Geoff rolled his shoulders and nodded toward the side of the aircraft where the explosives were sitting in a pod. “Right now, the explosives are my concern. I’ll take custody of it.” Geoff stood up and hiked up his jeans. Smith caught a glimpse of the man’s badge and the weapon that had been pointed at him earlier. A weapon that would fire a .40 Shorty.Son of a bitch.He knew where on the plane the explosives were located.
Smith dropped his arms to hang loosely at his sides, hoping to appear relaxed, although he was anything but that. “It’s surprising how anyone could get the explosives through security.” He looked at the air marshal and narrowed his eyes. “Of course, an air marshal could get that backpack full of explosives and bullets through without any issues.”
“Shit.” He heard Val’s voice just as Geoff’s eye twitched. It was the only warning Smith had, but it was enough. He lunged for Geoff when the air marshal went for his weapon. Smith caught the weapon and Geoff’s hands in both of his, his superior weight and power pushing the gun down and to the side. Smith lifted his knee and flattened Geoff’s balls and dick into pancakes. The fucker doubled over but kept hold of the gun. Holding the gun with both hands, Smith kneed the bastard repeatedly, landing his blows to the man’s gut. The gun dropped to the floor with a thud, and Smith lifted Geoff, drew back his fist, and slammed it forward, sending the man flying.
“What the hell?” The doctor was curled into a ball beside the dead attendant.
“Clear.” Smith dropped to the floor and spun the air marshal. He used one of the zip ties Geoff had been kind enough to supply and flopped the man to his stomach, zip-tying his hands together.
“Are you okay?” Val was beside him.
“Yeah.” He motioned for her to leave. The doctor didn’t need to put two and two together. She slipped back, no longer in view.
“Check his weapon.” Val’s voice in his ear echoed his thoughts.
He picked up Geoff’s weapon and dropped the clip. “.40 Shorties and two bullets are missing.” He ejected the one from the chamber. Fucking hell.
The captain made an announcement for everyone to be seated and, if possible, to wear seatbelts. Smith chuffed to himself. The two unconscious men wouldn’t be seat belted. It wouldn’t hurt them to get jostled around some.
“You got the third hijacker,” Val said. “Let’s pray that’s all there is.”
He sighed and drew several deep breaths of air, trying to still the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His heart pounded rapidly. That wasn’t his life. He was used to being the one on the wrong side of the law. Granted, he never wanted to be there, but he knew what he’d done. He knew he’d never atone for the evil he’d performed under Simmons’ control. The faces of the man and woman he’d killed simply because Simmons’ son wouldn’t make a choice flashed through his mind. He’d never forget the other faces either. The innocent ones that monster had ordered to be killed. He wiped his brow with his hand and stared at the aftermath strewn around him. He shook his head. “When you take a guy on an adventure, you pull out all the stops, don’t you?” Smith whispered as he placed the marshal’s weapon and magazine on the galley counter.
“A lady always delivers on her word,” Val quipped.
Smith felt the airspeed of the plane change. “We’re landing.” He turned to the doctor. “Doc, sit down in one of the pods and buckle up. You don’t need to be injured on landing.” The man nodded and carefully stepped over the air marshal, dropping into a pod about halfway to the main cabin.
As the plane started its descent, Smith cracked his neck and leaned against the galley. His eyes traveled from the dead bodies to the two hijackers that lived.Get ready, Smithson. The fun is just beginning.
* * *
There was a mass of confusion,anger, worry, and anxiety as the plane taxied to a parking space far from Heathrow’s terminal. The passengers at the back of the plane had reached their limit of not knowing what was going on, and the flight attendants had their hands full trying to keep order. The chaos was precisely what Val needed. She’d covered her hair in a hijab, changed her lipstick, used a liner to change the shape of her mouth, and grabbed a long black sweater from one of the pods to wrap around her. Placing her dark sunglasses on, she slipped through the curtained area and into the main cabin. People were standing, grabbing their bags, pushing, and shoving in the typical cattle car economy class drill. She slipped under a man's arm as he grabbed a briefcase out of the overhead and stood behind him. A woman a few feet ahead shoved the man in front of her because the satchel hit her on the head when he pulled it out. An attendant broke away from the entryway and tried to settle the two, but the woman was screaming that she would sue everyone. The man pushed forward, and someone threw a punch. Like mice, people scurried out of the way as best they could. Val followed people as they pressed through the middle seats to the opposite side of the aircraft. She grabbed a leather duffle from under one of the vacated seats and pushed her way into the line. When the door to the main cabin opened, police swarmed the first-class cabin. Several moved to stop the fracas as the occupants on her side were told to leave the plane.
When Val got to the door, she assessed her opportunities. There were a couple of men stringing cordons, making a staging area. The outside of the aircraft was humming with people. Shouts from responders on the ground and rapid hand movements spoke to the emotion and confusion on the ground. An attempted hijack wasn’t an everyday occurrence, especially one with a bomb still on board. The priority would be to get people out of the area. Just what Val needed.
Firetrucks circled the aircraft along with several dark sedans, their lights flashing and engines running, just outside the cordon. Val moved among the clutter of people and shed the sweater before tucking her white blouse into her black slacks and tearing off the hijab. With haste, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. A whisp caught on the device in her ear and popped it out. Val twisted to catch it, but her earpiece dropped to the tarmac. She stooped to the ground to retrieve it just as someone stepped on it.
“Damn it.” Val grabbed her passport, cell phone, and cash out of the purse, shoved it all in the pockets of her slacks, and stood up. Her gaze searched the cordon that was being hastily formed around the plane.
Her best bet was a firetruck. They’d be empty, and she needed … there. She lifted her arms and announced in her best British accent, “Everyone, please move forward. Make way for others exiting the aircraft.” She herded the crowd. “Keep moving. We’ll have transportation here in a moment.” She moved with them, giving orders and directions until she reached the cordon. Val walked up to one of the men helping to set up the containment area and demanded, “What’s the transportation status?”
“I have no idea.” The man glanced at her and wrapped yellow plastic police tape around a cone to contain the skittish crowd emerging from the aircraft.
“Give me your radio. I’ll find out.” Val extended her hand, and the man handed her his radio before rushing to stop a child from darting out from under the cordon tape. “Firetruck, Mummy!” The little boy darted away from the man Val had taken the radio from.
She ducked under the tape, walked to a different fire engine, moved behind it, then jumped into the cab. Glancing around the interior, she smiled. “Bingo.” She pulled a ball cap out from between the seats and grabbed a jacket with security badges.
Val dropped down from the cab wearing the cap and carrying the badges. As the bus arrived, she shepherded people in with another worker before sending him back to the mass of people to cull the crowd for the next bus. “Need a ride back.” She stood at the bottom step of the bus out of everyone’s view and looked up at the driver. She held up the radio that squawked with rapid commands. “Superiors needed a firsthand accounting.”
“Bloody hell, can’t they see we’re trying to sort this mess out?” the driver muttered and put the bus into gear. Val didn’t answer over the engine's roar as the bus shot forward. She exited first and darted to the terminal in the opposite direction of the crowd. She made her way to the door and slid the badge through the card reader, checking her watch for the exact time. A series of clicks later, the light turned green. Quickly, she pulled open the door and took off the hat. After pulling her hair out of the ponytail, she tucked it all under the cap, pushing the bill down to cover as much of her face as possible as she raced up the stairs. She swiped the card again and entered the departure gates. Before the door closed, she dropped the ID inside the secure area. Then Val joined the swarm of people and slipped the cap off, tossing it in a trash bin. She pulled out her passport, knowing she’d clear customs without a problem. The passport would never be used again. She had numerous caches of identity and money scattered worldwide, especially in or around major cities such as London.
At the customs checkpoint, she presented the scan code of the passport, let the facial rec scan her, and walked out. She turned the corner and merged into the small hall where limo drivers waited for their fares. She hooked left, headed to the public transportation area, and hailed a taxi.
A long hour later, she opened her hotel suite door and rushed inside. Fucking hell, she needed a new earpiece, and she needed to contact Smith. She didn’t have any spares and hoped like hell CCS could access the earpiece Smith had in his possession.
She pulled her cell out and dropped it on the bed. Taking a long breath, she let it out and began sweeping her hotel room. It was standard procedure, and breaking it could cost a life. Hers. She examined all outlets, vents, lights, and the room telephone, which she unplugged and placed in the bathroom. She’d seen too many devices hidden in base unit phones to disregard that threat. When the televisions were unplugged, she also moved them into the bathroom. Fucking hell, they needed to make those things lighter. She shut the bathroom door and went into the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind her. One final scan of the thermostat before she grabbed her phone and hit speed dial.
“Authenticate warrior.” Anubis’ command put her firmly back into her comfort zone.