Falling by T.J. Newman

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

THEO AND CARRIE STOOD ACROSSthe parking lot, ignored by the other agents. They both paced anxiously, trying to figure out what to do.

According to the chatter in Theo’s earpiece, preparations to enact secondary protocol had been put in motion in Washington, DC. The FBI issued an official public statement, and the media was now flooded with images of tourists and government officials running for cover. The lights at the White House had been shut off, leaving pundits to speculate that the president had been taken to the bunker. Across town at the Pentagon, armed soldiers in tactical gear streamed in and out of the building. Listening to the reports come in was disorienting. This had been their crisis, but now it spanned coast to coast. It was growing into something else entirely.

Liu and the LA team had been relaying everything they knew to the authorities on the East Coast, but they didn’t have much to offer. They’d given what information they had on the two suspects and were conducting background searches as rapidly as possible. The findings would most likely be moot at this point, but after learning of Ben’s involvement, they weren’t taking any chances. Any potential lead was to be pursued—and that included intelligence on Bill. Theo knew Carrie couldn’t hear what was being discussed in his ear, but it made him shift on his feet anyway. She was practically a stranger to him, but somehow the Hoffmans already felt like family. Hearing the FBI discuss her husband as a potential threat felt like a betrayal.

Theo had immediately texted Jo to let her know about Ben. But Jo hadn’t replied. Theo and Carrie looked down at his cell phone, waiting.

“It says ‘Delivered,’ ” Carrie said.

“Sure, but did she see it?”

Carrie had no response.

Theo stared at his phone, praying those three dots would pop up on Jo’s side of the text. He tried to block out the dark thoughts, but they crowded into the silence. No one knew what the poison was. They had no idea what had actually happened up there. For all they knew, Jo never got the text because…

Theo handed Carrie the phone and shook out his hands.

“She’s just busy,” Carrie said in a way that was meant to reassure them both. “She got the text. She’s fine. She just can’t respond. Have we heard anything else from Bill?”

Theo shook his head. Bill hadn’t communicated via Morse since his last message regarding the family’s location. That didn’t bode well for the argument that he remained uncompromised.

“Well, he’s busy too,” Carrie said. “Aviate. Navigate. Communicate.”

Theo angled his head. “What?”

“Aviate, navigate, communicate. It’s the pilots’… motto? I don’t know what you’d call it. It’s their list of priorities. Aviate—fly the plane. Navigate—know where you’re going. Communicate—talk to who you need to about what you need to. It’s usually not a problem to do all three. But in an emergency?” Carrie shrugged. “They do what they can. I think communication is a luxury Bill and Jo can’t afford right now.”

Theo’s mind went to the “Miracle on the Hudson.” He remembered looking online for the recording of the conversation between Air Traffic Control and the cockpit because he’d been perplexed by how little Captain Sullenberger had said during the incident. The entire flight was only three, maybe four, minutes long. And the controller kept giving the pilot options—but Sully hardly responded. And when he did, it was short and direct. “Unable.” And then finally, “We’re gonna be in the Hudson.” Aviate, navigate, communicate. It now made sense.

Bill wasn’t compromised. He was occupied.

“You know you’re right. Right?” Theo said.

She looked up.

“You need to tell them.”

“They won’t listen to me.”

“But you’re right.”

Carrie shot him a look of admonishment. “Since when does being right mean you get heard? You should understand that better than most.”

Theo shook his head. “But you are right. And Jo’s right. But no one’s going to listen to either of you in time.”

Theo rubbed his face in frustration, his eyes landing on the phone in Carrie’s hand.

The same phone he’d watched his aunt speak from earlier in the video the whole world had seen.

“Carrie,” Theo said slowly, as the idea in his head became fully formed. “We gotta go.”

Jo spread her legs for balance and grabbed on to opposite sides of the bulkhead as the plane began to tremble. She refused to leave her position in front of the cockpit door. There was no indication that a third attack was coming, but then again, there had been no indication for the second.

Behind her, the cabin had grown eerily silent. She glanced back quickly to check on the passengers and the small movement sent cold streaks of pain down her neck. She felt something on her leg and looked down. Her pantyhose were corroding, burning away as painful sores blossomed on her skin beneath.

She ignored it all.

Daddy was coming out of the bathroom, drying his hands. His sleeves were rolled up, the dark-gray uniform wet at the cuffs. Jo assumed he had been trying to rinse the poison off his skin. Kellie had spent the last ten minutes passing out bottles of water to the passengers, instructing them to pour the water in their eyes, on their hands, down their faces. Anywhere the poison had touched. She told them to pull their shirts up over their mouth and nose, anything to filter the air, even just a little. Jo didn’t know if the passengers were succumbing to the poison or if they just didn’t have any fight left—but no one resisted, no one asked for an explanation, no one demanded a thing of her.

My god, she was proud of them. Chance had thrown these strangers together and they had responded magnificently. Same with the crew. Jo couldn’t imagine better flight attendants to have been paired with than Kellie and Big Daddy. They weren’t on the ground yet, but because of their actions, 144 people sat in their seats injured and struggling—but alive.

This was where their role in the plan ended. It was up to Bill now.

Bill.

The captain. The man whose family had been taken. For all Jo knew, Carrie and the kids were already dead. Jo’s stomach sank at the same time that the plane dropped.

Her world rocked from side to side as the downward pitch increased. Her abdominal muscles clenched as she worked to maintain her balance. Squatting, she glanced out the small porthole window on the door to her right. The lights on the ground were growing brighter, blurring as the plane moved faster and closer to the ground. She’d put it off as long as she could. It was time to get in her jump seat and strap in. Just like she told Kellie and Daddy—the passengers needed her alive.

Buckled in, the oxygen tank sandwiched against her back, she leaned forward to look out the window again. Jo had flown into JFK countless times. She knew the approach well.

She knew they were deviating from it.

Bill.

What was it he had said to her? You have my word that I am not going to crash this plane. But how I accomplish that I haven’t figured out yet. His statement came to Jo like he was whispering it in her ear. He had assured her he wouldn’t crash the plane. But at what cost? Her heart ached for her friend and the burden he carried, the choice he had to make.

The back of her head smacked against the headrest as her feet left the floor. She tried to look confident, like the plane’s shuddering was all part of the plan. But their speed at this low altitude and the wild, off-course descent was telling her something else.

“Bill?” she whispered quietly to herself, the passengers unable to see her lips under her mask. The dim cabin hid her tears. The evidence was mounting—something was wrong. Her voice cracked as she issued a second plea: “Captain?”

Did he need help? She wanted to do something, she wanted to get up and fix it, she wanted to control the outcome. Moving to unbuckle her harness—to do what, she had no idea—she felt her phone in her pocket. She realized she hadn’t checked it since before the first attack started.

The bright digital display bounced in the turbulence as she struggled to hold it still enough to read. She had several unread messages from Theo.

Carrie and the kids are safe. Bad guy dead.

Jo kicked the bulkhead in front of her with both feet. Strapped to her jump seat with her hands full, it was literally the only physical reaction she could have. Jo had never felt an emotion as pure as the feeling of relieved victory that raced through her body after reading that message. She squinted through a smile that ran over the sides of her oxygen mask as she read Theo’s next text.

THE FIRST OFFICER IS IN ON THE PLAN. HE HAS A GUN. BILL MAY NEED HELP.

The human psyche wasn’t meant to sustain highs and lows of this magnitude in this short a period of time. The news ran through her body like an electric shock. The phone slipped from her fingers and landed on the galley floor.

The backup plan was Ben. The threat they had been looking for this whole time…

…was one of them.

She stared at the plexiglass bulkhead in a slack-jawed stupor. In all of their preparations the first officer hadn’t crossed her mind. Not once did she wonder how Bill would manage an attack on the cabin—with another pilot sitting beside him. The flight attendants had enough to deal with. Everything that was happening on the other side of the door she’d simply left up to Bill. But now, Jo felt like a fool that something so obvious hadn’t even occurred to her.

As the plane jostled beneath her, she tried to piece together what it meant, what they were now dealing with. She numbly unbuckled her harness and reached over to pick up her cell phone off the floor. The oxygen tank slid around her body, shifting her center of gravity. Catching herself against the bulkhead, she grabbed the phone and pulled herself back upright. Her hands shook violently.

She was losing control.

Jo stopped. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.

Young lady, this is not over yet. Now sit deep and put your spurs on.

As she yanked the interphone off the cradle, a high-low chime rang through the cabin.

“Daddy. Get up here. We’ve got a new problem.”