“The service on this airline is terrible,” Eddie said. “We’ve been in the air for fifteen minutes now and haven’t seen the drink cart yet.”
“And you won’t. None of the flight attendants were needed on this trip. Gives us privacy for our discussion.”
Eddie turned to Linc and said, “Wasn’t I just saying how we wanted some privacy?”
“You’re too kind,” Linc said to Taylor.
“This chatter is amusing,” Taylor said, “but I wonder how well it will hold up when you see your friend bleeding on the floor.”
“And mess up this beautiful carpet? What a shame.”
“That’s what this is for.” She handed the sheeting to one of the guards. “Make sure you cover the whole floor. I’ve got a few things to take care of and then I’ll be back for our chat.”
She winked at them as she left, closing the door behind her.
Eddie and Linc watched in silence as the guard unfolded the sheet and laid it over the carpet, careful to pull the edges up the walls to catch spillage.
The other guard stood there, smiling.
* * *
—
Juan thought he’d given it enough time. They should be close to cruising altitude.
Tiny handed him the handheld pry bar and he forced the trunk open. He opened it just a crack. The cargo hold looked empty, so he pushed the trunk lid up and rolled out, sweeping the space with his suppressed Smith & Wesson.
The only cargo was the two cars. Both vehicles were held down with straps on the tires that were clasped to retractable cargo restraints on the deck. The releases were operated by covered buttons on the wall next to each car.
“Clear,” Juan said.
Tiny got out and picked up the backpacks they’d brought with them. They each put one on their shoulders and made their way to the elevator.
“Where do you want to start looking for them?” Tiny asked.
“If the pilots aren’t in on the torture plan, Taylor will want to keep them as far away from the cockpit as possible.”
“That would be the upper deck at the rear. The cockpit is on the main deck.”
“So we get Eddie and Linc first, and that will double our numbers. Then we take the cockpit.”
Even if the pilots weren’t party to what Taylor had planned for her guests, they would resist anyone taking control of the plane. At the first sign of trouble, they’d head back to Cyprus, where an army of Carlton’s men would be waiting for the intruders when they landed.
But breaking into any airliner’s flight deck was extremely difficult in the age of terrorism and hijackers. The door would be hardened and bulletproof to pistol fire. They couldn’t break it down, and the emergency code to open it would be useless even if they could find it. The pilots would activate the triple locking mechanism as soon as they suspected the plane was under attack.
That’s why they had brought thermal charges. Explosives would be too dangerous to use to sever the bolts. Not only could they injure or kill the pilots, they could also damage the instruments and controls.
Instead, the charges were strips of thermite powder they could tape to the door. When the nylon cords were ripped off, the thermite would ignite, melting through the locks like a blowtorch.
The elevator up to the passenger areas was located on the port side of the plane near the midpoint. Juan would have preferred stairs, but there weren’t any. Using the elevator was a perilous start to their infiltration. They wouldn’t be able to tell if anyone was waiting at the top of the ride.
They had their weapons at the ready as the elevator slowly rose to the main galley. It came to a stop with a ding. Juan flung open the door and rushed out, but no one was there.
He checked the hallway outside, then gestured for Tiny to follow. Juan could see a spiral staircase at the aft end. He made his way down the hall while Tiny kept watch on their rear. He stopped only long enough to check four small rooms that they passed—they all turned out to be empty—before entering a palatial lounge.
“Wait here until I call for you,” Juan whispered. Tiny nodded and kept an eye on the hallway.
Juan crept up the spiral stairs, the sound of his steps absorbed by the plush carpeting.