Chapter 5 - FIVE SECONDS OF DARKNESSNolan Price survived.
Barely.
A physician sitting in row fourteen helped stabilize him while Angela brought the emergency medical kit.
The weapon was not found.
That made everything worse.
Cole ordered nobody to move.
Technically he lacked the authority to command an aircraft cabin, but Holloway backed him.
The captain made an announcement.
“For safety reasons, all passengers must remain seated until landing.”
Nobody argued.
Not anymore.
Vale had been three feet from Price when the lights failed.
So had Cole.
So had a flight attendant.
So had two other passengers.
And so had I.
Anyone could have done it.
Price drifted in and out of consciousness.
Cole knelt beside him.
“Nolan, who did this?”
Price’s lips moved.
Nothing came out.
The doctor shook his head.
“Stop. He needs oxygen.”
I returned to Maya.
She was trembling.
“Did that man die?”
“No.”
“You promise?”
“I can’t promise that.”
She stared at me.
Emma had taught me never to lie to her about death.
Even when truth hurt.
Especially then.
“People are helping him.”
Maya nodded.
Then she whispered, “I saw somebody.”
My entire body went still.
“During the dark?”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t see.”
“The floor lights were on.”
“What did you see?”
“Shoes.”
“What kind?”
“Shiny ones.”
Half of first class wore shiny shoes.
“Anything else?”
She thought.
“A red string.”
“Where?”
“On the shoe.”
I looked around discreetly.
Business shoes.
Loafers.
Heels.
Sneakers.
Then I saw it.
A man in row 1C.
Black polished dress shoes.
Thin red laces.
He was about fifty.
Silver hair.
Expensive watch.
I had barely noticed him all flight.
That made me notice him now.
Cole followed my gaze.
“Who is he?”
“You’re the federal agent.”
Cole checked the manifest.
“Dr. Stephen Kessler.”
My stomach tightened.
I knew the name.
Not personally.
From a congressional hearing years earlier.
Kessler had been a security consultant for defense contractors.
Including Vale Strategic Logistics.
Cole’s face told me he knew too.
“Kessler.”
The man looked over.
“Yes?”
Cole approached.
“I need you to keep your hands visible.”
Kessler laughed.
“Excuse me?”
“Hands.”
Kessler held them out.
Clean.
No blood.
But blood can be wiped.
Weapons can be passed.
And five seconds can be longer than people think.
Vale spoke from behind me.
“You’re turning this cabin into a circus.”
Cole replied, “One of your employees was stabbed.”
“Former employee.”
Price’s eyes opened.
Despite the oxygen mask, he spoke.
“He fired me last week.”
Vale’s head turned.
Price lifted one trembling hand.
“You knew I was talking.”
Vale stared at him.
“To whom?”
Price looked at Cole.
Then at me.
“Not him.”
“Who?”
Price tried to answer.
His blood pressure monitor alarmed.
The doctor pushed us back.
Not him.
Meaning Price had been cooperating.
But not with Cole.
Rebecca?
Another agency?
Someone else entirely?
The aircraft descended toward Boise.
Holloway came over the intercom.
“We will be landing in approximately fourteen minutes.”
Cole leaned toward me.
“Once we land, stay with Maya.”
“That was already the plan.”
“Do not surrender the USB to anyone unless you personally see a federal warrant and confirm credentials.”
“You have the USB.”
He paused.
Then reached inside his sweatshirt.
He placed something in my palm.
The drive.
“Not anymore.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because if Shaw controls the reception team, I’ll be detained immediately.”
“You’re expecting me to trust you?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you won’t trust her either.”
Fair.
I slipped the drive into the hidden interior compartment of my prosthetic cover.
No one watching casually would see it.
Maya noticed.
She said nothing.
Smart kid.
The landing was rough.
The second wheels touched pavement, passengers applauded nervously.
Through the window I saw police vehicles.
Ambulances.
Black SUVs.
A lot of them.
Too many for one injured passenger.
The plane stopped away from the terminal.
Holloway ordered doors closed.
A voice came through his headset.
He listened.
Then looked toward me.
Rebecca Shaw was outside.
Eleven years older.
Short gray hair now.
Same posture.
Same eyes.
She wore civilian clothes beneath a dark tactical jacket.
She boarded with six agents.
Cole remained seated in row twenty-eight.
Rebecca stopped when she saw me.
“Marcus.”
“Rebecca.”
She looked at Maya.
“You must be Maya.”
Maya moved closer to me.
Rebecca’s expression softened.
“I knew your mother.”
“I know.”
Emma had met Rebecca twice.
Rebecca turned back to me.
“We need to get you off this aircraft.”
“What about everyone else?”
“They’ll be processed.”
“Processed for what?”
“A federal investigation.”
Vale stood.
“Director Shaw.”
Director.
Interesting.
Rebecca’s eyes hardened.
“Mr. Vale.”
He smiled.
“Always a pleasure.”
The hatred between them was obvious.
Too obvious.
Were they enemies?
Former partners?
Both?
Rebecca looked at Holloway.
“Where is Ethan Cole?”
“Rear cabin.”
Two agents moved.
I blocked the aisle.
“No.”
Rebecca stared.
“Marcus.”
“You texted me he was the leak.”
“He is.”
“He says you are.”
“I expected that.”
“Then show me evidence.”
“This isn’t the place.”
“It became the place when someone stabbed Price.”
Rebecca’s eyes moved toward the injured man.
Her surprise looked real.
“Nolan was stabbed?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
That bothered me.
If her team had been communicating with someone aboard, they would know.
Unless she wasn’t the one controlling the messages.
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Marcus, there are things you were never told about Mission 317.”
“So everyone keeps saying.”
“I was protecting you.”
I laughed once.
“People who say that usually mean they were protecting themselves.”
She absorbed the insult.
“You’re angry.”
“Aaron died.”
“I know.”
“I lost my leg.”
“I know.”
“You testified his notebook wasn’t recovered.”
Rebecca went still.
“Who told you about the notebook?”
“Was it recovered?”
“Marcus—”
“Yes or no?”
She looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
The admission hit harder than expected.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Aaron had discovered the identity of the person leaking routes.”
“Who?”
Rebecca looked toward Vale.
Vale smiled faintly.
For one second I thought she would name him.
Instead she said:
“Your commanding officer.”
I stopped breathing.
“Colonel Thomas Vance.”
My father.
The man whose funeral I had attended four years earlier.
The man who taught me how to shoot.
The man who pinned major’s insignia to my uniform.
Rebecca continued quietly.
“Aaron Bell believed your father was selling classified operational information.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“His notebook contained dates, account numbers, meetings.”
“No.”
“Marcus—”
“My father died with a Silver Star.”
“I know.”
“He served thirty-two years.”
“I know.”
“He would never—”
“Then help me prove Aaron was wrong.”
Behind Rebecca, Gregory Vale was watching me.
Not smug now.
Almost sympathetic.
Which made me hate him more.
Then Maya spoke.
“My grandpa wasn’t a bad man.”
Rebecca looked down.
“No one said he was, sweetheart.”
“You did.”
Children.
Always straight through the armor.
Rebecca closed her eyes briefly.
Then one of her agents returned from the rear.
“Director.”
“What?”
“Cole isn’t there.”
Rebecca looked toward the back.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s gone.”
Impossible.
The aircraft doors had been secured.
Then the flight attendant shouted from the rear galley.
Emergency exit alarm.
We all turned.
A service door stood open.
Cold Idaho air rushed inside.
A mobile stair unit had been positioned beneath it from outside.
Someone on the ground had helped Ethan Cole leave the aircraft.
And taped to the interior door was a handwritten note.
Three words.
CHECK VANCE’S LEG.
Every armed agent turned toward me.
Toward the place I had hidden the USB.
Rebecca’s face changed.
“Marcus.”
I slowly raised both hands.
“Don’t.”
One agent reached for his weapon.
Maya screamed.
May you like
And that was when I realized whoever had written that note knew exactly where I had hidden the evidence.
Which meant they had been watching me from inside the cabin.
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