The Templar Salvation

Chapter 62

Niner Mike Alpha, we have a problem. Unable to maintain cabin pressure. Request descent flight level one two zero.”

The controller was quick to respond. “Niner Mike Alpha, are you declaring an emergency?”

Steyl kept his tone even. “Negative, not at this time, Mike Alpha. We suspect an unlocked door. We need to depressurize, lock it, and repressurize. It’s happened before.”

“Roger, Mike Alpha. Descend at your convenience. No known traffic below you. Base of controlled airspace at eight thousand feet. Good luck.”

Steyl thanked the tower, then adjusted the autopilot pitch control wheel upward, causing the plane’s nose to tilt downward, and throttled back, dramatically reducing power from both engines. This made the aircraft think it was landing and triggered the landing gear alarm to remind its pilot to drop the gear. Steyl had anticipated the loud, continuous beep that wailed briefly through the cabin and hit a button by his right knee to kill it.

With its nose pitched down by fifteen degrees, the Conquest started a sharp descent from its cruising altitude of twenty-five thousand feet down to twelve thousand. It was the maximum cabin altitude the aircraft’s systems would allow Steyl to request, given that the cabin was already pressurized. Accordingly, Steyl turned the pressurization control knob clockwise to its maximum position, getting the compressors to raise the cabin altitude from its cruising setting of eight thousand feet to the less comfortable, reduced-oxygen equivalent of twelve thousand feet. At a rate of change of five hundred feet per minute, it would take eight minutes for the pressure to get there. Then, once inside and outside pressures were equalized, Zahed would be able to open the cabin door. The Iranian had told Steyl he wanted Reilly to have the longest fall possible, and although Steyl knew it was possible to open the door from a couple of thousand feet higher, twelve thousand was a safer bet. From that height, Reilly’s drop would last a little over a minute. Steyl knew that as far as Zahed was concerned, longer would have been better, but a minute was still long enough. It would still feel like an eternity to anyone, especially when that person was aware of what was lying in wait at the end of it.

REILLY HEARD THE ENGINES WHINE DOWN, felt the cabin pitch forward and the plane start to drop, and knew what was happening.

A spasm of fear rocked him, but instead of paralyzing him, it jump-started his mind and threw it into survival mode. There wasn’t much he could do, given how he was tied up, but he had to try something.

He glanced around. He view was limited by the partition to his right. He could only see the very back of the cabin. He saw a stack of cardboard boxes piled up behind the Iranian, and glimpsed the leather binding of an old codex poking out from the uppermost box. His mood darkened as he remembered that Zahed and his men were now in possession of the trove of Nicaea. He pulled his gaze away from the boxes and surveyed the rest of the space. He spotted a drawer with a green cross symbol on it, under one of the rear seats. The first aid kit. He imagined he’d find a small pair of scissors in there, scissors that could cut through his binds. There was a slight obstacle blocking his way to the kit, in the form of the Iranian, who was watching him like a falcon and caught Reilly’s wandering eyes.

Zahed didn’t say anything. Just brought up his good hand and did a small tsk-tsk wave of his forefinger while giving him a chiding look.

Reilly’s eyes stayed locked on the Iranian, and he managed a wry, relaxed smile. Which caused Zahed’s expression to tighten.

Reilly let out a small chuckle. It might not have been much, but right there and then, unsettling the Iranian, even just a little, felt really good.

CLOSE TO SIX MINUTES AFTER starting its descent, the Conquest leveled at twelve thousand feet. Steyl checked the cabin altitude reading. It was still working its way up to its target.

It was time to get Reilly into position.

He climbed out of his seat and joined Zahed at the back of the cabin.

“Which end do you want?” he asked Zahed.

“Take the legs.”

Steyl nodded.

He grabbed Reilly’s legs firmly and locked an arm around his ankles to keep him in place, then he stepped back, hunched in the low clearance of the cabin, and pulled him off the bench and onto the carpeted floor.

Then he started dragging him toward the cabin door.