Chapter 11 - The Airfield That Didn't ExistThe runway Warren had chosen wasn't on modern charts. It was on a map only dead men were supposed to remember.
The altitude fell through twenty thousand feet.
I took control.
“Gear status?”
Douglas checked.
“Locked.”
“Hydraulics?”
“Partial.”
“Flaps?”
“Limited.”
I looked toward the captain.
Still unconscious.
No time.
I took a breath.
The old airfield was sixty miles ahead.
At our current speed, eight minutes.
The storm was behind us.
The runway was ahead.
And nobody knew we were coming.
Except someone had deliberately left the coordinates waiting for us.
That bothered me.
“Who put this airfield into the system?”
Douglas shook his head.
“Not me.”
“Not Crowe?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Before he could answer, the radio clicked.
An unfamiliar voice.
“You finally remembered.”
I stared at the microphone.
“Who are you?”
“You've known me your entire life.”
My stomach tightened.
The voice belonged to a woman.
Older.
Calm.
I looked at Norah.
Then at Victor.
Victor whispered:
“No.”
I recognized the name before he said it.
“Evelyn.”
The woman laughed softly.
“Hello, Warren.”
My wife's sister.
The woman who was supposed to be dead.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“On the ground.”
“Where?”
“Waiting for you.”
I checked the coordinates.
She was there.
At the airfield.
“Why?”
“Because your wife asked me to finish what she started.”
The aircraft shook.
I focused on flying.
“What's waiting for me?”
“Answers.”
“I don't trust you.”
“You shouldn't.”
That honesty surprised me.
Then Evelyn said:
“Warren, listen carefully.”
I did.
“The bomb under the plane isn't there to kill the passengers.”
“I know.”
“It is there to destroy one specific thing.”
“What?”
“The evidence.”
I looked at the teddy bear.
Norah clutched it.
“Inside the bear?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
Evelyn said:
“Your daughter's bracelet.”
I looked down.
Norah wore a small silver bracelet.
The one her mother had given her when she turned four.
I suddenly remembered.
Norah had never taken it off.
I looked at the clasp.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
“What is on it?”
“The Black Meridian key.”
The plane shook again.
Douglas shouted:
“Five minutes!”
I looked ahead.
The airfield appeared.
Abandoned.
Overgrown.
A cracked runway surrounded by forest.
No lights.
No tower.
No emergency vehicles.
Nothing.
“That's impossible,” Douglas whispered.
I smiled faintly.
“Good.”
I lowered the landing gear.
The aircraft descended.
The bomb timer read three minutes.
Norah watched me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are we landing?”
“Yes.”
“Is the plane going to break?”
“Not if I can help it.”
She nodded.
Then she looked at her bracelet.
“Mom told me never to let anyone take this.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
Norah looked up.
“Because Grandpa wants it.”
The runway approached.
I lined up.
Flaps.
Speed.
Crosswind.
Everything had to be perfect.
Then the runway lights came alive.
One after another.
Red.
White.
Red.
White.
I knew that pattern.
It was the signal system from my old military unit.
A code only three people in the world would know.
My wife.
General Crowe.
And me.
But my wife was dead.
Crowe was supposed to be dead.
Which left one possibility.
I stared at the runway.
May you like
And whispered:
“She's here.”
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