“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“The former fighter pilot?”
Claire suppressed a smile.
“Yes.”
“Motion sick?”
“Yes.”
“This is the greatest day of my life.”
Lucas unbuckled his belt.
Adrian Vale turned toward him.
For the first time, the man’s calm expression disappeared.
Only slightly.
But Maya saw it.
“Flight attendant,” Adrian said, “the sign is on.”
“Captain authorized movement.”
Adrian looked past Claire.
Directly toward the galley.
Toward Maya.
Then he smiled.
“Of course.”
Lucas started down the aisle.
Ten feet.
Eight.
Six.
Then every cabin light went out.
Passengers gasped.
Emergency strips illuminated the floor.
Somewhere near the cockpit, an alarm began screaming.
The aircraft dropped.
Not far.
Perhaps two hundred feet.
But fast enough to send loose objects upward.
Passengers shouted.
Lucas lost his balance.
Claire grabbed him.
And in the darkness, Maya saw a blue light.
Row eighteen.
Adrian’s wrist.
Blinking rapidly.
Maya moved.
She reached Lucas, dragged him behind the galley divider, and whispered into Claire’s ear.
