Andy McDermott: The Hunt For Atlantis

She examined his leg, seeing his trousers were soaked with blood. “Jesus! We’ve got to find some bandages-”

“No time. Get me to the cockpit, I’ve got to switch off the autopilot.”

Nina hauled him upright. A groan escaped Chase’s lips as new pain shot through his leg. “And then what?” she demanded.

“We’ve got to stop the virus from being released, then contact the authorities, warn them what Frost’s doing.”

“But what about the virus at the biolab?” she asked as she helped him limp towards the cockpit. “By the time you convince anyone that he’s trying to kill billions of people, he could already have another plane in the air!”

Chase paused midstep. “The biolab…”

“What about it?”

“I blew up the buildings, but the containment area’s still intact. We’ve got to destroy it.”

“How?” Chase looked away from her, at the aircraft around them. “Oh no…” She remembered the horrors of 9/11 all too vividly. Ground Zero was less than two miles from her apartment.

“Five hundred tons of plane and a full load of jet fuel’ll blow that place right open and incinerate everything inside,” Chase said grimly.

“But we’ll die! Except if-Are there any parachutes aboard?”

He shook his head. “There’s no way off. Unless…” His expression changed, and he twisted around to look behind him. “Forget the cockpit-help me into the hold, quick!”

Frost stood at his office window, surveying the still-smoking ruins of the biolab below. Beyond it lay the fjord, and the broken stubs of the bridge. Chase and his companions had caused a massive amount of damage to his property. He had already had calls from the local authorities demanding to know what was going on.

But none of that mattered. The containment area was intact, and despite somehow managing to board the A380 as it took off, Chase had failed to destroy it.

“Sir, the control tower just informed us that the plane is on its way back to Ravnsfjord on automatic,” said a man through his speakerphone.

“Any word from my daughter?”

“Not yet. Sir, air traffic control wants to know what’s going on.”

“Just tell them there’s been a minor malfunction and the Airbus is returning as a precaution.” Frost looked across the fjord at the airport. “When will it land?”

“About six minutes.”

“Keep me informed.” He closed the line, gazing into the distance for the first sign of the massive freighter. The lack of communication was a concern, as was the aircraft’s use of its emergency automatic systems-but the fact that the A380 was returning home told him his people were still in control. Chase would have tried to fly it elsewhere and alert the Norwegian authorities.

Once it landed, the situation could be contained.

The plan was still viable.

“These three, undo all the straps holding them down,” Chase ordered, pointing at the rearmost containers on the port side of the main hold.

“But then they’ll come loose when the plane moves,” said Nina, confused.

“They’ll do more than that. Go on, quick.” As Nina pulled the release levers on the securing straps, Chase limped to the controls for the cargo door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to blow the door.”

Nina froze. “You’re gonna do what?”

“We need to get these containers out of the way. See that bike?”

Nina looked back at the motorbike on its pallet. “Yes?” It suddenly struck her what Chase was thinking. “No! No way, you’re insane!”

“It’s the only way off! If we just jump out, we’ll still be doing over a hundred miles an hour-there’s no way we’d survive the impact!”

“As opposed to what’ll happen if we ride a motorbike out of the back of a flying plane?”

“So it’s not a perfect plan! But it’s better than being shot when we land!”

“I think the blood you’ve lost came straight from your brain,” Nina complained unhappily, but she continued to release the containers from the lugs in the deck.

Chase read the warning sign. “Okay,” he yelled when Nina had unfastened the last strap, “get back to the bike and hold tight!” She hurried up the hold as Chase let go of his injured leg to grip a fuselage spar with one hand. With the other, he turned the first of the two red-painted levers that fired the explosive bolts.

Then the second…

The cracks as the bolts detonated, severing the heavy hinges of the cargo door, were nothing compared to the ferocious roar of wind and engine noise as the door blew out. A hurricane-force gale screamed into the hold. The A380 was descending, so the aircraft didn’t depressurize, but it was still traveling at over three hundred knots.

The plane lurched. The computers were already trying to counteract the unexpected movement, but the first container shifted, moving backwards over the rollers set into the deck with a banshee shriek of metal against metal. It crashed against the container holding the virus, then plunged through the gaping hatch to be whipped away by the slipstream.

Chase watched it fall. They were still over the sea, but it would only be a few minutes before they made landfall.

The A380 swayed again as the autopilot compensated for the shift in its balance caused by the loss of the container. Another metal crate screeched over the rollers, slewing sideways-coming right for him!

He had nowhere to go, no way to dodge the container-

He let go of the spar and flung himself backwards. The blasting wind caught him, snatching him off his feet.

The rear frame of the cargo door bisected his vision like a knife blade. To its left was the narrow gap between the side of the virus container and the hold wall; to the right, open sky and certain death.

He hit the frame, pinned for a moment by the wind…

And was blown left.

He grabbed a strap and clung on as the loose container juddered over the rollers and fell through the door. The third container was right behind it like a train carriage, the A380’s sudden upwards lurch as it shed more weight sending it hurtling at him. It smashed into the container holding the virus and jolted to a stop less than an inch from Chase’s face. Then the wind hammering against its flat front flung it out of the hold into empty space.

The freezing gale hit him again. Eyes forced almost shut, he squinted up the hold. Nina clung to the container next to the bike. Through the door, he could see a dark line on the horizon ahead. The Norwegian coast.

Chase pulled himself around the mangled corner of the virus container. Each step on his wounded leg was like a spike being driven through his flesh. He continued forwards, using the straps on the starboard line of containers to drag himself towards Nina.

Once past the door, the wind lessened slightly. He reached Nina and the Suzuki, yelling over the roar, “Unfasten the bike and start it up!”

“What if there’s no gas in it?” she shouted back.

“Then we’re fucked! Get it ready-I’ve got to get back to the cockpit!”

“What for?”

“To switch off the autopilot!” Using the containers for support, Chase hobbled up the hold, emerging in the crew area. The bodies of the two guards had been thrown to the side of the cabin by the plane’s maneuvers, and Kari was now lying facedown at the foot of the stairs. He spotted his Wildey and tried to bend down to pick it up, but a fireball of pain in his leg deterred him. Get it on the way back , he decided.

He entered the cockpit and checked the autopilot display. As he’d thought, Kari had engaged all the plane’s automatic emergency systems. The A380 was following a course back to Ravnsfjord’s main runway, using signals from the ground to guide it in for a landing.