Simple Genius (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 3)

He stared at her a bit nervously. “Oh? Sure, okay.”

She eased the wheel forward and the plane’s nose dipped. Then it dipped some more. Michelle could see the earth coming at them awfully fast. And still she kept the wheel pushed forward. Suddenly flashing through her mind were nightmares that had torn at her for nearly three decades. A child petrified, but what child? Her? Even in her mind’s eye she couldn’t be sure. And yet the terror she was feeling was very real.

They were diving nearly straight down and yet Michelle didn’t seem to notice the altimeter reading plummeting or hear the warning horn in the cockpit. She also didn’t see that Champ was frantically pulling his wheel back, screaming at her to let go; that she was going to crash the plane. And yet she couldn’t pull her hands from the wheel. It was as though it had been electrified. For a second time she heard herself say, “Goodbye, Sean.”

Finally, through the fog of her mind she heard, “Let go!”

Michelle glanced to the side and saw a white-faced Champ straining with all of his might to pull the wheel back, to free them from the death spiral. Michelle ripped her hands from the wheel. Champ managed to pull the plane level and then took them in for a bumpy landing, the tires kicking off the runway twice before settling firmly down.

They taxied to a stop. For several minutes all each could hear was the other’s strained breathing. Finally Champ looked at her. “Are you all right?”

She could feel acid racing up her throat. “For nearly killing us both, yes, I’m fine.”

“I’ve known other people to freeze up at the controls. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you take the wheel.”

“Champ, you did nothing wrong. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

They were walking back from the plane to Champ’s Mercedes when a motorcycle pulled up to them. It was Horatio Barnes’s Harley. The rider pulled off his helmet, and Sean King said, “Beautiful day to fly, isn’t it?”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

r /> He tossed her a spare helmet. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks for the flying lesson, Champ. I’m afraid I’m not up to lunch right now.” She climbed on the bike behind Sean.

After they’d left the private air terminal and been on the road for a couple of minutes Michelle told Sean to pull off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just do it,” she urged.

He pulled off and Michelle ran behind some trees and threw up.

She came back a minute later, white-faced and wiping her mouth. She slowly climbed back on the bike.

“Skies a little unfriendly to you?” he asked.

She said slowly, “No, just chalk it up to pilot error. So what are you doing on Horatio’s precious Harley?”

“Just went for a stroll.”

“And just happened to arrive at the air terminal as we landed?”

He turned and said angrily, “You call that a friggin’ landing? You guys were coming straight down. I thought you’d lost the damn engine. I almost killed myself getting to the runway even if it was just to spatula you off the tarmac! What the hell happened up there?”

“Some kind of engine trouble. Champ corrected it.” She felt terrible lying to him, but would have felt even worse telling him the truth. And what was the truth? That she had frozen, nearly killing herself and an innocent person?

“I thought you said it was pilot error?”

“Just forget it,” she said. “Any landing you walk away from is a great one.”

“Excuse me for caring.”

“So you’ve been riding this bike all over the countryside watching us fly around?”

“I told you I didn’t want you to go up there with the guy.”

“You don’t think I can handle myself?”