Flustered, he turned and got the crash axe momentarily entangled in the dividing curtain. Cursing some more, he unravelled the axe from the curtain and stomped into the main cabin.
Gwen was slumped red-eyed and silent in her seat. Teetering on the edge of nervous exhaustion, she barely noticed him as he passed by.
Jo was sipping champagne from a flute glass, staring at the floor. Max could almost feel the tension in her body as he walked through the cabin carrying the axe. He looked at the nape of her neck as he passed her — the tender spot where her hairline met her back exposed. Could he do it after all; kill someone in cold blood? Swing the axe down, severing her head from her shoulders? The thought dried his mouth and made his head throb.
No.
He didn’t have it in him. Not now, not never.
Max walked to the bar and put the axe down on the counter. Three glasses of champagne were laid out there in front of him, bubbling gently along with the droning rhythm of the jet engines. He took a glass and downed it in one, then gulped down a second. Helping himself to the third and final glass, he turned and raised it to Jo in a toast.
“To getting out of this alive,” he said, and knocked back the last of the champagne.
Jo watched him in grim silence, then raised her own glass and drained it dry.
Alligator’s voiced boomed in Dave’s ears.
“You have shown aptitude for your assignment, but that’s hardly a surprise — deception is your forte, after all.”
Dave swallowed. It was a guilty sound.
“So you’re… going to let her go, right?”
“I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that. I have an additional task for you.”
Dave shifted his weight on the closed toilet seat, trying to regain his composure, dreading to hear what the bastard wanted from him this time. He swallowed again in nervous anticipation, listening through the headphones intently.
“I want you to kill one of your fellow passengers…”
The image of Sarah on the TV screen flickered for a moment as the cameraman moved closer, stroking her cheek with the index finger of his gloved hand. She recoiled, terrified, almost losing her footing on the stool again. The noose hung heavy and deadly as an anaconda around her neck.
“She hasn’t got much time.” Alligator continued, “I’m going to give you three minutes.”
“No, wait, I…”
On the screen, some urgent red numerals appeared, superimposed over the image of Sarah’s terrified face:
‘03:00’, ‘02:59’, ‘02:58’…
The countdown had begun.
“Tick-tock…” Alligator preened.
Dave’s face was a mask of pure panic.
He watched the numbers counting down, and saw his fiancée, helpless and twitching, strength failing her.
With a pang of remorse, he recalled the photo Alligator had shown him and the others during the game. Dave had felt bad about sleeping with Aimée, the French girl, as even the most seasoned player would — but only briefly. She had made it so easy for him to do with her as he pleased; escorting him to his secret needs like a hollow doll desperate to be filled with his lust. She must have wanted it as much as he did. It was a transaction between two consenting adults dancing to their darkest tunes — that was all. A quick shower, then he had blocked her account on All2gethr, all done and forgotten about. She didn’t have his mobile number or anything, so no worries. Sarah need never know. His dalliance changed nothing and so, in a way was proof that he was ready to commit to her, that he really loved her. Sure, he had deceived her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about her.
He knew why he behaved as he did, in his secret heart-of-hearts, painfully aware of the childhood traumas that informed his adult activities. Dave had been the ‘fat kid’ at school, always trying to fight back through wave after wave of adolescent tears as the others had bullied him. His body had been weak and flabby as a child, but his mind resolute. Dave had taken the beatings and swallowed the taunts, absorbing the bitter frustration of the others until it had festered and bloomed into something rotten. No sooner than he was old enough, big enough, to use his vitriol against others he had done so, over and over. Bullies always begat bullies, it was the way of the world. All the feelings of revenge surging within him focused into his weapon in a war on the fairer sex; the weaker sex. Every charm offensive and subsequent conquest rebalancing the equation little by little, until he was the victim no longer.
When he met Sarah, everything had clicked into place for Dave. She’d been bullied at school too, she knew exactly how it felt and had even drawn Dave’s story out of him like poison sucked from a bite. Until Sarah, he’d never confided in anyone about just how humiliating his school years had been; he’d never felt that he could. She was his rock. And now Sarah needed a protector. She needed him. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t to do for her — and only one chance to prove it. No way could he let this bastard win, no way could he allow him to hurt Sarah.
Dave glanced at his reflection in the mirror and steeled himself.
“Okay,” he said, “Who do you want me to kill?”
Thirteen
Gwen, slumped on her seat, drifted into a fitful sleep. Her body was dehydrated from the several glasses of champagne she’d consumed and her limbs were wracked with nerves. Gwen’s eyeballs jittered beneath their lids as her mind descended into a psychosomatic fugue state. She breathed uneasily, deep in the throes of a dream.
She was still on the plane, staring out the window at a bright blue sky. Dave, impeccably dressed in a smart pilot’s uniform, brought over a silver tray filled with flute glasses of champagne. She drank deeply, enjoying the sweet taste of the alcohol as it shimmied across her taste buds. Dave’s twinkling eyes smiled down at her as she took another glass and drank her fill. He took hold of her hand and pulled her gently to her feet. Together, they danced drunkenly in the aisle, laughing as they swayed and whirled. Jo and Max applauded and cheered them on from their seats where they sat, stiff and still as automatons. Then, Dave extended his arm and Gwen span round and around, giddy and laughing as the jet cabin became a passing blur of colours and faces.
Suddenly, dream logic found Gwen sitting on Dave’s lap in her seat. He was nuzzling her neck with his lips, loosening her scarf. The air in the cabin felt hot and close. She looked over at Jo and Max, both using All2gethr at their touch screens. They both sensed her looking at them and regarded her casually before returning to the glow of their monitors. Dave was unbuttoning Gwen’s blouse now, his rough hands caressing her neckline. He moved his lips from her neck to her face and she felt his stubble brushing against her cheek. She liked it. Gwen glanced at the others, to see if they were watching. They were — and Gwen no longer cared. Christ, but it was hot in the cabin — maybe the air conditioning was malfunctioning. Dave’s hands were on her legs now, his fingers exploring the smooth surface of her legs beneath her skirt. Her mind said no, but her physical being was awash with a hot rush of pleasure. She trembled under Dave’s caresses and grabbed hold of his arms, pulling him closer to her, anchoring herself to his frame. He kissed her, long and hard, and she reciprocated, but something was wrong.
She could feel the blood beginning to boil in her veins she was so hot. With Dave’s mouth clamped tightly over hers she struggled to breathe, the burning sensation in her veins coursing through her body like napalm. She gasped for air but found none, Dave’s hot cloying tongue in her mouth making it impossible for her to draw breath. The fire in her veins flooded into her organs, roasting her heart as it pounded a drumbeat in her flaming chest, penetrating her lungs like hot needles. She kicked and struggled but Dave held onto her fast as, hotter and hotter, her flesh ignited and her body burst into flames…