Dead Heading by Vincent Zandri

Author:Vincent Zandri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action, Crime, International Mystery & Crime, Mystery, Mystery & Suspense, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, NOIR, Sam Savage, Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, vincent zandri, pulp fiction
Publisher: Vincent Zandri
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sam Savage makes his way as fast as he can to the cockpit. He doesn’t stop to answer the questions being shot at him from the anxious, scared-to-death passengers. Right now, he needs a quick come-to-Jesus with the pilots. He needs a plan of action. Needs to do it as quickly as possible.

When he comes to the cockpit door, he encounters one of the first-class flight attendants. She’s a very attractive African American woman and one of Sam’s good friends, and occasional friend with benefits.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we, Sam?” she says.

“No, we’re not, Ashley,” he says. “We’re going to find a way to neutralize this son of a bitch and do it quickly.” He places both his hands on her trembling shoulders. “I need you to be strong for me. For every soul on board. And I also need the new code that gets me into the cockpit. Can you do that for me?”

Ashley wipes both her big brown eyes with the backs of her hands, forces a smile. She gives him the code.

“The Captain will want to know you’re aboard,” she says. Then, shaking her head, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Sam. They’re having a tough time keeping us airborne.”

“Smile anyway,” he says. “You can do it.”

Ashley works up a smile.

“That’s my girl,” Sam says.

He turns, faces the wall-mounted keypad, and punches in the five-digit cockpit code. The door unbolts, and he steps inside. Closing the door behind him, he enters the cramped cockpit of the Airbus A330.

“Have we got a problem, Houston, or what?” he says.

What he witnesses takes his breath away. Just like Ashley said, both pilots are indeed struggling to keep the aircraft airborne. Under normal circumstances, pilots don’t fly much at all once the plane is in the sky. The computers, in association with GPS-guided autopilot systems and TRACON, do all the real flying. The pilot and copilot are there to oversee the operation.

This is different. The pilots are gripping the sticks with both their hands as if the autopilot has been knocked out entirely. Their knuckles are white, their arms are trembling under their thin, white, short-sleeved uniform shirts. An alarm is sounding, the volume not ear-piercing, but its repetitive electronic warning is enough to grab Sam’s attention. The Captain, a thin, late-to-middle-aged man, is speaking non-stop into his headset.

“Mayday, mayday, this is Bravo Flight AB1989 from New York requesting an emergency landing at Heathrow,” he chants. “Repeat. Mayday, mayday, this is Bravo Flight AB1989 from New York en route to Rome now requesting an emergency landing at Heathrow. Over.”

“Please repeat the nature of your emergency,” the tinny, English-accented voice comes back over the radio. “Over.”

The Captain shakes his head, frustratingly.

“To repeat,” he spits, “we’ve had a fluid in-flight terroristic emergency. We have had one confirmed explosive detonation. The detonation has caused significant fuselage damage, and now hydraulics are affected enough that we’re having trouble keeping her level. Autopilot is gone completely. A man has strapped a bomb hidden inside a

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