Ethan’s voice came over the speakers.
“Maya, if you can hear me, you have nine minutes.”
Passengers fell silent.
“Nine minutes until what?” Maya whispered.
The answer came through static.
“Until whoever is controlling Flight 417 sends you straight into the Atlantic.”
PART 4
NINE MINUTES ABOVE THE ATLANTIC
Maya ran.
Not like a passenger.
Not like a frightened mother.
Like the fighter pilot she had spent eight years pretending no longer existed.
A flight attendant near the forward galley tried to stop her.
“Ma’am, you need to—”
“Open the cockpit.”
“I can’t.”
Maya looked into her eyes.
The young woman was terrified.
Not involved.
“Then tell me the emergency code procedure.”
“I’m not authorized—”
“We may have less than nine minutes.”
The attendant paled.
Maya lowered her voice.
“Trust me.”
Something in Maya’s expression made the woman nod.
Before she could speak, the cockpit door opened.
