nuclear device, using General Spranger’s group of losers as mules. That’s why I was hired in the first place, and that’s why they kidnapped my wife and daughter-to lure me away from you. Of course, it didn’t work. They’re not very good at what they do.”
“At least you won’t survive this flight,” Liese said sharply.
“And do you think you will?” McGarvey asked. When she didn’t respond he turned back to Nakamura. “It left two questions: Who could afford to finance such a big project, and who would have the motive? In other words, what was the target?”
“Why did you turn to Japan?” Endo asked, his right hand resting loosely on the pistol.
“We wouldn’t have, except for the murder of Jim Shirley in Tokyo. It was a mistake on your part.”
Endo said something in Japanese to Nakamura, who responded in English. “We will be perfectly open and aboveboard here. The murder of Mr. Shirley was a mistake, at least in its timing. But we were given reliable reports that James Shirley was involved in financial dealings with the same party we were using to transfer funds into Ernst Spranger’s European bank accounts. It was a most unfortunate coincidence. But it still does not explain how you connected what was happening with me.”
“I was in Paris when the Airbus was shot down. I recognized one of the terrorists as an ex-STASI hitman. During the investigation the French found one of your encrypted walkie-talkies, and the same sort of device was found in Tokyo after Ed Mowry was killed.”
“There was more?”
“The French Action Service told me that they’d been investigating Spranger’s organization for some time, and with the cooperation of the Swiss they learned that Spranger had been recently paid a substantial amount of money in yen.”
“My name?” Nakamura asked.
“You could afford it, you have been very vocal and outspoken about your hate for America, and if TSI Industries were to be destroyed in a nuclear blast, you would stand to gain billions of dollars.” McGarvey smiled blandly as he tensed. “And, you stupid, vain little man, humble Japanese chauffeurs do not rise up to become multi-billionaires.
It’s the fatal flaw in your system.”
Nakamura reared back as if he had been slapped in the face.
“If you think you’ll get anywhere near U.S. territory with this aircraft, you are even more foolish than I thought.”
Liese grabbed her purse and started to pull out her gun. But Endo, his face a mask of rage, snatched his own weapon and leaped up, blocking her line of fire as McGarvey hoped he would.
Nakamura shouted something in Japanese, but it was too late.
At the last possible instant, McGarvey shoved aside his seatbelt, jumped up, body-blocked the charging Endo, and brought his left knee up into the Japanese’s groin with every ounce of his strength.
All the air left Endo’s lungs with a grunt as he fell back on top of Liese. She had managed to get her pistol out and it discharged, tearing through the man’s back into his heart, killing him instantly.
Nakamura jumped up from his seat with surprising agility for a man his age, and scrambled on the deck for Endo’s gun.
McGarvey roughly pushed him aside at the same moment Liese got herself untangled from Endo’s body, and brought up her weapon.
McGarvey was on her in two steps, snatching the gun out of her hand before she had a chance to fire, and nearly breaking her wrist in the process.
She was like a wild animal, hissing as she shoved Endo’s body completely away with almost inhuman strength. She jumped up directly at McGarvey, who managed to sidestep her charge. He hit her in the jaw with his right fist in a round house punch that snapped her head back, knocking her unconscious.
McGarvey spun on his heel, swinging the Bernadelli in a short arc, left to right.
But Nakamura was gone. Probably up to the flight deck to warn the crew. They were still hours from the U.S. West Coast which gave them a little leeway, but as desperate as they might be, Nakamura’s people would be very careful about firing any weapon at this altitude.
One of the stews screamed and an instant later there was a shot, and then a second, from somewhere forward and above.
McGarvey braced himself for the explosive decompression, but after a second or two, when it didn’t occur, he went to the half-open sliding door and cautiously looked out into the galley, toward the stairway and the door to the communications center.
The two young stewardesses were huddled together in the galley, a look of abject terror on their faces. They shrank back when they spotted McGarvey.
For a long beat McGarvey couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Two shots had been fired. At whom? The crew on the flight deck? Why?
But then it came to him in a rush, and he had the very bad feeling that it was already too late. Nakamura was insane, but he was also dedicated and brilliant.
Shoving the sliding door the rest of the way open, McGarvey stepped across to the stairway. There was no sound from above, only the dull roar of the jet engines.
He turned back to the young women. “Did Fukai-san go upstairs to the flight deck?”
The women shrank even farther back into the corner. They were shaking, tears coursing down their cheeks.
“This is important for all of us. We may be killed. Did he go upstairs?”
One of the stews nodded. “Hai,” she whispered.
“Is there anyone else up there except the pilot and copilot?”
The young woman shook her head.
“Where did the guards go?”
“They did not come with us.”
“What about in there?” McGarvey asked, motioning toward the communications bay.
“No one there. Fukai-san operates the equipment. No one else.”
“Hide yourself somewhere,” McGarvey said. “And no matter what happens do not come out until we have landed.”
Making sure that the Bernadelli’s safety catch was in the off position, McGarvey made his way upstairs. At this point it didn’t seem likely that any of them would survive this flight, but he’d at least wanted the young women out of the way for now.
Except for the light coming from the open door to the flight deck, the upper level was in darkness, all the windowshades pulled down.
He could see the pilot and copilot still strapped in their seats, slumped forward.
They were not moving.
Nakamura had killed them, leaving no one to fly the plane.
McGarvey cautiously came up the last two stairs at the same moment Nakamura stepped out of the shadows to the right.
“Don’t shoot or the bomb will explode,” the Japanese billionaire said. His voice was gentle, almost dreamy. In his right hand he held Endo’s Heckler and Koch, in his left a small electronic device like a television remote control, his thumb poised over the button.
McGarvey pointed the pistol at him. He could not miss at this range. The bullet would kill the man, but it would not exit his body to penetrate the pressure hull of the airplane.
Nor would it stop Nakamura from pressing the button, even if it was only by reflex action. If the man was telling the truth, and there was no reason to think he was not, the bomb would explode.
But before they made it to the West Coast, if they got that far with no one flying the plane, McGarvey told himself that he would have to take the chance. There was no other choice. But for the moment, at least, there was still a little time.
“What do you want?”
“Drop your gun.”
“I won’t do that,” McGarvey said. “You won’t shoot me, because I might manage to fire back, and the bomb
