Chapter 6 - Cargo Hold Confessions
The cockpit air turned instantly thin and sharp, the low hum of the avionics drowned out by the pounding of blood in my ears.
Tyler stood there in the narrow bulkhead doorway, his shoulders slightly hunched, the silver-plated lighter glinting in the dim amber glow of the instrument panel. For a second, my hands froze on the yoke. The temptation to pitch the nose down, throw the aircraft into a violent stall, and drop him right back onto the tarmac where he belonged warred fiercely with the rigid discipline drilled into me by a decade of military service.
"Get out of that jumpsuit, Tyler," I said, my voice dropping into a flat, lethal register that made him flinch. "We are at fourteen thousand feet over restricted airspace, and you are currently listed as an unauthorized saboteur on a classified military transport."
Tyler swallowed hard, stepping fully into the cockpit and letting the heavy bulkhead door click shut behind him. He dropped into the jumpseat, his eyes darting nervously toward the digital altitude readouts.
"I didn't mean for it to go this far, Claire," Tyler stammered, holding up his hands defensively. "You gotta believe me. I was just trying to write some custom code for a tech firm in Manhattan. They paid me fifty grand upfront. I didn't know they were linked to Vanguard Holdings or your commanding officer's security leaks!"
"Fifty thousand dollars," I repeated, my knuckles whitening against the leather steering yoke as I banked the jet slightly to correct our heading. "You sold my military ID access credentials, framed me for treason, and let our father tear apart my wedding gowns because of a fifty-thousand-dollar tech gig?"
"They said it was just a simulation test!" Tyler cried, his voice cracking with genuine panic. "They said my code would only run diagnostics on old server partitions! When I found out they used my key to breach Ramstein base and wipe your clearance file, it was already too late. They threatened me, Claire. If I didn't get on this plane and plant the secondary decryption drive in your navigation console, they said they'd make sure I took the fall for the whole federal indictment."
I stared at him through the reflection of the windshield. The same old Tyler. Always running, always finding a way to pass the buck, while everyone else cleaned up the wreckage of his selfish choices.
"Where is the drive, Tyler?" I asked coldly.
He hesitated, his fingers twitching toward the pocket of his greasy mechanic's jumpsuit. "In the side pouch of my duffel. But Claire, if you plug that drive into the main terminal, it's going to override our flight path. It's programmed to reroute us straight to a private airstrip in upstate New York—owned by Vanguard."
Before I could answer, a piercing red warning light flashed on the center console.
Avionics Override Warning: External Data Link Established.
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The autopilot disengaged with a sharp mechanical click, and the nose of the jet suddenly pitched down hard, plunging us into a rapid, uncontrolled descent toward a sea of grey clouds below.
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