.
The wing dipped and I realized we were making another turn in our holding pattern. The horizon rose, the shadows moving across the window as the plane banked into a turn.
“I’ve got something,” Timmy said, and Ahmed and Sarafina rushed over to join him. But an uneasy feeling made me stay put, and I kept my eyes on the sweeping view.
Timmy said, “It looks like we’re about a hundred and fifty miles from our destination.”
The wings leveled. I jumped off the rail and ran to the others. “We’re lower,” I said.
“Can’t be,” Timmy said. “The autopilot should hold our altitude—”
He saw the expression on my face. We hustled back to the LCD and brought up the page I’d seen earlier.
Airspeed: 140 knots
Altitude: 9,700 feet
“No, no, no,” Timmy said, his fingers dancing on the touch screen to bring up the plot map. “The valley ground level is 1,875 feet, but the highest peak beneath us is 4,500 feet.” He closed his eyes as he ran through the numbers. “We dropped from 12,000 to 9,700 feet. Time elapsed was about—”
