Chapter 23
Kasey was wired to be a forward-thinker. She always preferred to have a plan. The extreme situation in which she found herself, however, was unlike anything she’d ever faced.
To this point, she had mostly been reacting, making decisions in the moment to keep people alive. But now the situation had stabilized. And more critically, Chen was slowly getting back in the game. It was time for Kasey to seize control—but without drawing attention to the fact.
She found Sharpe in back, going over the cargo manifest. The life raft was holding, although it trembled with every gust of wind, and puffs of cold air crept in around the edges.
The storm continued unabated, the scene through the cabin windows a steady blur of wind-driven snow in the constant twilight.
“You found it,” she said, pointing to the iPad in his hand.
“I did,” he replied as he scrolled through electronic pages.
“Anything of use?”
“It shows three containers in the forward bay. The belly of the airplane took some damage, but I think I can reach them and hack my way in.”
“Hack?”
“The way the containers are loaded, I can’t access the doors. The only way to get inside is to breach a sidewall.” He pointed to the floor, and she saw a sturdy hand axe with an awl on the backside.
“Where did you get that?”
“Crash axe. Every airliner has one in the cockpit. In theory it’s a firefighting tool, along with asbestos gloves and a couple of fire extinguishers. I shouldn’t have any problem chopping through the side of a cargo container.”
“Okay. What exactly are we after?”
“There’s a load of auto parts encased in wooden packing crates. The crates should burn pretty well. There’s also a huge shipment of books from something called the Confucius Institute.”
“In any other situation,” said Kasey, “I’d be against book burning. But the Confucius Institute is a Chinese propaganda outfit aimed at American college students. It also beats freezing to death.”
“I’m sure we’ll come across paper and cardboard as well,” Sharpe replied.
He then gave her a curious look, probably wondering how she knew about the publisher and its propaganda aims. He seemed to move on.
“The passenger berths are trimmed in some kind of hardwood,” he added, pulling a small piece from his pocket.
“I pried this off no problem. Also found a cigarette lighter in a purse. It’ll take some work, but I think we can scavenge enough to get a small fire going. ”
“If nothing else, it’ll boost morale.”
“I figure a day and a half, and we’ll be out of here. It’s conceivable we could get a supply drop before then. The big variable is the weather—the sooner it breaks, the sooner help will arrive.”
“Then let’s hope for clear skies.”
Kasey made no mention of what Chen had just told her: If Sky Fire could acquire a good satellite signal, they might be able to send a call for help that included their precise location.
The challenge was to keep it from careening through the system’s normal channels back in China.
If that happened, there was no telling who would be first to their Arctic doorstep.
Sky Fire needed to be outside for its antenna to acquire the strongest signal.
Unfortunately, since Chen hadn’t tried moving yet on his injured leg, the job of sending the message fell to Kasey.
He told her how to configure the system to contact the CIA directly.
Not wanting to do that with Sharpe looking over her shoulder, she had to come up with a reason to go outside alone.
She didn’t like keeping him in the dark, but if she could expedite a safe rescue, everyone would come out ahead.
Everyone, that is, except the murderous MSS.
Her chain of thought broke when one of the raft’s tie-downs came loose in a heavy gust of wind. Kasey hurried over and resecured the line.
“This is going to take some maintenance,” she said.
“No doubt.” He turned up the collar of his trench coat. “Okay, no time like the present. You up for a treasure hunt?”
“Let’s do it.”
She pulled on a pair of wool gloves she’d found. They loosened the canopy at the entrance and stepped outside.
The cold hit like a frigid wave, biting into every inch of exposed skin.
They put their heads down and shuffled alongside the hull.
The jacket Kasey had scavenged from a carry-on bag had worked well inside the cabin, but against the raw wind it was far too thin.
She would have to come back outside later to send the message, and there was no telling how long that might take.
Finding better protection moved up on her list of priorities.
The damaged opening of the cargo bay loomed like a dragon’s lair. It was dark inside, but Sharpe had come prepared. He pulled two flashlights from his pocket and handed her one.
“There used to be a door,” he said, raising his voice over the wind and pointing into the distance, “but it ended up fifty feet over there.” He dragged away a few suitcases that were blocking the entrance, and soon they were inside.
The interior was equally cold, but the lack of wind was a relief.
The cargo bay was roughly five feet high—Kasey had to crouch a little, but she could stand.
They swept their flashlight beams to survey the place.
Forward and aft, the big composite cargo containers were mostly intact, only a few dents where the hull had compressed inward.
In the spaces between, suitcases of all shapes and colors were piled against the far wall, a tideline of canvas and plastic.
“You go through those,” he said, pointing to the luggage. “I’ll try to break into these containers.”
“Got it.”
The first suitcase Kasey opened was useless—it contained shopping bags full of makeup, a half dozen pair of high-heel shoes, and perfume.
Someone with an unhealthy fetish for Christian Louboutin and Chanel had spent an outrageous amount of money.
The next case was locked, and to deal with that she borrowed the crash axe from Sharpe.
After three careful blows, the latch gave way with a crack.
The suitcase fell open like a giant clamshell and she handed back the axe.
Kasey was buoyed by the first thing she saw: a pair of lady’s fur-lined leather gloves.
She tugged them on, and it was like putting her hands in an oven.
Beneath these she found a heavy winter jacket.
It was two sizes too small for Kasey but would probably fit the older Asian woman perfectly.
She started a pile of “keepers.” In the background she heard Sharpe hacking away at one of the containers.
They battered and sorted for thirty minutes. Kasey requisitioned two underlayers and a nice weatherproof jacket for herself, as well as a duffel bag full of gear for the others. Sharpe came out of a dim corner dragging a plastic box full of books, clothing, paper, and folded cardboard.
“I’d say this is a good start,” he said.
She handed over a men’s parka with a liner and hood, and a pair of leather gloves.
“Outstanding.” He took off the trench coat he was wearing and switched to the new jacket. “Not a bad fit.”
“Things are looking up,” she said. “I figure next on our list should be food and hydration.”
“That’s easy. We’ve got enough steak and lobster, not to mention nuts, cookies, and assorted snacks, to feed everyone for several days. And last I checked, the bottled water hasn’t frozen yet.”
“If it does freeze, we can thaw it using the fire.”
“There are also about three hundred liquor minis, although as I recall from my training, getting shit-faced isn’t a priority in a survival situation.”
Kasey grinned, less at the joke than for his willingness to attempt it. “Are you former military?”
“Yeah, Air Force.”
“Bet you thought you were done with survival stuff when you took this job.”
“Definitely. But it’s not like we’ll be out here for weeks. Help is probably already on the way. I only wish we had some kind of comm. I take it you didn’t find any sat phones in the luggage?”
“No such luck,” she said evenly.
“I came across one surprise.” He diverted to a shadow near one of the containers and pulled out an elongated case. Sharpe opened it and extracted a rifle. He expertly checked the chamber to ensure it wasn’t loaded.
“What kind is it?” she asked, knowing perfectly well it was a Winchester Model 70.
“Bolt-action Winchester—millions of them out there. There’s ammo and a scope as well. It’s tagged for a connecting flight to Montana, so I figure somebody was headed there for some hunting.”
“Might come in handy if anyone starts a mutiny,” she said lightheartedly, hoping to hide her dead-serious approval of the find.
Sharpe laughed for the first time, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. It was easy and natural, and Kasey imagined that on most days he did it a lot.
He slid the rifle back into the case and returned it to the shadows. They stepped outside hauling their bounty. The icy wind struck again, but its effect was muted by their new and improved outerwear.
They were halfway back to the cabin entrance when Sharpe paused. He set down his box and stared into the distance.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There’s something else we need to deal with.” He pointed to two mounds of snow fifty feet away. “There are two bodies over there. We also have the flight attendants in the forward galley and the man who just passed away. I think we should move them into the cargo hold.”
Kasey nodded. “Seems like the decent thing to do… for everyone’s sake. What about the other pilots?”
His light demeanor, which had flickered moments earlier, vaporized completely, crushed by the burden of reality. “I closed the door to the flight deck. It’s probably better to leave them where they are.”
“Okay.”
“I should do it,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“No,” she countered. “We agreed that food and drink are next on the list. You’re the only one who knows where everything is. I’ll deal with the remains. Nick can help me.”
He gave her a long look that was something between relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Kasey. It really helps to have somebody I can count on.”
“Glad to help,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go get our passengers warm.”
As they returned to the protection of the cabin, Kasey lagged slightly behind.
She scoped out the immediate area. She would be coming back soon, although not only to relocate bodies.
In her years in the CIA, she had performed more than a few strange tasks in order to complete a mission.
Never before had she volunteered for mortuary duty.
“First time for everything,” she whispered.
Her words went to vapor in the howling wind.