She had to find Tyler Locke.
TWO
As his Hummer limo glided up to a bright blue jet parked at the ramp of the Bob Hope Burbank Airport’s executive terminal, Rex Hayden took another swig of Bloody Mary in an attempt to take the edge off his pounding hangover. He’d been up all night partying after the Friday night premiere of his new movie. Now he was paying the price for two girls and three bottles of Cristal. Even with his shades, the morning sun made him wince. Thank God Burbank allowed celebrities like him to bypass all that crap at the security checkpoints.
Sydney would be the first stop on a grand tour of Asia to promote his latest action blockbuster. His customized Boeing Business Jet didn’t have enough fuel to make it all the way to Australia in one shot, so they would have to go out of their way to refuel in Honolulu. But spending more time on the plane wasn’t a hardship. He had purchased the modified 737 because it was the most luxurious thing with wings. A private bedroom, full galley, gold fixtures, enough room for his buddies to come along, and two smoking hot flight attendants that he’d selected himself. The plane was a flying hotel. It cost $50 million, but so what? He deserved it. At the age of 30, he was already one of the biggest actors in the world. His last film had made more than a billion dollars worldwide.
Hayden tossed back the last of his drink and staggered out of the limo, his entourage following. Billy and J- man were on their cell phones, and Fitz handled the luggage. Three more cars pulled up behind carrying the gaggle of people that managed his career: agent, manager, PR person, personal trainer, nutritionist, and a dozen others. Traveling with such a large group made the plane a necessity, and the best part was that his contract required the studio to reimburse him for the operating costs during the trip.
“Which bags do you want with you on the plane, Rex?” Fitz asked. “Or should they all go in the cargo hold?”
Hayden didn’t need Fitz’s stupid questions right now. His hangover threatened to make him sick. He couldn’t do that out on the tarmac. Not in front of everyone. Man, he needed some caffeine.
“Dammit, Fitz, what do I have you around for?” he said. “Maybe my brother was right about you. I’m sick of making every little decision for you. Just get it all on board.”
Fitz nodded quickly, and Hayden saw the fear in his face. Good. Maybe next time he’d grow a pair and do his job.
“Okay, you heard him,” Fitz said to the driver. “And make sure they all get on. Miss one, and you couldn’t get a job driving a hearse.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said meekly and started handing suitcases to the airport’s baggage handler.
Hayden climbed the stairs and ordered Mandy, one of the flight attendants, to pour him a coffee. Billy, J- man, and Fitz quietly sat around him while the rest of the passengers took seats in the front section. Hayden sank into one of the lambskin recliners and watched the limo pull away. He pushed the button linking him to the cockpit.
“George, let’s go.”
“Aloha, Mr. Hayden,” the pilot said. “Looking forward to the islands?”
“I’m not getting off the plane in Honolulu,” Hayden said, “so just cut that crap. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mandy closed the door. The jet’s engines spooled up, and the 737 began to taxi toward the runway.
The caffeine did the trick, and Hayden’s headache began to ease. Now that he was feeling better, he let his eyes settle on Mandy. He knew how he was going to use his private bedroom over the next 15 hours.
After exiting the executive terminal parking lot, Dan Cutter stopped the Hummer limo along the side of Sherman Way and threw the driver’s hat onto the passenger seat. He got out and popped the hood to make it look like he had engine problems. Then he sat in the driver’s seat and flipped on the radio scanner to listen to the control tower communicating with the taxiing 737.
Getting the bag onto the plane had been even easier than he thought it was going to be. Cutter knew that Crestwood Limos was Hayden’s preferred company, so he had simply called to cancel the reservation and showed up himself.
He knew those celebrity types. They didn’t pay any attention to the staff, never even asked for his name. They simply assumed he was their assigned driver and that all the bags would get on, so they didn’t see him put an extra one on with the others. When that little chump named Fitz had threatened him, Cutter had momentarily entertained the notion of snapping the pissant’s neck, just to show him how unimportant he really was. But then he remembered his mission. The faithful leader’s vision. Everything they had worked for the past three years. Getting the bag on the plane was far more important.
It had been Cutter’s suggestion to test the device on Hayden’s plane. A long distance flight over water was exactly what they needed. The wreckage would be three miles deep, so the plane wouldn’t be recovered even if it were found. Plus, it had the added bonus of Hayden. He had been a thorn in their sides for months, bringing undue attention to the cause. And the press would go into a feeding frenzy when the plane of one of the world’s biggest stars crashed, providing the perfect distraction.
Bringing the device onto a commercial airliner for the test would have been much riskier. As checked baggage, it would have been out of his control for most of the time, during which too many things could go wrong. The device could be discovered, or it could simply be left off the plane for some reason and put onto another plane. Not to mention that whoever traveled with the bag would have to go with it; for security reasons, airlines regularly removed bags when the passenger was not on board. With Hayden’s plane, Cutter had seen the bag go into the cargo hold himself, and now he could watch it take off, with him standing safely to the side.
The tower gave permission for Hayden’s 737 to taxi to the runway. Right on time, as Cutter knew it would be. If it hadn’t, Hayden would have gone berserk. Guys like that thought the world revolved around them.
Now was the time. He opened his cell phone and navigated the address book until he found the entry he had programmed in:
The 737 came to a stop at the end of the runway. On the scanner, Cutter listened for the tower to give permission to take off.
“Flight N-348 Zulu, this is Burbank tower. Hold short of the active and await further clearance.”
“Acknowledged, tower. What’s the problem?”
“We’ve got a fuel spill on the runway. Leaking truck.”
“How long? My boss isn’t going to like a long wait.”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Should I head back to the ramp?”
“Not yet. I’ll keep you informed.”
“Gotcha.”
Cutter stared at the idling 737 in horrified disbelief, kicking himself for activating the device before permission to take off was given. A lengthy delay could be a disaster. The weather was perfect, so he hadn’t anticipated a delay. Now that the device was active, there was no way to turn it off. It was already working. If the plane returned to the ramp, he would have to get the device back somehow. That would be extremely problematic, not to mention dangerous. It was already too lethal to interact with. As the plane sat there, he was helpless. So he did the only thing he could. He prayed.
Cutter leaned on the wheel, his eyes shut tight, his hands clasped together, praying with all his heart that his mission would go on. God would not forsake him. His faith would overcome.
His entire life, Cutter knew he was destined to serve a greater purpose, and he was willing to lay down his life to attain it, as all his brethren were. It was only after he left the Army, where he had gained the skills necessary to carry out God’s plan, that he learned what that greater purpose was, and he had pledged himself to it without reservation. The acts he had committed to ensure a better future might be seen as barbaric to those who did not
