“About two hours.” Val glanced at the cubbies on either side of the bulkhead where the crew for their cabin were visiting. “We need to alert the crew.”
“If we’re wrong?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It draws attention to us and has possible ramifications.”
Val put her hands on her hips and stared at the ground for a moment. “And if we don’t act, the ramifications could be horrendous for the people on this plane and possibly others. Tell me what your gut says.”
“I’ve seen this type of mannerism before. The same tension I’ve witnessed before a newb robs a convenience store or hired muscle goes up against someone they know will beat them into the ground.”
“My gut told me the other was warding, as I said. I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”
Smith nodded. “Security is tight in the flight deck area, isn’t it?”
“Improved with locked metal doors since nine-eleven,” Val confirmed.
Smith rubbed the back of his neck. “It can’t be my imagination. I’ve disassembled enough weapons to know a firing pin. It was white plastic, sturdy. Not strong enough for multiple shots, I don’t think.”
“It isn’t our imagination,” Val corrected. “The last intelligence I received about 3D printed weapons was they were good for one shot. The propulsion will shatter the plastic casing. If the bullets are hard plastic, they aren’t getting through that door. If they’re real, they somehow smuggled them through security, but still, the weapon will only be able to fire one bullet.” Val nodded to the front of the plane where the pilots were secured. “We alert the crew and find out if they have an air marshal on board.”
“Guardian?” Smith asked as he moved out of the way so a gentleman could use the restroom he was blocking.
“Only if this goes down. I can’t be in the light.” She glanced at Smith, who narrowed his eyes and knew he was patching together the information she’d told him earlier with her statement. His intelligence once again visible to anyone willing to see it.
“All right. The conversation with the crew is on me.” Smith stood aside as the elderly gentleman departed the restroom. “You’ve got my six.” The words were said as he moved to the small galley where the crew was enjoying a bit of downtime.
Val listened as Smith explained what they believed the situation to be. Mentally, she commended the crew. They flew the information straight to the flight deck, and then the woman plastered a smile on her face and headed back to get the air marshal on the aircraft for the flight.
Val caught movement in her peripheral vision. A shoulder was visible as it peeked just past the wall. Same color material as the shirt the man she’d suspected was wearing. “Smith, target’s moving.”
Val went flush against the wall and moved to the corner where she knew the man would enter the area. As she moved, she unfastened the silk Hermes scarf from her hair and wrapped it around both hands. She waited for her target to move. As one, the two men rounded the corner. Val looped her scarf over her target’s extended arm. She spun under his arm and, using her back as a fulcrum and her target’s arm as a lever, dropped to her knees. The target’s extended elbow dislocated with a wicked pop.
The dislocation’s sound was muted as the echo of a weapon discharging rang in her ears. Her target grabbed at her with his good hand. She pushed up and rammed her head under the man’s chin.Fuck. That move always hurt. She dropped again, completed a roundhouse sweep knocking her target’s feet out from under him, and dropped the fucker. She fell into her ready position only to notice her target’s neck twisted at an awkward angle. Dead.
She spun. Smith’s back was to her. The gun his target was holding was extended. The male crew member was down on the floor. He’d been shot. Someone from first class ran up her side of the aisle.
“Stop!” she yelled. “Get back.” She shoved her silk scarf into the crew member’s shirt, plugging the oozing hole in his chest. The injured man pointed at the phone. Val looked at the guy’s name tag. “Don’t worry, Donnie, I’ll alert them,” she assured him. Val glanced up in time to watch Smith’s grip contort the hijacker’s hand as the bones crunched in a dazzling display of sheer strength. His scream ripped through the air, and the gun dropped from the attacker’s mangled hand. Smith held the man’s neck in his other hand and stared at him, his grip tightening on his throat. “Smith, we need him alive. My target is dead.”
She saw the tick on the side of his face for a fraction of a second before he lowered the man to the floor, only to wrench the attacker’s arm behind him.
“Freeze! Air marshal!” A man rounded the corner with his handgun drawn. His gun moved from Val to the injured crew member and then Smith. He leveled his gun on Smith and swept the scene. The air marshal caught sight of the dead body.
“Both assailants are neutralized,” Smith spoke calmly. “We need medical attention for one of the cabin crew, and the flight deck needs to be notified of what happened.” Smith handed out the orders with aplomb that came from confidence. “Do you have flex-cuffs?”
“This is the one who saw the gun and reported it to us,” the female crew member said from behind the air marshal.
Smith held out his hand. “Give them to me, so I can secure these guys. That way, you can get back to your cabin. They might not be alone.”
“I can’t leave the flight deck area,” the air marshal said, still not lowering his weapon or giving Smith flex-cuffs.
“He’s Guardian.” Val nodded toward Smithson. “Federal agent.”
Smith shot her a side-eye glance but didn’t hesitate. “I’ve got the flight deck. See if we have anyone with medical training. Ma’am,” he said, turning his attention to the crew member behind him, “please let the flight crew know what’s going on.”
The air marshal took a few seconds to make his decision, then grabbed a plastic bag from his back pocket and tossed it to Smith. “What type of weapon did they have?”
“These two had 3D printed weapons.” Smith pointed to the one beside him and the one by the dead body.
“Did you kill him?” the marshal asked as he lowered his weapon, although his finger was still on the trigger. Val liked his caution. It was how she’d react.
“I did,” Smith admitted. “He attacked first. This one got off a shot before I could get to him.”