‘What are you gonna do?’
‘I’m gonna try to stop them.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a good idea —’
The satellite phone cuts out. Judd looks at its blank screen, thumps it with the heel of his hand. No use. It’s as dead as disco. He drops it to the ground.
His mind races. How did Thompkins get it so wrong?
He stands, his body stiff, his head still thumping. His eyes lock on Atlantis and the Galaxy. Is Rhonda in one of them? And if she is, is she okay? There’s only one way to find out.
He runs towards them.
36
Severson places his BlackBerry back on the table. No one in authority can know what Judd just told him otherwise they will put him on a plane and fly him out to Central Australia and he’s not letting that happen. No way, no how.
Instead he will pretend the conversation never took place. He rolls over, buries his head in the pillow and wills the gods of sleep to whisk him off to the land of Nod.
It doesn’t work. His mind races. Judd said he was going to ‘try to stop them’, which didn’t sound like a good idea at all. In fact it sounded like a great way to get killed.
‘Not my problem!’ Severson says it out loud to make sure he understands it. He buries his head deeper in the pillow, squeezes his eyes shut.
Sleep will not come. His eyes blink open and he looks up at the ceiling. ‘Man!’
Judd needs his help.
Severson has always considered himself a loner. He doesn’t have ‘friends’ per se; acquaintances and work colleagues, yes, admirers and allies and lovers, absolutely. But friends? No. Sure he can be Mr Charisma when it suits circumstances but the underlying code he lives by is ‘Every man for himself.’
But Judd’s his friend, isn’t he? Severson enjoys his company and doesn’t keep him at arm’s length like everyone else. He’s had a soft spot for the guy ever since Columbia, when Severson saw how deeply the accident affected him. Severson respected Judd for that, envied him almost, because it was something Severson didn’t feel himself.
So yes, Judd Bell is his friend. Severson sits up in his bed. The revelation comes as an unhappy surprise.
‘Knock knock.’ Severson says it as he lightly raps a knuckle on the door. A moment passes, then it opens.
Captain Mike Disser pokes his head out, a drowsy scowl on his face. ‘What?’ Clearly he’s still annoyed about the whole ‘fear of heights’ thing.
Severson holds up his BlackBerry. ‘Just received an interesting call.’
37
Atlantis and the Galaxy are further away than Judd realised. He still has a fair way to go and isn’t exactly eating up the distance even though he’s running as fast as he can.
He uses the time to plan. The way he sees it he has three options to stop the Galaxy from taking off.
Option A is to shoot out the Galaxy’s tires. It seems like a good idea, but an airliner’s tires are so hard and turn so fast during takeoff there’s a good chance the bullet will be deflected. For it to work the pistol’s muzzle will need to be almost point blank with the rubber, and because big jets like the Galaxy have so many tires he’ll need to shoot out a few of them. It’ll be easier if the jet’s stationary, but that means he needs to get to it before it starts moving.
Option B is to shoot out one of the Galaxy’s engines. Again, it seems like a good idea, but it only seems that way. A turbofan is a highly complicated piece of machinery and introducing a speeding bullet to the operating mechanism could, literally, destroy it. That, in turn, could destroy the Galaxy’s wing, which is full of fuel, so then the whole jet would explode, which would, in turn, incinerate the shuttle and everything on board, including Rhonda.
Option C is firing at the pilot in the Galaxy’s cockpit. Judd will be shooting from the ground, a long way away from windscreen, so he’ll need to be super accurate and he’s not sure the bullet would even crack the glass from that distance.
He locks eyes on the Galaxy. He’s closer. Whichever option he chooses he’ll need to make a decision soon.
38
The Harrier Jump Jet is the finest vertical take-off and landing fighter jet ever built. The Pegasus engine nestled within this particular example howls eagerly as the aircraft sits on the deck of the USS George H. W. Bush, its delta wings drooping languidly by its sides.
Eleven minutes is all it took. From the moment Severson lightly rapped his knuckles on Disser’s door to sitting in this Harrier AV-8C, a two-seater variant normally used for training.
Disser’s strapped into the pilot’s seat, his jaw set. Suited and helmeted he’s ready to take on the world. Severson’s strapped into the trainee’s seat behind him. He’s also suited and helmeted, but that’s where the similarity ends. His jaw is slack and he’s ready to go back to bed.
That won’t be happening any time soon. The USS George H. W. Bush is parked off Australia’s northern coast and Disser’s unit is the closest option for a flyover to check Judd Bell’s intel about Atlantis’s position. Even though marine units have already been dispatched to Tunisia, Disser decided on a quick reconnaissance mission over the area Judd Bell identified. As he expected, Severson has been forced to come along for the ride. Disser told the astronaut that if he didn’t he’d tweet his secret to the world and Severson’s positive the honking bastard would do it.
So they now await clearance for take-off. Severson’s face is pale and his stomach tender. He can’t stop thinking about the attack choppers Judd mentioned. He speaks into his helmet’s microphone: ‘Please, you’ve got to let me outta here.’
Disser’s voice honks in his earpiece. ‘You know the shuttle, sir, I don’t. I will need your expertise if we find it.’
‘No, you won’t. You’re a smart guy. Just improvise. You’ll do fine.’
‘One tweet, sir. That’s all it’ll take —’
‘I know! Jeez. Look, I just, I don’t have a good feeling about this.’
‘The only thing you have a good feelin’ about is being a pussy, sir. It’s time to man up and face your fear.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s not that time at all.’
‘I’m going to help you do it. You inspired me when I was a kid so now it’s time I pay you back.’
‘But I don’t want you to pay me back —’
Both their headsets buzz as Flight Control grants them clearance. Disser barks an acknowledgment then opens the Harrier’s throttle. The Pegasus engine runs up.
‘Hold on, sir, it’s time to jump off this boat.’
Severson grips the side of his seat and jams his eyes shut as the Harrier leaps off the deck then banks hard over the methylene blue ocean and howls away.
39
Edgar has been gardening like a mofo but his wife has yet to decide if he can leave this godforsaken compound and take that trip to Jakarta. He’s meant to fly out this afternoon but it’s not looking good. The Ukrainian maid incident has really bitten him on the arse, and not in the way he likes.
The idea that he’ll have to stick around for his sister-in-law’s birthday party, which his wife is throwing tomorrow, is too depressing for words. He could always try to slip away but he knows he won’t get far. The fools from the secret service are everywhere, monitoring his every move — there’s one sitting at the far end of the room right now, staring at him.
Edgar slumps onto the sofa and flicks on the television. This is what his life has become: gardening and Fox News. Christ. Shepard Smith is filing an update on the shuttle hijacking from Florida. It would seem that nobody has the first clue where it is or who the hijackers are. What a mind-boggling screw-up it is. If Edgar was still in charge someone would be getting their arse good and kicked over this right now.