Chapter 4 - Thirty-Five Thousand Feet
I felt the air pull right out of my chest. "A second operative? On this plane?"
Agent Thomas nodded, stepping closer into the narrow galley space between the beverage carts. "Samuel Parker was the chief financial officer for Aethelgard Defense Systems. Over the last three years, he uncovered a multi-billion-dollar illegal weapons contract involving foreign shell companies and domestic politicians. Evelyn Vance isn't just an attorney—she's a private intelligence contractor hired to recover the physical encryption drive before Parker can hand it over to the Department of Justice."
"The encryption drive," I murmured, my hand subconsciously drifting toward my vest pocket where the tiny silver key rested. "The drive is inside the stuffed rabbit."
Agent Thomas's eyes narrowed instantly, his gaze locking onto my hand. "The rabbit? The boy has it?"
"Yes," I said, taking a step back, my instincts suddenly screaming at me.
Something felt off.
I had been flying as a commercial crew member for nearly eight years. Federal air marshals on active flights were always logged on the captain's paper manifest before departure. They always checked in with the purser prior to passenger boarding.
"Agent Thomas," I said carefully, keeping my voice neutral. "Why didn't Captain Miller notify us that a U.S. Marshal was on board during our pre-flight briefing?"
The man didn't hesitate. "I boarded through the tarmac crew hatch ten minutes before departure under direct priority clearance from federal command. Captain Miller was notified through the encrypted satellite loop two minutes ago."
He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a sleek leather wallet. "Now, Ryan, I need you to go up to seat 2A, take that stuffed animal quietly, and bring it back to this galley. We cannot risk a disturbance in the front cabin."
I looked at Grace. She was standing behind Agent Thomas, her face pale, her hands trembling slightly as she held a coffee pot. But her eyes were fixed on the agent's belt line.
I followed her gaze.
The man’s jacket had shifted slightly when he reached inside. Tucked into his leather holster wasn't the standard-issue Sig Sauer sidearm used by federal agents. It was a customized Glock 19 equipped with an integrated suppressor threading on the barrel.
Government marshals do not carry suppressed weapons on commercial passenger aircraft.
He was the second operative.
"Of course, Agent," I said smoothly, forcing a calm smile onto my face. "I'll go get the toy right away. Grace, can you grab me a bottle of water from the top drawer?"
As I turned toward the aisle, I caught Grace's eye and gave her a subtle, double-tap gesture against my leg—our crew code for cockpit emergency lock down.
I walked quickly down the narrow aisle of coach, my heart hammering like a drum against my ribs. Every second felt like an eternity. If this man realized I knew who he was, thirty-five thousand feet in the air, a crowded commercial airliner would become a kill zone.
When I reached the front of the aircraft, I slipped straight past seat 2A, opened the heavy curtain to the front galley, and knocked three times rapidly on the armored cockpit door—the code for an immediate security threat.
The door clicked open six inches. Captain Miller looked out through the narrow gap, his face grim.
"Ryan, what's going on?"
"The man in seat 4B claiming to be a U.S. Marshal is armed and hostile," I whispered frantically. "He has a suppressed weapon. He's here for Noah."
Captain Miller's eyes narrowed into steel. He turned to First Officer Hayes. "Trigger the transponder code 7500 silent alarm to air traffic control immediately. Lock the flight deck."
"What about the boy?" Hayes asked, his fingers flying across the overhead console.
"I'm taking him into the crew rest compartment," I said.
I backed out of the galley curtain and walked straight to seat 2A. Noah was sitting up, watching me with wide, watchful eyes.
"Noah," I said, leaning down and picking him up in one swift movement, pulling his small body tight against my chest. "We're going to play a game. We're going to hide in a secret room, okay?"
Noah clutched Barnaby to his chest. "Is the bad man coming?"
"Not while I'm breathing," I said.
May you like
I carried him into the small crew rest compartment located right behind the cockpit bulkhead, locked the heavy reinforced door from the inside, and pulled the emergency radio from the wall hook.
Outside the door, I heard the faint, heavy sound of footsteps approaching the first-class cabin.
