It was 9.00am when Max received a phone call from one of the bank managers he had paid to warn him of trouble. The moment he recognized the phone number, it felt as though he had received a blow to the solar plexus - he felt badly winded, sick and weak. Would he ever be free of his pursuers?
The manager told him someone was looking at his account, electronically. The intrusion had been flagged, but there was no trace of the intruder. He explained that the date and time of access to the file was not within normal banking hours, so it had to be from outside.
During the next 2 hours, other Banks reported unauthorized account access. Each time, the data was simply read, no theft or false transactions had taken place and no clue to the intruder.
It was The Organization. They had used their resources to track Max, following his trail of expenditure.
Max instructed each bank to isolate the bulk of each account by converting to cash and holding it in their vault. They would administer the account on paper, for a substantial fee.
To an outsider, this would look like the account had been emptied, without trace. Star had no reports regarding her accounts and this deepened Max’s fears. Whoever it was, they were only interested in him.
He drew cash by MoneyGram at the airport and tried to book a flight north west to Kawajalein Atoll, landing at Elenak Airport, some 550Km away. No one was prepared to make the journey that day, except a rather unusual female pilot. She was in her mid-thirties and moved with the grace of a kangaroo. She took very long strides and her slim body bounced up and down rhythmically.
Her small Britten-Norman BN-2 Islander, in white with a dark blue belly, looked pristine. It was a twin prop aircraft with 10 seats, one of the early models, built in 1970. It belonged to her late father and she took great care of it.
She agreed a price on the spot; apparently she was going there anyway with a cargo of inflatable life rafts. It explained why the passenger seats were lined up outside the aircraft.
An hour later, after dealing with formalities and filing the flight plan, they took off. The weather forecast had warned of tropical storms, but with everything organized and a good profit for the day’s work, Kate, the pilot took a risk that it was safe enough to fly.
As noon approached, the low black cloud lit up like flickering fluorescent lights, as lightning discharged within it. The strong cross winds buffeted the light plane, hard. The jolting dislodged the cargo and the large drum shaped life raft containers rolled forward, butting the back of the passenger seats. Star slackened her seat belt and reached over to push one away. It was punching through the thin fabric seat into her back.
Inadvertently, she pulled the release mechanism and the life raft proceeded to expand, filling the cross section of the cabin. If nothing else, it wedged the cargo in place.
With the deafening roar of the two engines, her headphones in place and intense concentration, Kate was unaware of the mishap.
The aircraft was at 1100m with a ground speed reduced to 120Km/hr. when the first lightning strike hit. It was a sudden, deafening bang and the cabin reeked of ozone. Kate had received strikes before. Nevertheless, she was as startled as her passengers. She was also gravely concerned because the electronics had been knocked out. There was no longer communication with the ground, or satellite navigation. It might just be a blown fuse, but she needed both hands on the controls, so the fuse would have to wait. The electro-mechanical instruments were not affected.
Star saw the large black burn on the wing top and burst into tears. She and Max were scared and powerless. All they could do was sit there and hope for the best.
“Don’t worry,” shouted Kate over the bedlam, “the aircraft is well able to take a few strikes - it sounds worse than it is.”
The truth was that Kate was very anxious. The electro-mechanical instruments were only useful in a general sense and she relied on the satnav to maintain her course to the destination. She could maintain the same heading, but the cross wind would drive them sideways and they would miss the large atoll by tens of miles. There would be no way to see land in this visibility, unless it was just a few miles away.
Without the radio, she could not call for help or get radar guidance. Fuel would also be a problem now. She would have to adopt a large circular path when visibility improved so she could see land and identify where she was. Even with a good safe margin of 100Km more fuel than the journey required, it was not going to be enough.
“Do either of you have a phone with GPS on it?” she called out.
“I do.” replied Max and switched it on, passing it to her as it booted up.
First, Kate tried to make a phone call. The screening of the metal cabin and distance from cell towers prevented connection. The GPS signal was unavailable for the same reason. Certainly the satellite signal from above would not get through. She handed the phone back.
Moments later, another strike blasted away Kate’s side window and fried her where she sat. Her left arm was burnt clean away, with the left side of her face seared to the bone. Small flames licked momentarily, at the edges of the flesh and consumed more of her hair, until extinguished by the wind. The shock caused her to jolt up and back in her seat, throwing the stricken aircraft out of control.
Star was riveted to the spot in terror, as the flash had also singed her hair. It took several seconds for Max to realize the plane was spinning, twisting and now diving. It could only end one way, a crash into the sea.
He released his seat belt and was thrown around, mercilessly, but clawed his way over the seat back into the empty co-pilot seat. Fortunately, these aircraft had dual controls. He seized the control column and slid his feet to the rudder pedals, stabilizing their movement and regaining control. He eased back the control column to pull out of the dive and focused his eyes ahead.
The sea was rushing up to meet him, just seconds away. Instinctively, he yanked the stick back, hard. The plane responded, flaring over the waves and started a vertical climb. It immediately stalled, the tail dragged over the water and the plane belly flopped onto the sea. The moment the fixed wheels and struts under the plane touched the water, the plane was dragged and tipped nose down, below the sea.
Water gushed into the cabin as the push-fit plastic windows collapsed and fell in under the pressure. It could have been no more than 10 seconds before the cabin had filled completely. The plane was standing on its nose, in shallow water, bumping and dragging the seabed, as it bobbed with the waves.
Neither Max nor Star had taken a breath as they plunged. They were suffocating and trying desperately to get out of the wreck, to swim to the surface.
The water in the plane was a blizzard of bubbles and swirling objects, visibility was nil, although the daylight through the window openings was something to aim for.
Max pushed away from the controls and over the seat towards Star. Her arms were flailing around as she tried to break free of the fastened seat belt. Max realized what was happening. He released her and pushed her out of the nearest window.
He was craving air now and slipped like a fish through the opening, after her. He grabbed her under the arms and pushed her upwards, kicking with all his might. The 5 meters up to the surface seemed like a million miles.
The drag from their clothes and panic for air made the ordeal so much worse. They finally broke the surface and backstroked to keep their faces clear of the water, gasping and coughing for several minutes, as they began to calm down.
Max peered through the gloom and could see they were very close to the shore of an island. It was either a small one, or they were at the end of a long one. Either way, they were not going to drown.
They swam lazily towards the shore, relieved to be alive in the warm water. The thought of sharks struck them both at the same moment, imagining the massive jaws snapping at their thrashing feet. Now they swam like their lives depended on it.
The beach was rocky, but with small black sandy patches leading from sea to land. They flopped down, exhausted, on the dry sand and considered their good fortune - still alive, uninjured and no sharks. Max checked his watch and noted it was mid-afternoon, so the plane would not be overdue for several hours, although the loss of communication would put the airport on alert.
“Max, I hope this island is inhabited by friendly people, I could do with something to eat.”
“Me too, it will be a while before we are rescued. I’m worried that we are going to be in the news. It is the very last thing we need right now.
“As soon as you are able, I think we should climb up to high ground and see where we are. Perhaps we will see signs of habitation and, maybe, speed up rescue. One good thing, the tail of the plane is still sticking out of the water. It will help to show where we ended up.”
The sky was clearing now and a strong breeze started to blow. As they climbed, the sweltering sun broke through the cloud and soon dried their clothes.
The climb was not difficult. The lava flow that had formed this island had weathered over thousands of years, providing jagged hand and foot holds to the 60 degree slope. From the top, they could see it was a very small island, perhaps only 1Km long and half that, wide. There were large trees and areas of dense jungle over the domed top, split up with many large grass clearings. Briefly, Max wondered about the clearings and what had prevented the jungle growing there? He moved on with his thoughts as there were more pressing matters. The island was uninhabited and apart from the noise of the wind in the trees, there was no sound of life. Not even insects.
Actually, he thought he could hear something now. It came and went with the gusts of wind, very faint, but not a natural sound.
“Star, do you hear the sound of a boat engine? The wind is blowing the sound towards us.”
“Yes, now you mention it. Maybe someone saw the plane come down and is heading towards it.”
Max doubted that, because the island was deserted, and the rescue team had not even been alerted yet. He did not want to dampen Star’s spirits, so just nodded agreement.
They set off at a brisk pace, pushing their way through the relatively thin, tall foliage, towards the sound. They stopped frequently to listen, tracking its course from the side of the island, whilst moving towards the plane.
“Someone must have seen the plane and they are heading towards it. If they didn’t, they soon will.” Max agreed, as they headed to a high point over the beach where they washed up.
Crouching down on the cliff edge, they watched, trying to decide if it was safe to call for help. The people in the boat were looking away from shore so would not have seen or heard them, even if they had tried to attract attention. The engine of the powerful workboat slowed to a tick-over as it reached the plane. Moments later, one of the rubber suited men with breathing apparatus, dived in to investigate.
Several minutes passed and he surfaced, reporting that the pilot was dead and there were no signs of anyone else being on board. The diver explained to his colleague, “The damned plane is resting with its nose on the seabed. A life raft has inflated in the tail and that’s what is keeping it up. If we sink the plane here in shallow water, it will be seen from the air. We should drag the plane out and sink it in deep water.”
The other man nodded agreement and pulled coils of rope from a locker. He joined several lengths together, and the diver swam down, tying one end to the nose wheel.
The diver soon returned, having attached the rope, and climbed aboard. The boat eased away, and gently pulled the nose of the plane up and forward.
The resistance of water on the submerged wings dragged the plane right under, but eventually, the wings surfaced. The workboat opened up its throttle and slowly hauled its load in an arc, pointing out to sea. After an hour, it was a dot on the horizon and two hours later the boat returned at high speed, without the plane.
“They have ditched the plane out to sea, in deep water,” explained Max. It was obvious to Star, that’s what they had done, so these were dangerous men, in hiding like them.
They raced through the vegetation towards the side of the island where the boat was heading. They had to see where it was going and perhaps learn more about the men. Perhaps they could steal the boat and use it to get to safety.