The Hunt For Atlantis

two-kilometer-long runway.

Chase kept his eyes fixed on the aircraft as he accelerated, clicking up through the Ferrari’s gears. The blasting wind forced him to squint, eyes streaming, but all he had to do was keep going in a straight line.

He had never been aboard an A380, knew almost nothing about its internal layout beyond it being a double- decker. But that was the passenger version-this one was a freighter, meaning he was even more in the dark. He would have to wing it when he got on board.

He would have to wing it to get on board. Trying to block the plane’s takeoff with the Ferrari would be like trying to stop a tank with a cardboard box. The enormous aircraft would blow the sports car aside as if it weren’t even there.

And he couldn’t try to stop the plane by shooting at it-there was too much risk of killing Nina if it caught fire or crashed as a result.

Although if it meant stopping the virus then it might have to be a necessary sacrifice-with himself going the same way…

He was doing over 140, barely able to see the speedometer through his watering eyes. The A380 was a white blur ahead as it moved into its turn.

Whatever he was going to do, he had to think of it fast…

“Ms. Frost!” The pilot’s voice echoed over the intercom. “There’s a car on the runway!”

Kari went to the port side of the cabin to look down. “What?” she gasped. Nina peered past her. She saw the runway stretching off into the distance as the plane turned-and racing down it, a scarlet Ferrari convertible!

The car charged towards them at incredible speed, its lone occupant taking on form. Even at a distance she recognized the balding head behind the wheel the moment she saw it. “Oh my God! It’s Eddie!”

Kari reacted with shock, then went to the intercom. “This is Kari Frost. Under no circumstances are you to abort the takeoff. Whatever he does, get this plane into the air. That is an order.” She returned to the window. “What the hell is he doing?”

“Trying to stop you,” said Nina.

Kari set her jaw, her expression turning hard. “He won’t succeed.” She moved to the top of the stairs and shouted down to the guards, “Get your guns and open the hatch! Somebody’s trying to stop us from taking off-”

Nina realized that Kari’s back was to her, and she had only the lightest hold on the handrail.

She didn’t even have time to consider the thought rationally. Instead, she acted on pure instinct, rushing at Kari with both arms held out like battering rams and pushing her down the stairs.

Taken completely by surprise, Kari had no chance to stop herself from falling. She screamed as she tumbled down the metal steps, flailing limbs smashing against the hard edges, then hit the floor with a bang, bleeding and dazed.

Nina stared down at her almost in shock at what she’d done before instinct took over again. Fight or flight…

Flight!

She ran to the door at the back of the cabin, praying it wasn’t locked. It wasn’t. Darting through, she found herself inside the upper hold, a vaulted tunnel of bare metal ribs holding a line of cargo containers, rattling against their restraints. Banks of white LEDs mounted along the ceiling provided ghostly illumination.

There was no lock on the door. She hurriedly looked around for some way to secure it.

The nearest container was just a few feet away, held in place by thick straps attached to lugs in the floor. She yanked at what she hoped was the release lever. With a loud clack, the strap came free. She looped it behind a spar in the wall before tying it around the door handle, pulling it tight. It wouldn’t stop the door from being opened, but it would make it much harder for anyone to squeeze through the narrow gap.

She stepped back, looking down the hold.

The virus…

For the virus to be released in flight, whatever container it was in had to be somehow plumbed to the skin of the Airbus. If she could find the container, there might be some way to sabotage it.

Loud footsteps from the cabin: someone racing up the stairs.

Nina ran down the hold.

The A380 was about to complete its turn, and Chase was almost at the end of the runway. He wiped his eyes, trying to get a clear look at the aircraft. Under the fuselage were five undercarriage legs, one at the nose and the other four spreading out the plane’s weight as widely as possible.

When the undercarriage retracted into the plane’s belly, there should be access hatches he could use to enter the fuselage if he got onto one of the landing legs.

Might be access hatches, he reminded himself.

He had to take the chance. It was now or never. The A380’s four gaping engines were spinning up.

The Ferrari’s tires screeched again as he swerved to one side of the runway. Not to get out of the plane’s way, but to make as tight a turn as possible without losing too much speed, preparing to come in under the aircraft.

The cable gun was ready on the passenger seat beside him.

He would literally only get one shot-if he missed, there was a good chance he would die when the Ferrari was caught in the engine backblast. If he survived that, he would be dead soon after, killed either by Frost’s men or by his virus.

Even if he succeeded, he was probably dead anyway. But he had to try.

Heat scoured his face as he passed behind the engines on the left wing. The Ferrari threatened to spin out, and he eased off the accelerator slightly-if he made a mistake now, there would be no chance to catch up.

The hatch at the plane’s nose opened. Someone leaned out, a gun in his hand-one of Frost’s men looking for him.

The overstressed tires strained for grip-

Now directly behind the fuselage, Chase straightened the car, aiming between the two pairs of landing legs in the A380’s belly.

The engine noise rose to a scream, and the plane started to accelerate.

For its colossal size, the Airbus was frighteningly quick off the mark. Burning air blasted Chase like a hurricane as the Ferrari darted under the plane’s tail. The massive fuselage filled his vision, a giant hammer ready to crush him flat at any moment.

He was between the rear undercarriage legs, still outpacing the aircraft-but not for long.

He grabbed the cable gun.

Now he was level with the front landing legs, foot to the floor to keep up with the racing Airbus. A slight turn of the wheel brought him closer to the left leg, the four giant tires a whirling blur.

One shot.

The wheels were less than a foot from the Ferrari’s side.

As the plane pulled away, Chase aimed the cable gun into the undercarriage well.

One chance-

Fire!

The grapnel shot out, the line whipping behind it. It flew into the wheel well and struck the inner wall. If it fell out, it was all over…

It held!

The grapnel had pierced the metal bulkhead.

He only needed it to hold for a few seconds. Hitting the switch to retract the cable, he shoved the gun through the center of the steering wheel, looping the line back around on itself. Then he let go of