The End Game (A Brit in the FBI 3)

“Can’t do it, the controls are down. Wait, wait, the readings are offline. Drummond, the plane is going down!”

“I know this, Captain Reynolds. We have less than a minute left. Lift the firewall. I can break through it, but we can’t waste any more time. I’ll take it from there.”

“This is Vice President Sloane. Captain, do as he asks. Right now. That is a direct order.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The

screen in front of Nicholas changed. Mike saw him take a deep breath and she gripped his shoulder. “Go, Nicholas.”

“Captain Reynolds, listen carefully. I’m going to create a new wireless network, and we’re going to log off Air Force One and put the plane’s communications onto the new network. Then you’ll push a fresh update. Backdate to the one prior to the one you sent.”

Reynolds said, “Are you crazy? I don’t have enough time—”

“Do it,” Nicholas said. “I’ve already founded the new wireless and I’m ready to override the attack.” And to Mike, “What’s my countdown?”

“You have forty-five seconds.”

He clicked on his other screen and the plane’s cockpit came up. The altimeter read eighteen thousand feet. They were going down fast.

“Are you ready?” he said to Captain Reynolds.

Reynolds stressed voice, “I need thirty more seconds.”

“This is over in twenty. Get the bloody firewall down now! Crash the system, don’t be nice to it. Force it!”

A pause. “It’s down, it’s down. Go!”

Nicholas started to type fast, strings of numbers. Everyone in the immediate area was creeping close again to watch. It was so quiet, Mike could hear herself breathe. She watched the clock over Nicholas’s shoulder, and she prayed.

“Nicholas, twenty seconds,” she said.

“I know, I know.”

The code was done. The altimeter still spun crazily downward. “I need the pilot now, please,” he said, more calmly than he felt. If he’d missed one letter, one number, one iota of code, the plane and all the people inside were dead.

“This is Colonel Moore. You’re the one trying to fix this?” The man’s voice was steady as a rock.

“Yes. When I say now, I want you to take the plane back, execute all evasive maneuvers. Three, two, one, now!”

He typed EXE and hit return. Stopped. Didn’t move an inch.

There was nothing more he could do.

The code fed directly into the plane’s database. In a perfect world, it would take fifteen seconds to take over the computers. They had five.

Four.

Three.

There was complete silence on the line.

He’d failed. The plane had hit the water, ripped apart, and now it was sinking and everyone was dead. His closed his eyes. Please, forgive me.

He didn’t see the altimeter stop moving and level out at thirteen hundred feet.

Mike leaned down, hugged him tight. “Nicholas. Look! You did it!”