Skyjacked Page 3

  “Em, take a picture of us, and I’ll text it to her.”

  “Use my phone,” Tony offered.

  “Where’s Nick?” Cassie grinned for Emily and the camera.

  “Poor guy had to call in sick. You look a little pale yourself there, kid. Here, have some apple, get that blood sugar up.”

  “Granny Smith, my fave.” Cassie took a slice.

  “Emily, here, bring these outside and share them with the gang.”

  Emily was reaching for the Tupperware when a Nerf football hit her in the back of the head, and she forgot all about the apple slices. “Excuse me while I go murder Tim,” she said.

  Cassie dug into the Tupperware. “Nick never gets sick,” she said, her mouth full of apple. “What, is it like the flu or something?”

  “Food poisoning. He was pretty sure he was done vomiting, but he couldn’t get out of bed. Said he’ll stay out here another day at the hotel and sleep it off, catch a flight back to New York in time for your dad’s trip to Kyoto.”

  “He’s going again? I swear he just got back.”

  “Now, Cass,” Tony said.

  Cassie cut him off. “I know, I know, ‘Money never stops moving, so why should I?’” she said, reciting Dad’s mantra. “So, what, you’re flying solo today?”

  “I would if the FAA’d let me. It’s their job to worry what would happen if I had a heart attack midflight, but you’d know how to land us, right?” He winked.

  Tony and Nick had let Cassie hang out in the cockpit since she was a little kid. Tony was low-key about everything to the point it was unnerving. Like the time they had to fly through a lightning storm that had seemingly come from nowhere, Tony sat back nonchalantly, one hand on the steering control, humming some rock ballad. Cassie had watched him land the plane so many times by now, she was actually pretty sure she would have no problem getting the plane onto the runway without too many bumps. “Bet you I could.”

  “I know you could,” Tony said. “You’ll have to wait for your chance, though. The staffing agency sent us a replacement. She’s top-rated. I double-checked.”

  “Why? You’re worried about her?”

  “Was. You’ll see.” He tried not to smile.

  “What, is she like a narcoleptic or something?”

  “Shh, here she is.” Tony cleared his throat. “Cass, this is Sophie.”

  “Sofia,” the substitute copilot said, stepping into the cockpit, staring at the stuffed Appaloosa horse.

  “Sofia, this is my dear friend Cassie Ando, the boss’s daughter.”

  “Oh, yes, hi.” Sofia offered her hand nervously to Cassie. She was tiny, about a foot shorter than Cassie, though Cass was five-ten. Sofia looked about twelve years old. No wonder Tony had double-checked her rating.

  “Hi.” Cassie shook Sofia’s hand. Her skin was cold, and was she trembling?

  Sofia gave Cassie a smile that seemed forced, then said to Tony, “I checked the supplemental oxygen tanks, sir. Two thousand PSI.”

  “Really, Sofia, you don’t have to call me sir.”

  “The luggage hold is screwed shut tight. I watched them seal it.”

  “Cass, why don’t you make a little room there and let Sofia get to her seat. Sofia, you ever fly the B550 before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then I’ll let you do all the work today.”

  Cassie hoped she didn’t look as worried as Sofia did. Then again, Tony would never let anything go wrong.

  Reeva leaned into the cockpit. “Tony, ready to do our thing?”

  “It’s a family flight today, Reeva. I don’t think we have to worry.”

  “The protocol is the protocol,” Reeva said.

  Cassie wanted to roll her eyes. She followed Reeva and Tony out of the cockpit, to the gun safe inside the coatroom. “Man, Sofia’s really tiny,” Cassie said.

  “This way she can’t overpower me when she tries to hijack the plane, right, Reeva?”

  Reeva’s lip twitched. “Why would you even say something like that, Tony? You’re aware the country’s on high alert?”

  Cassie was so close to telling Reeva to chill out.

  Reeva turned away so she couldn’t see Tony key his pin code into the safe’s touchpad. Tony tapped the numbers, not caring if Cassie or Reeva or anybody saw, and then he made room for Reeva. “All yours,” he said.

  “Would you mind turning around, Tony, with your back to the safe?” Reeva said.

  Tony wasn’t looking anyway. He was heading back to the cockpit.

  The idea was that anybody who wanted access to the safe—and the gun—would have to know both codes. Only the pilot and security agent could get in there, and only together. This kind of security precaution made sense when Dad rented the plane to people he didn’t know, but really, one of Cassie’s friends a terrorist? Cassie knew it was Reeva’s job to be alert and maybe even suspicious, but Tony had been with the Andos for years. Reeva had been with the family only a few weeks.

  “Cassie, take your seat, please,” Reeva said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She saluted and left Reeva to enter in her supersecret code.

  MICHELLE

  9:35 p.m. ET (7:35 p.m. MT)

  Coltsville, Virginia, NATIC

  Major Serrano and the NATIC research team hadn’t given up on Michelle after her tragic failure in Texas, even if it was hypothetical. Instead they’d assigned her roles in some pretty solid projects—nothing on the level of the Kappock simulation but important nonetheless.

  Mostly she checked passenger lists of planes that exhibited suspicious flight patterns or sudden altitude changes. With the major’s permission and her research security clearance, Michelle could tap into the Center’s FBI and NSA intel pools, but she preferred trying social media first. That’s what 90 percent of the FBI’s databases were anyway, open-source information from Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat.

  Getting the info directly from the platform feeds had a downside: The intelligence agencies hadn’t analyzed it yet. The upside was the information was raw and therefore pure. Michelle’s job was to determine which passengers had grievances so big they might want to hijack or crash a plane. On the bigger flights, there were always two or three or sometimes more people who were haters or very strident in their political opinions, but of course none of these people ever acted on their feelings. The pilot always corrected the plane’s flight path or followed ATC’s directions. Still, it was good to have the passenger information on hand.

  At first some of the older researchers scoffed at Michelle’s use of social media, but they couldn’t argue with the results. Michelle Okolo often found what the team needed before anyone else. She never gloated, though. She offered the information humbly, quietly, in the hope she’d earn the senior staff’s respect. Even now, almost at the end of her internship, she wasn’t sure how people felt about her. Today was her second-to-last day at NATIC, and she’d begun to clean out her desk.

  Major Serrano was approaching Michelle’s cubicle.

  Michelle wondered when or if she should ask the major for a recommendation. Without that letter, Michelle’s chances of an appointment to the academy were the same as any other candidate’s with her resume, which was to say less than 10 percent.

  “I’ll need you to stand by at your desk for a bit,” the major said. “Don’t go anywhere, all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The threat assessment window at the bottom of Michelle’s display began to blink red. Great, Michelle thought. Another stress test.

  JAY

  7:45 p.m. MT

  In the Ando family’s airborne B550 SE-11 jet

  The takeoff was so smooth Jay almost didn’t feel the plane leave the runway. He was surprised, but he shouldn’t have been. He’d looked up the plane’s specs online, back in New York, before he had to board it for the first time.

  The B550 SE-11, or Barracuda 550 Special Edition #11, was known to be a luxurious ride. Okay, so with a cruising speed of 520 mph, it wasn’t
the fastest plane, but from takeoff in Hollow Brim, Idaho, to touchdown at the private airport in Teterboro, New Jersey, would be a none-too-shabby four hours. In the safety category the B550 ranked first in its class. The autopilot software was so advanced the plane could land itself, even on water. The plane manufacturer didn’t need to advertise this feature, as far as Jay was concerned. It was in no way reassuring.

  The plane had room for thirty seats, but Cassie’s dad had it set up with just ten, recliners that folded out into beds, as Brandon and Cassie were demonstrating.

  There was a full-size dining table and a gaming area built around a wall-size TV. Tim was playing a creepy game where a monster plucks weeds and tries to trade them with this elfy-looking lady for who knew what.

  The kitchenette was stocked with ridiculous amounts of gourmet food, candy, designer soda, and ice cream. The windows had touchscreens built into them so you could darken the glass to dial down the glare, which Jay did. The cabin was pure luxury. So why was he on edge? There wasn’t any turbulence, yet something wasn’t quite right.

  Emily brought him a chamomile tea. “It’ll calm your stomach,” she said.

  Tim plunked down in the recliner next to Jay with a sigh. He’d made himself a parfait with heaps of chocolate. “Seriously, how does anybody fly commercial?”

  “He thinks it’s funny to play the disgustingly spoiled snob,” Cassie said.

  “I am a disgustingly spoiled snob,” Tim said. “Want some?” He held a spoonful of gooey chocolate flecked with red sprinkles under Jay’s nose.

  Jay clutched his barf bag.

  Brandon pushed Tim’s arm away. “Jay, let’s hit a video game. It’ll clear your mind.”

  “Clear it of what?” Jay said. “The fact we’re hurtling through the tropopause if not the stratosphere at five hundred and some miles an hour?”

  “The tropopause?” Tim said. “Clearly your full-ride scholarship is for astrophysics or whatever. Hey, I bet he’s the best science student in all of New York. Dude, you could have gone to Stuy even, also for free. I mean, so what it’s a public; the Ivies take in a bunch of those Stuy kids.”

  “Tim, are you serious?” Brandon said. “Eat your ice cream before I make you wear it.”

  “Who ever heard of the tropopause?” Tim said.

  “Me,” Cassie said at the same time Emily said, “We all did—those of us who weren’t napping and drooling their way through earth science.” She was glaring at Tim.

  “It’s for baseball,” Jay said to Tim. He was eager to change the subject. “I pitch.”

  “You should try out for football,” Tim said. “No, I mean it. Our quarterback graduated last year. We need an arm. Bro, I was just messing with you, okay? I didn’t mean to give you a hard time.”

  “Then don’t,” Em said.

  Tim snapped. “Why don’t you two just make out already?”

  “Tim,” Cassie said. “Just, stop talking, okay?”

  Em’s cheeks had turned red. Jay felt worse for her than for himself.

  Tim was as flushed as Em, then the color drained from his face, and he looked queasy, maybe even sorry. “I’m being an idiot,” he said. “I don’t think I slept the whole week. That inflatable mattress felt more like a yoga mat. I’m out of my mind. I’m sorry, Jay-dawg. I am, really.” He offered his hand for a shake.

  Jay wanted to ask Tim not to call him dawg, but what was the point? He shook Tim’s hand. “No problem,” he said.

  “Em, seriously, I’m an idiot.” He looked like he was about to cry. Emily brushed his hair out of his eyes, but then he swung his recliner away to look out the window.

  “Okay, no sadness allowed on this plane,” Cassie said. “Or do I need to do my thoroughly awesome, oh-so-realistic simulated fart song?”

  “No, you absolutely do not,” Brandon said. “Cass, please, I’m begging.”

  “Ew, don’t, Cass!” Em said.

  “Do it, Cass!” Tim said, suddenly cheered up.

  She licked her hand, tucked it into her armpit, and cranked out “Oh Susanna.” Tim sang along and threw in a real fart.

  “Stop the plane,” Em said. “I want to get off, blehk! Jay, I swear we’re not all this disgusting.”

  But Jay was laughing too. He peered over the seats to check Reeva’s reaction.

  Reeva sat up near the coatroom. She didn’t pay any attention to the gang, her seat swiveled away so Jay saw her in profile. Deep into her phone screen, she tapped away at a text, it seemed like, which was weird, because Tony had said the plane’s internet was down, and Jay didn’t think there would be any cell service this high up.

  Tony came over the PA system with, “Friends, welcome to Flight 21, departing from Hollow Brim, set to land a bit after one thirty a.m. in Teterboro, with the two-hour time jump. We’ve just about reached our cruising altitude of thirty-seven thousand feet. We’re looking good for a smooth flight all the way into the New York metro area, so sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  Jay was going to try to do exactly that. He just had to darken his window some more. The glare was …

  The glare. That was it, the thing that was so wrong.

  Jay, seated on the left side of the plane, pointed out his window.

  “What’s up?” Brandon said.

  “The sun,” Jay said.

  “So?”

  “Why are we seeing it?” Jay said.

  “Um, because it hasn’t set yet?” Tim said.

  “We’re supposed to be flying east, right?” Jay said. “If the sun is in the southwest, we should only be able to see it out the right-side windows. My window here is facing north, supposedly. Unless I’m hallucinating, that big orange ball there to the north is the sun.”

  “Except the sun is in the south,” Em said.

  “So your window is facing south,” Tim said. “So what?”

  “It means we’re flying west,” Brandon said.

  “Last time I checked, New York is east,” Em said.

  “We’re probably just looping around,” Brandon said. “I mean, it would have to be that, right?”

  “Are you asking me?” Jay said.

  “Casserole?” Em said.

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what it is,” Cassie said. She didn’t seem even slightly sure. She looked over her shoulder at Reeva.

  Reeva was perfectly still, hands folded in her lap, no expression. Now she was wearing sunglasses. Her head was angled toward the sun-filled window.

  “You all need to chill,” Tim said. “Tony said sit back and enjoy the flight. Amen.” He pulled down his sunglasses to block out the rays, which most definitely were shining directly into his eyes as he looked out the window, toward what had to be the southwest, Jay was sure of it.

  CASSIE

  7:50 p.m. MT

  In the B550, somewhere over central Idaho

  Cassie headed for the cockpit.

  “What’s up, Cassie?” Reeva said.

  “Could you take off your sunglasses, please?”

  Reeva did. “Everything okay?”

  “We’re heading west.”

  “Northwest, actually,” Reeva said. “Probably some air traffic control situation.”

  “It’s just that things are a little different today,” Cassie said. “You know, with the substitute pilot.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re not worried?”

  “Cassie, I expect the plane will turn soon, and then we’ll be heading east.”

  “I’m just gonna check to see if Tony’s okay.”

  “Let’s wait a couple of minutes, to see if the plane makes a turn. If it doesn’t—”

  “Reeva, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but if something bad is happening up there—”

  “Why would you think that? The plane isn’t making any wild dips. Tony didn’t activate the emergency call button.”

  “The cockpit door,” Cassie said. “It’s shut.”

  “So? That’s the protocol.”

  “Tony always leaves it
open anyway, so I can hang out up there, once we’re airborne. You remember on the way out here? He kept the door open the whole flight.”

  “He shouldn’t have. I didn’t push him about it, but I told myself that next time I’d have to say something. He’s with a new pilot, so he’s following the protocols—that’s good. Cassie, wait.”

  Cassie kept heading for the cockpit door. She pulled the door lever.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  Reeva was right behind her now.

  “He locked it,” Cassie said.

  “That’s the proto—”

  Cassie banged on the door. “Tony?”

  Tony clicked in over the intercom. “What’s up, Cass?”

  Cassie clicked the intercom. “Why’d you lock the door?”

  “Now, Cass, we don’t want our friend Sophie here to get the impression we don’t run a tight ship. We always bolt the door, right? I’m sorry, Sofia, I meant.”

  Cassie clicked and said, “Why are we heading northwest?”

  “A bad weather report came up on the screen shortly after takeoff. We’re getting the heck out of its way. You head on back to the TV there, pick out a couple of movies, and we’ll be on the ground in Teterboro before you finish the second one.”

  “So, you’re, you know, okay?”

  Tony laughed. “You’re sweet, Cass. We’re good up here, all right? Head on back and get a couple of those pizzas going for team Hartwell.”

  Cassie nodded to Reeva. “He’s okay.”

  Reeva smiled. She clicked the intercom now. “Tony, how much longer do you think we’re going to have to divert to avoid the storm? I ask because I didn’t see anything but clear skies on the weather report, and that was just before we left.”

  “It’s a windstorm, friend, no precipitation. It won’t show up in a conventional weather report. I’m looking at it right here on my screen. ‘Severe updrafts reported throughout southern Idaho, extending east into Wyoming.’ Soon as ATC gives me the all clear, I’ll swing this bird around toward home, okay? Thanks.” He clicked off.

  Reeva put her hand on Cassie’s shoulder and guided her, a little more than gently, into the pass-through hallway between the entryway and the coatroom, back into the passenger cabin.