Perhaps good intentions paved the road to Hell after all, he considered.
Enzio immediately felt the draw and pull of air caused by a breach in the fuselage. Everything not tacked down in the cockpit was pulled out the door, the force so great it lifted Enzio from his seat, which he was eternally grateful to have been securely belted in.
The plane seesawed from side to side trying to balance itself as if on the point of the fulcrum, but failed, the up-and-down movement getting worse, not better, the tips of the wings dipping in wild vacillation, which threatened to throw Shepherd One into a spiral.
As the drawing pressure began to alleviate, a modicum of control returned to Enzio and the plane started to level off. But when a booming pop sounded, Shepherd One began a steady decline as the angle of its nose and the subsequent follow through of its body started to tip toward a vertical position that promised a head-on collision with Earth.
The altimeter on the flight panel began to descend, going from its set level of 25,000 feet to a scrolling set of numbers that rolled downward.
… 24,000 feet…
… 23,500 feet…
… 23,000 feet…
From the overhead panel a light winked on, signifying that Shepherd One had lost thrust from one of its engines, hence the pop which was more likely an explosion that threw off the plane’s balance. In quick succession he switched a series of toggles to readjust Shepherd One’s power to the three remaining engines, and then applied all his strength to the yolk that vibrated heavily in his hands.
… 22,000 feet…
… 21,000 feet…
… 20,000 feet…
The plane rattled to the point where Enzio was sure the rivets holding Shepherd One together would pop loose. But they didn’t. The entire construction was a marvel of engineering as the equalized thrusts and flaps began to engage themselves, the nose rising, the wings steadying, all in slow progression.
… 17,000 feet…
… 16,500 feet…
… 16,000 feet…
The belly of the aircraft began to level back into a horizontal plane, the flight smoothing out.
… 15,000 feet…
… 14,500 feet…
At 13,900 feet, Shepherd One had leveled off.
“Base Command, this is Fighting Falcon Two-Six-Four-Three…”
“… Go ahead, Two-Six-Four-Three.”
“Base Command, it appears Shepherd One had stabilized and is maintaining a level of thirteen thousand nine hundred feet. However, the aircraft has substantial damage to its porthole side with a massive breach in the fuselage fore of the wing. Do you copy?”
“… Repeat, Two-Six-Four-Three… Did you say Shepherd One is maintaining their altitude with substantial damage?…”
“That’s affirmative.”
“… Two-Six-Four-Three, you are to immediately make contact with Shepherd One and obtain their current situation. Do you copy?…”
“Affirmative, Base Command… Engaging…”
“… Copy that…”
Kimball Hayden worked his way to the cockpit with his hair continuing to whip about the crown of his head as if in a wind tunnel, and grabbed the edges of the doorway. “Enzio.”
The pilot turned. “Father Hayden, how did you get up here? I thought you were locked below.” And then he saw the combat knives attached to his thighs. Somehow, he thought, they looked natural on him. “What are you doing with those?” he asked, pointing to the weapons.
Kimball stepped into the cockpit and ignored the question. “What’s our altitude?” he said with urgency.
The pilot checked the altimeter. “We’re maintaining at thirteen thousand nine hundred feet.”
“Don’t go any lower,” he told him. “Not one inch.”
Enzio looked past Kimball and beyond the door. And Kimball intuited the pilot’s puzzled appearance as to what happened to Hakam and his team, as well as to Shepherd One.
“They’re all gone,” he said, “along with three of our own.”
“And the pontiff?”
“Given the circumstances, he’s doing well.”
Enzio look pleased after learning the pope’s fate. It was the look of deliverance. “I also heard multiple gunshots,” he said. “And then the blowout occurred. How bad is she damaged?”
“It’s extensive, Enzio — and I mean very.”
“Will she hold another two hours plus?”
Kimball thought this an odd question. “I would think you were more of an expert on that, not me. Why?”
Enzio closed his eyes and swallowed. In his mind’s eye he could see his wife’s lovely face and the faces of his children. He could see his son trying too hard to be a man, his need for adulthood coming in the form of macho posturing that hadn’t quite measured up to a true grown-up, both parents still seeing the little boy in him. And Enzio smiled in a dreamy sort of way that made Kimball think the man was lost in his own utopia where everything was in perfect harmony. It was short lived, however, when Enzio snapped his eyes open.
“Father Hayden?”
“Yeah, Enz.”
“You know they have my family, correct?”
Kimball nodded. “And the Vatican has sent a team to secure their safety.”
“If they know where they are.”
There was a lapse of silence between them. How do you carry on a conversation about the imminent fate of a man’s loved ones, when the man is sitting right in front of you?
And then: “The Arab has ordered me to take this plane over the city within the next three hours and drop her to ten thousand feet. If I don’t do what they ask, then they’ll kill my wife and children.” He said this without emotion, treating the matter with indifference. But Kimball knew otherwise. Enzio was totally twisted on the inside.
Taking a seat at the navigator’s desk, with the laptop at the station, Kimball spoke in benevolent counsel. “Look, Enzio, I know you don’t know this, but the nuclear payloads on this plane are rigged with altimeters. Once you reach an altitude of ten thousand feet, then those weapons are set to go off.”
The pilot’s eyes started. “Ten thousand—” He looked at the plane’s altimeter, still holding level at thirteen plus.
“Despite what the Arab told you, the chance of your family getting through this safely may be unlikely. You know that. If you do as they ask, then the weapons will detonate and an untold number of people will die.”
“He promised that my family would be released if I do this because their death would serve no purpose.”
Kimball saw the anxiety in the pilot’s face. It was obvious that Enzio knew the truth, but desperately wanted to believe otherwise. “I’m sorry,” said Kimball, truly feeling bad for him. “Nobody deserves any of this — especially you and your family. But you can’t follow through based on an empty promise.”
The pilot checked his watch once again. He now had two hours and twenty minutes left to comply with the young Arab’s order. I’m damned if I follow through and damned if I don’t. Which personal Hell do I choose?
From the pilot-side window a Fighting Falcon appeared, the pilot tapping his helmet for Enzio to flip the ‘RECEIVE’ switch, which he did.
“… Shepherd One, this is Two-Six-Four-Three, you have sustained significant damages to your portside… What is your status?…”
“Two-Six-Four-Three, we’ve lost an engine and seventy percent of aerodynamic ability. Fuel gauges remain steady, however. No other signs of current breaches.”
“… Shepherd One, what is your current status regarding hostile occupation?…”
Enzio pulled the lip mike close. “Two-Six-Four-Three, the situation has been neutralized. Shepherd One is no longer under—”