“She was never my mother.”
“But what Mandala did to her bothers you as much as it does me, doesn’t it?”
“No, because I never knew her. And what I knew I didn’t like. She was a specter from my past, a specter I loathed all through my childhood. I didn’t just lose her, I lost my father at the same time.”
“Chris—”
“No, let me finish. I never knew my mother, Nikki, and I never knew my father either. It isn’t easy growing up that way.”
“I know how you feel,” she said honestly. “But it still hurt when your father died, didn’t it?”
“It hurt. And what about you?” He looked at her sharply. “That was your mother we left dying back at the castle. But after shedding a few tears, you took a couple deep breaths and left for the airport with me. You know you’ll never see her again, yet I can’t see any change in you because of that. Doesn’t it hurt for you?”
“Plenty. Feel enough pain, though, and you learn to control it. I’ve learned to deal with grief in my own way.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to hear it.”
Nikki started to move away. Chris grabbed her arm. “Yes, I do.”
Her eyes went cold. “You make it work for you, Chris, that’s how you live with it. You turn the grief around and sprinkle your bullets with it. You dream about coming face to face with the person who caused it and that keeps you going, takes your mind off the pain. You dream about killing that person a hundred different ways and when you finally finish him the grief is lifted off your shoulders.”
That left Locke speechless. Once again the coldness of the world he had entered hit him head-on. These people could live with death just fine. It was life that gave them problems.
Ten minutes later they passed through Austrian Customs and headed through the terminal for their gate. Chris stopped for a drink and snuck a look behind him.
“He’s following us,” he told Nikki as he fell in step with her again.
“Who?” She started to turn.
Locke grasped her at the elbow. “Don’t look back. It’s the man in the damn porkpie hat. Convinced now?”
“Enough to be glad I got my knives through security.”
“You think he’ll be boarding the plane?”
“More than likely he’s just here to make sure we do. He knows we’re headed for Geneva now. All he has to do is contact Mandala and there’ll be a welcoming committee to greet us at the airport.”
“What if we changed our plans?”
“Wouldn’t matter. The man would just change his.”
“And if we … took him out?”
If Nikki was surprised at Locke’s suggestion, she didn’t show it. “There could be others with him, probably are. Him we’ve marked; them we haven’t. We watch him while he watches us. Stalemate.”
“Which gives the advantage to Mandala.”
Nikki’s face was a mask of determination. “Only for now. We’ll have the whole flight to figure out some way of slipping by them in Geneva.”
Locke managed to keep a watch on the man with the porkpie hat as he and Nikki joined the boarding line for the flight. Their seats were in the front of the second cabin so they had a clear view of the entrance to the jet. People filed through one after another and found their seats quickly. The stewardess gave the usual set of instructions in German and then English.
The jet began to move. Chris looked out from his window seat. The man with the porkpie hat was standing against the glass over the runway, watching, hands in his pockets. Locke could see him clearly only for a few seconds. But something about the man’s stare was chilling.
“He was in the window,” Chris told Nikki.
“It makes sense,” Nikki whispered calmly. “He’s absolutely sure we’re on the plane now. Geneva can be alerted. He thinks we’re trapped.”
A chill seized Locke. “Why did he let us see him?” he asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted us to see him, that’s what I mean. He wanted us to think just what we’re thinking, and he was standing there in the window to be certain we didn’t try a dodge at the last second. It was worth risking exposure for him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They put a bomb on this plane!”
Nikki’s head seemed to snap backward. She searched for a rationale to refute Locke but knew immediately that he was right. Mandala couldn’t chance letting them reach Geneva. The man was a red herring sent to distract them, perhaps even to activate the bomb now that they were on board.
“What are we going to do?” Chris asked her, fighting against panic.
“I don’t know. I’ve got to think. We’ve got time. The bomb won’t go off until we’re well in the air, past Zurich at least. No trace that way.”
“We’ve got to tell them to go back and land the plane! We’ve got to tell them about the bomb!”
“They’ll detain us, steal time away we don’t have. We’d be sitting ducks for Mandala. He wins either way.”
Locke thought quickly. “Then only one of us will alert them.”
Nikki shook her head. “No good. If we go back to Vienna, we run smack into your friend with the hat again. He’ll have others waiting with him, and it’ll take all our efforts to stay out of their grasp. We can’t afford that. Keysar Flats, remember?”
Locke felt the panic surging now. “What the hell do we do then?”
Nikki thought quickly. “There’s a way out but it’s risky. We’ll have to wait until we’re close to Switzerland. Another twenty minutes maybe.”
“And what if the bomb goes off before then?”
“We’ll have to take that chance. We can’t risk going back to Vienna if my plan backfires.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Hijack this flight.”
The minutes passed slower than any Locke could ever remember. Finally Nikki leaned back and pretended to stretch, while she freed her Gurkha knives from their sheaths beneath her bulky jacket. A stewardess was approaching, wheeling a tray of beverages. Good fortune, because the cart would block the aisle and prevent any dime-store heroics once Nikki made her move.
“There might be security agents on board,” she whispered to Locke. “If they get me, rush to them immediately and say I mentioned something about a bomb but you thought it was a joke. Understand?”
Locke nodded.
“And whatever happens, act as if you don’t know me. Act terrified, dismayed, inconvenienced. Just don’t look any different from everyone else.”
The stewardess pushed her cart up even with their seats.
“Would you care for a—”
Nikki sprung over the hand rest, Kukhri knife gleaming in her hand as she grabbed the stewardess and spun her around, blade pressed against her throat.
“Anyone makes a move and she dies!”
Screams and cries rang out through the cabin. People ducked under seats or covered their ears and eyes in terror. No one dared intervene.
“You!” Nikki shouted at another stewardess. “Go to the cockpit. Tell them this plane is being hijacked. I want it landed in Zurich straightaway.” Then, to the passengers who had grown silent. “I’m not alone in this. I’ve got partners. They won’t show themselves unless someone foolishly forces them to.” Back to the other stewardess: “Take my message to the cockpit. Now!”
The stewardess ran down the aisle, whimpering.
Locke watched Nikki back up to the break between cabins with her blade resting dangerously close to her hostage’s jugular. Her back came up against a steel divider, which would preclude attack from the rear. She seemed to settle down a little, waiting.
Chris couldn’t settle down at all. His heart was thumping madly against his chest. He forced himself to think. If Nikki’s plan was successful and the jet landed safely in Zurich, Mandala would be caught off guard. He couldn’t have men with green porkpie hats waiting at every airport in the world. Chris would be free to make his escape from Zurich and get back to America by any route he could arrange. Nikki had slipped him plenty of cash to make the trip. The prospects of incarceration, prison even, didn’t faze her.