Chapter 24 - The Descent to the Unknown
The sudden rush of cold, high-altitude wind tore through the cargo hold, whipping our hair across our faces and howling like a wounded animal.
Anton slammed the secondary seal shut, locking it mechanically with a heavy steel pin so no remote electronic signal could ever trigger it again. We stood panting in the dim light, our chests rising and falling in rhythm, the adrenaline pumping through our veins like liquid fire.
"The transmitter is gone," Anton shouted over the whistling wind. "If she was relaying a remote detonation sequence, it's severed."
"And if she wasn't?" I asked, wiping a stray lock of hair from my eyes as I looked toward the main cabin stairs. "We still don't have a pilot. We still can't taxi down the runway."
"We don't need a pilot," Anton said, a grim smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Remember my certification from my corporate aviation days in Geneva? I can taxi this bird manually and contact the Zurich air traffic control tower directly from the secondary radio."
"Let's move, then," I said.
We climbed back up through the floor hatch into the main passenger cabin. The digital tablet in the cockpit was now dark, the live video feed dead. The countdown timer had vanished, replaced by a blank, slate-gray screen.
Anton slid into the captain's left seat, flipping toggle switches with practiced precision. The auxiliary power unit whined to life, restoring the bright, warm cabin lights and feeding juice to the main radio console.
"Zurich Ground, this is Private Charter Gulfstream 7-Echo-Delta," Anton spoke clearly into the headset mic, his voice steady and commanding. "We have an unauthorized security breach on board. Requesting immediate security lockdown of the private airstrip and interception of a black Mercedes-Maybach, license plate Geneva-77-Alpha."
A crackle of static filled the headset, followed immediately by the sharp, professional voice of the airport control tower.
*"Gulfstream 7-Echo-Delta, roger that. We show your aircraft doors were remotely overridden from an external terminal on the perimeter road. Security units are already moving to intercept the vehicle in question. Please hold your position; do not attempt to taxi."*
"Understood," Anton replied, letting out a long, shuddering breath. He took off the headset, leaned back in his leather chair, and looked across the center console at me. "They're cornering her."
I walked over, resting my hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension slowly drain from his muscles. "It's finally over, Anton. The police have her."
May you like
Or so we foolishly believed.
***
