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  Jenny inventoried the forward and mid galleys and was satisfied that they were catered and supplied properly. There were an abundance of premium meals and desserts, and lots of goodies for the kids. She went to the video cabinet and loaded the movie racks with the latest releases, including several for the youngsters. She sent Heather and one of the other girls to the rear of the airplane to check the emergency equipment and to secure the galleys. There was nothing more embarrassing than having a galley drawer slide open and crash to the floor during takeoff. Each door and each drawer had a rotating bar that could be positioned to keep them securely closed.

  The two girls went chattering through the empty rear portion of the plane checking fire extinguishers, oxygen bottles, megaphones, first aid kits, and flashlights. When they reached the rear galley, they began checking all the drawer locks while talking about the fact that neither had ever been to the Azores and what they must be like. When they were satisfied that everything was closed up tight, they went back to the front.

  Jenny asked, “Is everything ready back there?”

  Heather answered, “Yeah, it’s all buttoned up. Did you know one of the johns is blocked off?”

  “No, which one?”

  “The one on the left in the very back.”

  “It’s not in the cabin logbook. The last crew must have forgotten to write it up.”

  “I don’t know, but the door is taped up and has an out of order sign on it.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll see what Colt wants to do.”

  Jenny walked into the cockpit and said, “Colt, let me see if I’ve got this right. You like beef with one sugar and no milk with your chicken. Is that correct?”

  “Ms. Kramer, need I remind you that I have two armed federal officers at my disposal, and you are flirting with charges of interfering with a flight crewmember in the performance of his duties. I suggest you take notes if your memory is failing you in your advanced years.”

  “My sincere apologies, Your Honor. We have a lavatory blocked off in the back cabin. Did anyone tell you that?”

  “No, it’s not in our book.”

  “It’s not in mine either. Somebody screwed up. What should we do?”

  “Well, we’re going to be ready to close the door in about five minutes, and we’ve got seven other toilets. I’ll get it fixed if you want, but with only forty-six people I’m not sure it’s worth the delay.”

  “No, we don’t need it. I just wanted you to know it’s out of service. I’ll put it in the cabin logbook if that’s okay.”

  “That would be great, Jenny. I’ll get somebody to check it out when we land.”

  “Okay, can I get you guys anything?”

  “Heather already beveraged us, but thanks. By the way, I’m going to leave the cockpit door open for the entire flight. If anyone wants to come up and visit, they’re welcome anytime. I’ll mention it on the PA.”

  As Jenny left, the agent walked in with the final paperwork.

  “Forty-six and zero. Gentlemen, any last words?”

  Colt said, “Check with the flight attendants. You know women always have to get the last word.”

  “I hear you, captain. I understand all of you are volunteers. The rest of us want you to know we appreciate what you’re doing.”

  Colt answered, “It was either this or a TV dinner at home by myself.”

  The agent laughed.

  “We still appreciate you guys, have a good trip.”

  Glenn put the final numbers in the computer and checked the center of gravity and stabilizer setting. They watched the entrance door light blink out and they were ready to go. As they waited for the stairs to be moved away, Glenn said, “Looks like the vultures came out to film our departure.”

  Colt looked up to see a satellite truck and a news crew parked on the road outside the security fence.

  “How do they find out everything that goes on?”

  Rick said, “They must have spies in every department of the airline and law enforcement.”

  “Well, since they took the time to come out, I guess we should try to look good for the cameras.”

  When the tug driver came on the interphone, Colt requested that they push him straight back and let him make the turn out under power. A few minutes later, he set the brakes, and Glenn started all three engines while the tug disconnected and drove away. He returned the agent’s salute and then waited for him to clear the area. The flight number had been assigned appropriately as One-Eleven, like a continuation of Flight Eleven. When they were ready to taxi, they could see the cameraman standing next to the fence with the camera on his shoulder and a reporter with a microphone standing next to him. Colt pointed the nose right at them, turned all the landing lights on high beam, and taxied straight at them as far as he dared. When he turned, he did a one-eighty, pointed the tail at them, lightly held the brakes, ran the two wing engines up to about half power, and created a horizontal tornado. As they taxied away, he said, “Stay tuned for further developments.”

  At the ramp exit, Glenn called ground control.

  “Ground, Tri Con Triple One on the north ramp with information Kilo.”

  “Tri Con Triple One roger. Are you the Flight Eleven recovery flight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can you use Runway Eight Right for departure?”

  Glenn looked at Colt, and he gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Affirmative. That would save us a long taxi.”

  “Roger, Tri Con Triple One, turn right on Alpha, taxi to Runway Eight Right, hold short of Eight Left at the end.”

  “Triple One, right on Alpha hold short of Eight Left. Thank you, sir.”

  “No problem. Expect an immediate departure at the end.”

  Colt said, “I didn’t see this coming. Rick, sit the girls down quick and then run the taxi checklist.”

  As they approached the end of the taxiway, Jenny reported that they were ready for departure. Just as Colt was slowing for the turn, ground control came back on the frequency.

  “Tri Con Triple One, cross Runway Eight Left, contact the tower on one-nineteen-five.”

  “Triple One cleared to cross Eight Left and nineteen-five thanks again.”

  “Bring them home safe, guys.”

  “Will do.”

  Colt continued the taxi, and Glenn changed frequencies.

  “Tower Tri Con Triple One with you.”

  “Triple One, are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tri Con Triple One, I have an amended clearance. Are you ready to copy?”

  “Affirmative, go ahead.”

  “ATC clears Tri Con Triple One direct Boston, then as filed. Climb and maintain flight level two three zero, and you’re cleared for immediate takeoff.”

  Glenn read back the clearance as Colt turned onto the runway and pushed the throttles up. When Glenn thanked the tower for the direct clearance, the controller replied, “That’s the best we could do from here. Boston will work with the Canadians to get you something direct when you get there.”

  With so few passengers and no cargo, the airplane was much lighter than a normal flight. The takeoff run was short, and the climb was quick. Once they contacted Atlanta center, they were cleared to cruise altitude without delay. Colt realized how much work and coordination had gone into the unprecedented direct clearance, and it made him proud to be part of the aviation community. There were hundreds of airplanes in the air between Atlanta and Boston and four air traffic control centers, but they had somehow worked together to clear every conflict to make the clearance possible. Climbing through eighteen thousand feet, he flipped the seat belt sign off and picked up the PA. He announced the flying time of seven hours and explained the time zone difference and the weather they could expect. He elaborated on the clearance they had received and what it meant in terms of respect for their family. He added that it was the kind of thing that would never be reported on the news because it would not sell a product. Lastly, he invited anyone who would l
ike to visit the cockpit to come up any time as his honored guest. It was against the rules, of course, but it was his way of also paying respect. He would deal with the consequences if it came to that.

  Ray stood up in the tiny lavatory and tried to stretch his legs. His entire body was becoming stiff from inactivity, and even though he was short and thin, there was barely enough room to turn around in the small room. He had heard the flight attendants talking about the Azores before takeoff and wished he had paid more attention in geography class. No matter where the Azores Islands were located, it would be better than Atlanta and the police. Later he had listened as the captain made his PA announcement and was disheartened to learn that he would be trapped in the toilet for seven hours. He was confused by the talk of special clearance and open cockpit, but he assumed he had chosen some sort of unique charter flight to stowaway on.

  Ray was careful to remain as silent as possible, but there had been very little activity in the galley area. That worried him. He had listened as the girls preflighted the galley, and he had heard them talking again when they sat in the seats by the door for takeoff, but then nothing at all. They were not cooking meals or serving drinks, and no one had used any of the other restrooms in the rear of the airplane. They had been airborne for almost an hour, and he had not heard any activity at all. The only explanation he could think of was that the passenger load must be very light, and everyone was seated up front. He hoped that was the case, and that it would lessen the chances of him being discovered. Once they landed, he would wait until everyone left, then leave the airplane and make his escape. With his Tri Con uniform and ID, he should be able to bluff his way off the airport and disappear into civilian life. For now he could relax. His only concerns were the hunger pains he felt. There was water to drink in the lavatory, but he had not had food since breakfast. He would just have to tough it out. He had removed his tool belt and placed it in the sink to keep it from making noise when he moved around.

  He stretched as best he could and then sat down and leaned his head back to try to sleep.

  Charlie could not sleep. The women and children had been given the crew’s berths, and everyone else tried to stretch out on the deck, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the dark water in the landing lights or the man with a broken neck in the passenger seat. Most of the people who had chosen to rest on the exterior decks were on the open fantail at the back of the ship. Charlie decided to take a walk and try to clear his mind. He held on to the rail and moved forward along the main deck, keeping as much weight as possible off his tightly wrapped ankle. His white uniform shirt was smudged and hardly recognizable, but the warm salty wind on his face felt refreshing. The mess deck was located at mid-ship, and, when he passed the open hatch, he could see a few passengers and Karuk crew sitting at the tables drinking coffee. He considered joining them but didn’t feel up to answering the questions he knew they would ask. He continued forward in the dim light provided by the sparse deck lights and stopped to lean on the rail and watch the foaming water slide alongside. He thought of Pattie and wondered where she was and what she was thinking.

  He sensed that he was not alone and glanced forward toward the bow. Near the front of the ship, he saw Tony Johnson and Britt Fowler sitting on an equipment locker and holding hands while they quietly talked. It was hard to imagine anything good resulting from the tragedy they had all experienced, but maybe there was an exception. He felt like an intruder and moved back toward the mess deck. When he came to the starboard stairs, he decided to climb them and visit the bridge. Each step was a challenge, and his progress was slow and deliberate, giving him cause to consider his handicapped passengers and how much he had come to admire their perseverance and ability to deal with adversity. He was welcomed by Captain Maxwell and provided with hot coffee.

  “Who is the enamored couple using my bow for a rendezvous?”

  Charlie smiled, “I’m afraid that’s my first officer and lead flight attendant. I hope they’re not breaking Navy regulations.”

  Maxwell laughed, “I’m sure they’re discussing official business.”

  Charlie looked around the bridge and saw the navigation equipment, radar, helmsman, and radios. He thought that he and Maxwell had a lot in common. They basically did the same things, but Maxwell did it at fifteen knots and Charlie did it at six hundred. In some ways, Charlie envied the leisurely pace, but he knew he could never adapt to it. Ten miles a minute was the pace that he liked to think at, and even that seemed slow and unchallenging sometimes. In the distance, Charlie could see the lights of another ship and asked about it.

  Maxwell said, “The British finally made an appearance. That’s one of their aircraft carriers, which will be plowing around the eastern portion of the grids in hopes of recovering more debris from the airplane. International diplomacy dictates that they do something to make us indebted to them in the future. It’s an endless game played out by childish world politicians everyday.”

  Maxwell excused himself to return to his cabin and do the reports generated by the day’s activities, but he invited Charlie to relax in the command chair on the bridge as long as he cared to. The big leather chair was comfortable, and Charlie sat there watching the bow slowly rise and fall in the darkness until fatigue finally overtook him, and he fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Flight Triple One was streaking up the east coast of the United States at eighty-five percent of the speed of sound. Point eight five Mach at 39,000 feet equaled six hundred and forty-two miles per hour ground speed when the prevailing westerly wind was added. With the clearance of a lifetime, Colt poured the speed on and gave not one thought to Tri Con’s fuel conservation concerns. He intended to repay the air traffic controllers’ courtesy by clearing the airways for other flights as quickly as possible. Each time the controllers handed them off to the next sector, they did so with the request that their best wishes be passed along to the Flight Eleven crew.

  In addition to setting speed records, Colt was hosting the passengers who visited the cockpit. He entertained the kids by testing the various warning systems and causing horns, bells, and lights to activate. At the speed they were flying, the sun quickly faded behind them in the west. They watched as a dome of darkness steadily rose in the eastern sky as the curved shadow of the earth interceded with the sun. History recorded another day over the northeastern United States. The combination of the earth’s rotation and the airplane’s speed would result in a very short night.

  Jenny had decided that eight flight attendants were far too many in the one cabin and sent four of them on break. She, Heather, and the two others served beverages, then the main dinner meal, and then dessert. Afterwards, they dimmed the main cabin lights so that people could sleep or watch movies as they chose. Pattie and Melissa selected a chick flick to watch, but after two days of sporadic sleep at best, they both were in la la land ten minutes after the opening credits.

  By the time the flight crossed the coast of Newfoundland and headed out over the Atlantic, most of the passengers had reclined their seats and covered themselves with blankets to sleep. The notable exception was the two FBI agents in the last row of business class. They had their briefcases out and papers spread in order to prepare for the upcoming interviews.

  The flight attendants picked up the food trays and put them away. They now had little to do until the breakfast service just before landing. The flight was scheduled to land at approximately eight a.m. local time on Terceira Island. Jenny and Heather sat on the flight attendant folding seat at the one left door and discussed the incredible events of the last few days. They tried to imagine how the Flight Eleven girls had handled the horrific emergency and looked forward to hearing their story firsthand. Their conversation was interrupted when Colt came out of the cockpit.

  “Are you two still conspiring against me?”

  “Your name came up once or twice.”

  Colt laughed. “I won’t make further inquiries. Carry on, ladies. I’m going
to get my beauty rest for an hour before I deliver you safely to the islands.”

  “Don’t disturb my passengers. I just got them tucked in,” Jenny said.

  When they approached the midpoint of the flight, Jenny woke up the girls on break and then called the group together in the mid galley. She laid out her duty plan for the remainder of the flight. She told Heather and the other girls going on break that they would not be needed until preparation for landing, and, therefore, could plan on sleeping until thirty minutes before touchdown. That sounded like a great plan to Heather, but it was her custom to read in order to help her fall asleep. She informed Jenny, “I’m going to read my cheap novel for awhile before I sleep. I’ll go to the rear cabin so I can turn on the reading light at the seat without disturbing anyone, and then I’ll stretch out in the middle row and snooze. Wake me up when you need me.”

  On her way to the back she stopped and spoke to the FBI agents, “Can I get you gentlemen anything before I go on break?”

  John Lehman answered, “No, thanks. We know where the coffee pot and the cups are, and that will keep us going. We’re almost done anyway, and hopefully we can get some sleep too.”

  When she moved into the dimly lit tourist cabin, she saw Colt stretched out in the first long row of middle seats, sleeping. She quietly walked all the way to the back of the airplane and sat down in the last row. The reading light above the seat was perfect, and she opened the paperback and removed her bookmark. It occurred to her how strange it was to be sitting in a cabin with over two hundred empty seats. She remembered the ghost stories she had heard as a kid and looked around to make sure she was alone. Those thoughts receded as she read the novel and tried to predict the direction the plot would take next. When she became aware of activity at the front of the cabin, she looked up to see one of the flight attendants giving the wake-up call to Colt. A glance at her watch told her she had invested an hour of her break in the novel. She calculated that she still had two hours to sleep and forced herself to close the book. Both Colt and the flight attendant had disappeared into the forward cabin, and Heather decided to ensure two hours of uninterrupted sleep by visiting the restroom before tucking herself in.