“They must have closed the airport.”
Jackie studied the slowly moving jets, then noticed two American Airlines agents walking rapidly down the concourse. Their expressions were strained and one of them was nervously talking into a handheld radio.
As word of the accident swept through the crowded terminal building, the young man from Embry-Riddle finally broke his silence. “There’s been a crash,” he announced in a loud voice as he continued to scan various frequencies. “American… they’re saying American sixteen-eighty-four went down — crashed just north of the airport.”
“What was the flight number?” boomed another young man.
“One-six-eight-four — sixteen-eighty-four.”
A murmur carried through the concourse as Jackie and Scott locked eyes. In the horror of the moment they felt stunned, saddened, and relieved to be alive. His face was close to hers, examining the deep pain in her eyes. The caring and concern she saw in his expression broke the paralysis of shock.
“Oh, God.” She trembled uncontrollably. “Eddy was on that plane — we would’ve been there, too.”
Scott’s senses were on full alert and the hair on his neck stood up. “Let’s go find out how bad it is,” he said solemnly as he gently took her by the arm. “Come on, just start walking.”
Visibly shaken by the incident, the young college student lowered his transceiver from his ear. He caught Scott’s eye, then spoke in a hollow voice. “According to the reports I’m hearing, they went straight in.”
“My God,” Jackie said in a soft, flat voice. Her lip quivered as she remembered her friend’s infectious smile and eccentric bow ties. “Eddy,” she murmured with a sob. “That could have been us in…” She trailed off, unable to get the rest of it out. “Oh, my God… why?”
When Scott reached for her, she gratefully embraced him and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. He held her close and absorbed the shudders that shook her body. Fate had intervened. By the grace of God, they had dodged the Grim Reaper.
Horrified and shaken by their close brush with death, Scott looked around the immediate area. His instincts were screaming, Khaliq Farkas. He’s here, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. The sick little bastard just took out a plane full of antiterrorist experts.
Scott cupped the back of Jackie’s head and held her more tightly to his shoulder. Did Farkas know we were scheduled to be on the plane?
“Jackie,” he said in a barely audible voice. “Look at me.” He paused to compose himself. “I don’t think the crash was caused by the weather. I think—” He stopped when she pulled away.
Jackie stifled a sob and looked into his eyes for a long moment. The realization suddenly hit her, causing her stomach to twist into knots. “You think it was sabotage?”
“Yes,” he said in a calm voice that left little doubt about his conviction. “I’m almost positive.”
“Farkas?” she asked as a sense of terror gripped her.
Scott frowned. “Think about it. He was spotted in Wyoming — flying a military jet — and now a plane full of terrorist experts crashes.”
“You’re right,” she said weakly, staring into his eyes. “Did he know we were going to be on that flight?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
Dalton studied the throng of people in the concourse, then turned to Jackie. “He prefers explosives that are triggered by radio control transmitters — the type used for model planes and boats.”
“I know,” she said, meeting the narrowed probe of his gaze. “He would have to be fairly close to his target to detonate the charge.”
“If he did it, he isn’t far away.” Scott’s eyes traveled to a young couple who were obviously from the Middle East. “He could be watching us as we speak. Keep an eye out for anything strange.”
She shivered, then cautiously looked around the immediate area. “Let’s get moving — we don’t have a second to lose.”
He took her by the arm and headed toward the entrance to the concourse. After working their way through the crowd, they raced to the area where transportation was available for arriving passengers. Jackie cast a glance at the line of taxi-cabs and limousines while Scott surveyed the crowd.
“I’d like to shoot him on sight,” Jackie said with a mixture of pain and bitterness. “We need to find out if there’s an A-4 Skyhawk here at DFW, or at any of the other airports in the area.”
“You’re right,” Scott agreed, then stopped dead in his tracks. He was staring at a familiar face, but something was strangely out of kilter. The man was dressed in the uniform of an American Airlines captain, complete with an ID badge and a chart case hanging from his left hand. Farkas saw Dalton at the same instant and stared in disbelief.
“Oh, shit,” Scott exclaimed in shock as Jackie whirled around in total surprise. “It’s him!”
Farkas drew a handgun from the chart case, then ran twenty yards to a waiting taxi and yanked the front passenger door open. Scott started toward the cab and then shoved Jackie behind a minivan when Farkas fired three shots at them. Two rounds ricocheted off the side of the van inches from Scott’s face. The third bullet shattered the windshield of a Toyota, narrowly missing the startled driver.
After a moment of disbelief, the shocked bystanders began running in every direction as the taxi made a jackrabbit start, then sped off. Scott could see that Farkas had his gun shoved against the driver’s head.
“He’s getting away,” Jackie shouted in frustration.
Without hesitating, Dalton raced toward a new Lincoln Town Car that had been temporarily deserted by its frightened owner. The engine was running and the trunk was wide open, waiting to receive a set of luggage stacked neatly on the curb.
“Notify the authorities,” Scott yelled to Jackie as he slid behind the wheel and placed the car in gear.
“I’m going with you,” she exclaimed as she jumped into the front seat. “We’re right on top of him! Go!”
“Hang on!” Scott said as he floored the Lincoln. The car lurched to the left at a forty-five-degree angle and careened off the side of a shiny red Jaguar.
“We’re off to a helluva start,” Jackie said breathlessly as she hurriedly buckled her seat belt.
“Yeah, that’s always a crowd pleaser,” he deadpanned. “Next time I steal a car, remind me to point the front wheels in the direction I want to go.”
“I’ll work on it.”
With the headlights on and the windshield wipers flailing, Scott drove with wild abandon through the maze of airport roads. After bouncing off a curb and sliding through a grassy area, they spotted the commandeered taxi in the midst of dozens of flashing lights.
Accelerating on International Parkway, Scott rapidly closed the distance between the Lincoln and the cab. Both cars were dodging law enforcement and emergency vehicles as a steady stream of flashing lights rushed toward the crash site. To Scott’s amazement, the police were ignoring the speeding cars. Approaching the curve to Northwest Highway, the taxi began to swerve violently back and forth across the wet parkway.
“They’re struggling,” Jackie said a moment before the cab-driver’s side window exploded into a million glass fragments.
“He shot him,” Scott shouted above the screaming engine.
“Don’t get too close!” she warned.
“I’m going to ram him!”
“No.”
A few seconds later Farkas shoved the taxi driver out of his car. The mortally wounded man tumbled and flipped like a rag doll.
“Watch out!” Jackie warned.
Scott yanked the wheel to the left, barely missing the driver. The Town Car skidded sideways as Scott fought for control. Once he corrected the slide, he nailed the accelerator and started closing on Farkas.