“Open up.”

Silence.

“Captain?”

“I’m trying.”

A long pause.

Then three electronic tones sounded.

The cockpit door unlocked.

Mara stepped back.

Claire reached for it.

Before she touched the handle, the captain spoke again through the intercom.

“Bennett.”

“Yes?”

“There’s something else.”

His breathing became ragged.

“The autopilot disconnected by itself five minutes ago.”

Claire stopped.

“But you said it was engaged.”

“I re-engaged it.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed.

“And?”

“It disconnected again.”

“Electrical fault?”

“No warning.”

“Flight-control fault?”

“No warning.”

Claire gripped the handle.

Then the captain said something that made every muscle in her body tighten.

“I don’t think this aircraft is malfunctioning.”

Claire slowly opened the cockpit door.

Inside, one pilot lay motionless across the center console.

Another had collapsed against the rear cockpit wall.

The captain barely held himself upright.

And taped beneath the throttle quadrant was a small black device with a blinking green light.

Claire stared at it.

It did not belong there.

The captain followed her gaze.

His lips moved.

“We have someone controlling this airplane.”

The green light blinked again.

Then the cockpit screens went black.

Chapter 2 - Thirty Seconds of Darkness

Claire reached across the cockpit and shouted:

“Do not touch your oxygen mask!”

Captain Daniel Ross lifted one trembling hand toward the panel.

Beside him sat a cracked digital timer.

Its display showed:

00:29.

Claire saw the wires.

Someone had started a countdown.

Every cockpit screen died at once.

For one second, Flight 271 became a machine moving through darkness.

Claire heard alarms.

Not one.

Several.

The sound was enough to overwhelm an untrained person.

She shut everything else out.

Altitude.

Attitude.

Power.

Control.

Those were the priorities.

Always.

“Battery backup?” she demanded.

Captain Ross pointed weakly.

“Standby instruments.”

Claire found them.

Small.

Independent.

Still alive.

They were descending.

Not sharply.

But enough.

“Autopilot?”

“Gone.”

Claire slid into the first officer’s seat.

The unconscious man was still partially slumped across the controls.

“Mara!”

The flight attendant appeared.

“Help me move him.”

Together they pulled the first officer backward.

He was breathing.

Barely.

Claire checked his mask.

Loose.

She tightened it.

“Get the doctor up here.”

“The doctor is with the girl’s mother.”

“Find another medical professional.”

Mara disappeared.

Claire placed both hands on the controls.

The aircraft felt heavy compared with anything she had flown in combat.

But airplanes still spoke the same physical language.

Pitch.

Roll.

Thrust.

Trim.

Claire eased the nose upward.

The descent slowed.

“Captain Ross, stay with me.”

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re fading.”

“I know.”

“What aircraft systems can still be trusted?”

He looked toward the dead displays.

“Apparently none.”

“Comms?”

“Maybe standby.”

Claire tested a radio.

Nothing.

She changed frequency.

Static.

Another.

Static.

“Transponder?”

“No indication.”

Claire glanced at the small black device.

“What is that?”

Ross shook his head.

“Never seen it.”

“Could it be airline equipment?”

“No.”

“Security tracker?”

“No.”

“Maintenance diagnostic?”

“No.”

Claire looked at the blinking light.

“Then nobody touches it.”

Ross breathed painfully.

“You think bomb?”

“No.”

“You sound confident.”

“I’m not.”

That shut him up.

A small emergency display flickered alive.

Claire saw their approximate heading.

Wrong.

They were no longer tracking toward Madrid.

The aircraft had turned north.

“When did that happen?”

Ross squinted.

“I didn’t command it.”

Claire felt the control pressure.

Someone—or something—was interfering.

She moved the yoke.

The aircraft responded.

Then resisted.

Claire pushed harder.

The nose obeyed.

For three seconds.

Then rolled left on its own.

Claire countered.

“Remote control?”

Ross whispered.

“I thought modern airliners couldn’t be hijacked electronically like that.”

“They’re not supposed to.”

The timer beside him showed fourteen seconds.

Claire pointed.

“What is that?”

Ross looked.

His face changed.

“That wasn’t there earlier.”

Claire’s stomach tightened.

The timer looked homemade.

A small plastic casing.

Two wires.

A digital display.

No obvious explosive.

“Don’t touch it.”

Ten seconds.

Nine.

Eight.

Ross tried to sit straighter.

“What happens at zero?”

“We find out.”

“Comforting.”

Seven.

Claire adjusted power manually.

The engines responded.

Good.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The timer reached zero.

Nothing exploded.

Instead, one cockpit screen illuminated.

Only one.

White text appeared against black.

HELLO, CAPTAIN BENNETT.

Claire stopped breathing for half a second.

Ross looked at her.

“You know whoever this is?”

“No.”

The screen changed.

YOU TOOK LONG ENOUGH.

Ross stared.

“They expected you.”

Claire said nothing.

A second line appeared.

FLY NORTH.

“North to where?” Ross muttered.

The screen answered as if it had heard him.

YOU WILL KNOW.

Claire’s skin prickled.

“Microphone.”

Ross looked at her.

“What?”

“They may have cockpit audio.”

She leaned toward the panel.

“Who are you?”

No response.

“Why me?”

The screen remained blank.

Then:

YOU ALREADY KNOW WHY.

Claire’s hands tightened around the controls.

She did not.

At least that was what she told herself.

“Captain,” she said quietly. “Do you know why my military background appeared in the passenger notes?”

Ross’s eyes barely stayed open.

“Special handling code.”