Both Russians laughed at the comment. That was her cue.
She whirled to her right and raised her hand as if she were going to smack Grant in the face with her left hand. Grant made a show of twisting to avoid the slap. Their momentum carried them around so that they both rotated 180 degrees.
Grant struck the man behind him with a crushing blow to his shoulder. Trusting that Grant would live up to his billing as an expert in hand-to-hand combat, Morgan focused on her own guy. She grabbed the man’s pistol wrist, clasped his trigger finger, and bent it backward. The ligament snapped, causing the man to scream and drop the SIG.
The man elbowed her with the other arm, the point striking her in the ribs. She went to her knees but got back up and whipped around, grabbing the man’s hair as she slammed her shin into his thigh.
He cried out and went down. Morgan helped him, bashing his head into the pavement with a crack. The man went limp.
She looked up in time to see Grant’s opponent topple to the ground unconscious.
He stood, brushed his hands off, and walked over to Morgan. “You all right?”
She stretched her back. “I’ll be fine. Looks like you handled your guy almost as well as I handled mine.”
“His head had an unfortunate encounter with my knee.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Sorry about the ‘raging bitch’ comment.”
She pulled him to her and kissed him hard. Damn adrenaline.
When she let him go, she said, “I have to say, you are sexy as hell when you hit people.”
“You should see some video of my wrestling days.”
“I have,” she said with a smile. “Never missed one of your bouts.”
He grinned. “Why you little … And you let me think all this time that you hated me.”
“I could tell your ego was already big enough. No sense gushing over you.”
He chuckled and picked up one of the SIGs. “We have to show these guys to your bosses. Should be the proof we need to get the flight shut down. I’ll text Tyler to let him know that Colchev is down two more men.”
While Grant sent the message, Morgan scooped up the other gun and searched the man for any additional weapons or information about their plans. She came up empty and was about to tell Grant to wait here while she got security, but she didn’t need to.
Two policemen ran up to them, guns drawn. They saw the two men laid out, and pointed their pistols at Morgan and Grant.
“Drop your weapons now!” both of them yelled.
They let go of their guns and put up their hands.
“I’m a federal officer,” Morgan said.
“Show me your ID.”
“Don’t have it on me.”
The men exchanged looks, then one said, “On the ground! Do it!”
Morgan and Grant lay face down next to each other. As they were frisked, Grant said, “Maybe this isn’t going to go as smoothly as we thought.”
FIFTY-FOUR
Seething with anger, Colchev read the text message on Tyler’s phone and knew he’d have to alter his plan. According to Grant Westfield, Nisselovich and Oborski were in custody. Colchev knew they were too well-trained to talk, but without them the crew would be two passengers short when they got to the spaceplane. The flight director would certainly know something was wrong. They’d never get off the ground.
Only eight minutes remained until they were supposed to drive to the Skyward.
Colchev considered using the original passengers, who were now locked inside the hangar’s storage room, but he needed them alive, so he couldn’t take them on the spaceplane with him. He turned and eyed Tyler and Jess. Their sizes were slightly off: Tyler was taller than Nisselovich and Jess was shorter than Oborski, but they’d do.
Colchev picked up the pressure suits and thrust them at Tyler and Jess.
“Put these on.”
“Why?” Jess said.
“You two are going to be astronauts.” Seeing that they were about to protest, Colchev said, “If we don’t make it onto the Skyward, I will have no choice but to detonate the Killswitch on the ground. The gamma radiation will kill everyone at the air show. Now do it.”
Zotkin was already in his pilot’s uniform and helmet. Because he was going to fly the carrier jet, he didn’t need a pressure suit. The crash helmet and sunglasses would be enough of a disguise for him.
The three blue and gold pressure suits, however, were fully enclosed. The Skyward was pressurized, but the suits were required in the event of a hull breach. The lightweight material wasn’t exactly form-fitting, but it wasn’t nearly as bulky as the old suits the Apollo astronauts wore. While they were on the ground, a small slit in the base of the helmet allowed them to breathe. On the spaceplane the slit would be closed and an oxygen hose from the onboard environmental system could be plugged into the suit.
Colchev was wearing his, and the absence of air-conditioning in the hangar was beginning to make the suit stifling. Tyler and Jess struggled into the suits, which consisted of both an inner insulating layer — to protect against the freezing cold of the vacuum at seventy miles — and an airtight outer skin.
“What are you going to do with those men?” Tyler said, pointing at the storage room.
“They’re going to ensure my legacy,” Colchev said with a smile. “Did you recognize any of them?”
“Call me crazy,” Jess said. “but I’m pretty sure one of them is Trent Walden.”
“The action movie director?” Tyler said.
Colchev nodded. “Correct. He was supposed to be one of the passengers on the flight. The other passenger is a Russian producer named Mikhail Arshan. They were planning to film shots of the Earth from space for an upcoming movie they’re making together. They and ExAtmo thought it would be good cross-publicity for both ventures. Who better to reveal what I’ve accomplished here today?”
“You’re letting them live?”
“Of course. Not only will the Russian government have no doubt about my patriotism, but the Russian people will hear of my glorious triumph.”
“And the American government won’t rest until they bring you back here or kill you.”
Colchev smiled. “
Static from the pilot’s walkie-talkie told Colchev a call was coming in from the flight director. He left Zotkin to watch them while he answered.
“Yes?”
“We’re ready out here. Are you suited up?”
“Acknowledged.”
“Good. The driver is on the way to get you. Out.”
Colchev returned and gave Tyler and Jess their helmets. The mirrored visors would make them unidentifiable.
“I will be by the Killswitch at all times. The helmets stay on. If you take them off or you make any gestures for help, I will press the button. You understand?”
“We understand,” Tyler said. “If you do that, you’ll kill tens of thousands of people for nothing. And if you set it off in space, it’ll be just as meaningless.”
“Wrong! It will finally tip the scales in Russia’s favor. With this single action, I will change the equation that has dominated world culture since the Cold War ended. Now America will know what it’s like to be a second-class world citizen.”
“You don’t know my country very well. We’ll bounce back like we always do.”
