“Can you confirm that?” He looked at Val.
She nodded. “Absolutely. I ducked when I saw him come around the corner. The next thing I knew, the other gun went off. I crawled over to help the injured crew member.”
The air marshal looked at Donnie. The man swallowed hard but confirmed what Val had said. “He stopped them,” Donnie panted through his pain.
The air marshal nodded and pointed at the female flight attendant. “All right, make a call for medical assistance. I’ll be in first class and monitor the forward movement after I recruit some of those military guys flying coach to help.” The marshal pointed at Smith. “You get them secured. I’ll need a statement, and so will the UK cops. This is going to be a fucking mess. You,” he moved his gaze to Val, “as soon as medical gets here, you keep everyone out. This is a crime scene. Don’t let anyone up here for any reason.”
Val nodded and glanced at the flight attendant. He was pale and getting paler. “You hang on.”
Donnie nodded. “Cold.”
“Yes, this floor is cold.” Val smiled at him. “You’ll be okay.” She kept her eyes pinned to his. The man had grabbed her hand, and she wasn’t sure he knew he still held her. She’d seen death too many times to count. The innocent ones always tore at her. The attendant’s wound was nasty. Val had seen injuries like his kill, and unless a trauma doc was on board and willing to take chances, Donnie’s minutes were numbered.
Smith zip-tied the man under him and then the dead man. Standard procedure, although Val wasn’t sure how Smith knew to do it. According to what she’d dug up on him, he hadn’t had any official training with Guardian—or anyone else for that matter.
Smith bent down beside her and opened his hand. “Real bullets, not plastic cased.” She looked at the .40 Shorty as he continued to speak, “Less recoil than the 10mm 140 grain, but just as much stopping power.” Smith shook his head. “But they couldn’t get through that door. Not with two bullets.”
A man in his thirties sprinted into the area with the female crew member behind him. “I’m a doctor.”
Val moved out of the doctor’s way, and Donnie’s grip released as she moved. Val and Smith walked to the side of the small area. There was something she was missing. Two bullets? What did they hope to do with plastic guns that would shatter with one shot? Her eyes moved from her dead target to the man Smith had taken down, and then to Donnie and the doctor. “What would convince the crew to open up? To come out or let them in?” She nodded toward the flight deck.
Smith stood and helped her up. “It would have to be a damn good reason.”
Val grabbed his arm. “An explosive device?”
“Fuck.” Smith moved damn fast for such a big man. Val flew in the opposite direction. Val entered her target’s pod and pulled out his backpack but only found a load of crap inside. Nothing.
“Here,” Smith spoke to her, and she ran through the bulkhead to get to his pod.
“Shit. Smith, see if either of them has a remote trigger.” Val opened the backpack and stared at the device he’d found. She had no idea what she was looking at, and she’d been through Smoke’s Bomb-making 101 class. “Fuck. Smoke, I hope you’re available.”
“Nothing that could be used as a detonation device. The one who is alive isn’t talking either.” Smith leaned over her. “I could encourage him.”
“Maybe it’ll come to that, but first, I need my cell from my purse. Alert the aircrew and the marshal and get everyone to the back of the plane.”
“Can you disarm it?”
“I don’t even know if it’s armed, but I know someone who will.”
Smith nodded and grabbed the female flight attendant, urgently talking to the woman as he moved toward their seats. Val looked up at a sharp whistle, and Smith lobbed her phone to her. She caught it and turned it on. “Come on, come on.” As soon as the phone powered up, she pushed star thirteen and then pound.
On the second ring, a voice said, “CCS.”
“Sunset Operative Thirteen. I have an urgent situation. I’m on a transcontinental flight, and we have an attempted hijacking. We took out the two men involved, but they have an explosive device. I think.”
“Affirmative. Take a picture of the device and send it while I locate Smoke. Tell the aircrew not to deviate on altitude. It may be rigged to go off when you descend.”
“Fucking hell.” Val waived Smith back to her. “Tell the flight crew not to change altitude. It may be set to go off when they do.”
Smith was on it in a second, and she watched as he briefed the female cabin crew member. To give the woman credit, she didn’t hesitate to head to the phone, and she didn’t ask stupid questions.
Val sent the picture of the wires painted white. Earbuds at the end were haphazardly taped on, and wires ran into the seam of the backpack. Val picked at the hand-sewn seam and opened the fold. Shit. Was that C4? Damn it, she wished like hell she’d picked a later flight. She narrowed her eyes. How did they make it through security? She gently sat the pack down on the seat and looked up again. First class was empty, except for Smith, who was heading her way, the two hijackers, and the doctor with the injured cabin crew member.
“What do you need from me?” Smith stood next to her.
“I need Smoke to answer the damn phone.”
“I’m here.” Smoke’s voice came over the phone, and Val put him on speaker.