Chaos (Book 4) (The Omega Group) (13 page)

What the hell is going on?

 Orano felt sure they’d been preparing to take off a moment
ago. The low rumbling of the jet’s engines revved up to high whine, and the
sensation of acceleration had been unmistakable. Yet they’d come to a sudden
stop. The angry rants of his Nigerian captors gave him an explanation.

“Damn Americans!” the young one bellowed like a child. “They
think money gives them the right to do whatever they please. Are they blind?
Could they not see us on the runway? They almost landed right on top of us.”

“Calm yourself,” the mentor instructed. “Our pilot says it
will be only a few more minutes, and we will be reassigned to another runway.
Take a seat and focus on your prayers.”

Orano waited for another outburst, but none came.
Apparently, the student knew when to shut up. The silence somehow made the
casket feel smaller, and Orano struggled to stay calm. He’d never been even the
slightest bit claustrophobic, but his inability to move any part of his body
made the dark, confined space unbearable.

Maybe they’ll forget to open the lid and I won’t have to
endure the long flight in here.
 

The thought began as humorous, but Orano couldn’t escape the
notion that he truly would be better off dying of asphyxiation. He could easily
become acclimated to his snug prison, but the ritual they had planned for his
arrival in Nigeria would be horrific.

The air inside the coffin already felt heavy with exhaled
carbon dioxide and, without realizing it, Orano began taking shallow breaths to
conserve the limited oxygen. His subconscious, it appeared, had no intention of
giving up so easily.

********

Han scrambled onto the diplomatic jet’s port side wing after
receiving a boost from Myrick. The body of the Boeing 737 shielded him from the
tower as well as the terminal, giving him much-needed privacy. They had only
moments before emergency crews would descend on the runway, so their makeshift
plan of attack centered on getting him aboard as fast as possible. That meant
using powers normal people didn’t know—couldn’t know—existed.

Although the roar of the jet’s idling engines made it
impossible to hear, Han knew the rest of his team were standing on the runway
in front of the cockpit, screaming at the pilot for disrupting their landing.
They hoped to cause enough of a commotion to draw the attention of anyone who
might be inside.

Crossing his fingers that they’d succeeded, Han poked his
head and shoulders through the fuselage. Being able to change his molecular
structure to allow him to pass through solid objects often came in handy,
especially when he needed to gain entry without the benefit of a door.

Two men huddled outside the cockpit, their backs turned. One
wore a dark suit while the other jeans and a T-shirt. They blocked most of his
view past them, but a crisp white captain’s uniform was visible moving around
the small space. The rest of the cabin appeared empty, with the exception of a rather
expensive-looking coffin lying across the aisle in front of the door. Han
couldn’t help but think about the old children’s game:
One of these things
does not belong here.

It occurred to him that Julian could have very well made a
mistake. This flight could be exactly what it purported to be, and that coffin
might very well hold a recently deceased consulate employee. In which case, his
planned actions would be way more awkward.

Pulling the rest of his body inside the aircraft, he said a
silent prayer that Julian’s genius held true and moved silently toward the
casket. He’d need to release Orano first, even up the odds a bit, then take his
kidnappers into custody. He had surprise and stealth on his side, which would
be enough to get him a seriously pissed off energy-ball-thrower on his side,
too.

“Hey! Who are you?” The shocked voice came from the tail end.

Han whirled around to find an older man in jeans exiting the
small bathroom. It took less than a breath for Han to realize his mistake. One
of the men at the cockpit had been a flight attendant, not the second
kidnapper.

Han assumed the posture of the truly indignant—shoulders
back, chin high, face in a pure scowl—and began yelling in Mandarin. He pulled
out his cell phone and held it up for them to see, as though everything should
make sense. When he received nothing but confused looks in return, he showed
his disgust at their lack of understanding by spitting on the floor at his
feet. He typed furiously on his screen as he stormed up the aisle, took a seat
a few rows from the front, and then casually fastened his seatbelt.

 It took all of his willpower to not burst out laughing at
their incredulous expressions. Although he couldn’t see the man still behind him,
the shoulder shrugs of the ones in front told Han that they were as perplexed
as he’d hoped they’d be.

A gentle hand was laid on his shoulder. “Sir, you are on the
wrong aircraft. You really must—”

A gust of wind blew past Han as the bathroom guy took
flight. His body lifted off the floor and slammed into the opposite wall before
crashing awkwardly onto the seat backs. His eyes, wide with shock, quickly
became empty as he lost consciousness.

“Welcome to the party,” Han called over his shoulder as he
ran through the seats in front of him.

“Thanks for the invite,” Mirissa called back, blasting the
two other men with her telekinesis. “Though, next time text me a less blurry
picture. I almost materialized inside of a drink cart.”

The pilot stepped out of the cockpit with his hands raised
high above his head. “I just fly the plane. I know nothing of your fight with
these men.”

“Sit,” Han ordered, then pulled a handful of zip ties from
his pocket. Once he’d secured the captain and the two men up front, he handed a
tie to Mirissa.

“I’ll get Orano. You get that one.” Han pointed to the
bathroom guy still sprawled along the chairs, then grabbed the lid of the
casket and pulled. When it didn’t open, he tried again, this time using both
hands. Still, it wouldn’t lift.
What the hell?

“Let me help.” Mirissa crouched at his side. “On three. One,
two, three.”

Even with both of them straining, the lid remained sealed.
Han inspected its edges, looking for a lock of some sort but found none. There
didn’t appear to be anything holding it closed.

“Orano, can you hear me?” he yelled.

The answer came, albeit slowly. “Yes.”

“We’re trying to get you out, but we can’t open the lid. Do
you know how to unlock it?”

Another stretch of silence. “No.”

Han sent Mirissa a worried glance. “Are you okay in there?”
he asked.

“Need … air.”

Han shot to his feet and stepped back. “Brace yourself.
We’re going to smash through.”

Mirissa waited for a beat to give Orano a chance to comply,
then threw both of her hands forward, letting loose on the casket. Although it
slammed up against the bulkhead, it remained in one piece.

“Try again,” Han said.

This time, Mirissa hit the coffin so hard with her powers
that chunks of wood exploded into the air, along with pieces of the surrounding
aircraft. Victory, however, remained out of reach. Although she’d shattered the
wood, the box it concealed remained intact.

“Lead? Really?” Han grabbed his phone and called Myrine.

“Do you have him?” Myrine asked without preamble.

“Not yet. He’s in a lead box. We can’t find the lock and we
can’t open it, and he’s running out of air. I need you guys in here.”

“No!” Myrine whisper-yelled in a way only mothers could.
“The only thing keeping the officials that have gathered around us out of that
aircraft is its diplomatic status. If you open the door, and they see anything
suspicious—like two extra passengers that weren’t on board earlier—we’re done.”

“Then how the hell do we get him out of the box? And off the
airplane?”

“Get Julian on it. If anyone can figure it out it’s him. As
for getting out of here afterward, I’m working on it.” She paused a moment
before continuing. “Save his life, Han.”

“Will do.” Han disconnected and immediately called Julian,
putting the phone on speaker. He described their situation as best he could and,
at the computer genius’s request, took pictures of every inch of the seal
around the coffin’s lid and texted them to him.

“Give me minute,” Julian said as he tapped on his keyboard.

“We only have a minute, Julian,” Han replied.

“Okay. There doesn’t appear to be any locking mechanism
visible ….”

“Yeah, we already know that,” Han said.

“Stop interrupting me. I’m trying to think.”

Han gritted his teeth. He knew Julian didn’t intend to talk
to people as though they were third graders, but that didn’t stop it from
annoying him when the genius did it.

“It has to be a maglock,” Julian exclaimed as though having
a eureka moment. “Two seriously heavy-duty magnets holding it shut.”

“So, how do we open it?”

“You won’t be able to pry it open. Those things can hold with
up to two thousand pounds of pressure. There’s got to be a remote that turns it
off.”

Both Han and Mirissa glared at the pilot still secured in
his seat.

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes wide and brows raised. “I
swear! I thought a dead body was in there.”

Han began searching through the pockets of the older man
who’d been hanging out by the cockpit. The guy’s eyes were closed, but he
certainly wasn’t sleeping. Han couldn’t make out the language—Latin maybe—but
he chanted something over and over again.

“Where’s the remote?” Han demanded.

No response. The man simply chanted louder. When Han pulled
him up by the shoulders and yelled the same question, the man once again
ignored him. His increase in chant volume the only proof that he’d even heard.

“My guy’s got nothing on him, either,” Mirissa called from
where the bathroom guy still lay unconscious. “But at least mine’s not
chanting.”

“What’s our other option, Julian?” Han asked.

“You’ll need to cut its power. Hopefully, it’ll unlock then,”
Julian said.

“Hopefully?” Mirissa asked.

“Well, if it’s in fail-safe mode, it’ll disengage as soon as
the power’s cut. If it’s in fail-secure mode, it’ll stay locked up tight and
you’ll never get it open.”

“Jesus,” Han whispered.

“Hey. If they wanted him dead, they would have killed him
already,” Mirissa said. “They kept him alive for a reason, which means they
wouldn’t risk a faulty battery screwing that up.”

Julian continued, “You just need to find the battery and
disconnect it. Although, if your pictures are accurate, my guess would be that
the power source is on the inside.”

Han smiled as hope blossomed. “Now
that
I can
handle.” He knelt next to the casket. “I hope you’re decent in there, big guy,
’cause I’m coming through.”

Han pushed his face through the top of the box until he
could see Orano. “Hi. Don’t mind me. I’m just going to be looking around for a
battery. Just pretend I’m not here.”

He’d only modified the molecules in his head and neck, so
the rest of his body stayed solid. He used his hands and knees to maneuver around
the perimeter of the space, checking for a wire. He found the locking mechanism
easily, but the battery and wires must have been secured within the casket
walls. He could see no sign of the power source.

“Okay. I’m going to see if Julian has any ideas for me. I’ll
be back in a second. Hang in there.” Before Han pulled his head out of the
casket, a mumbled response from Orano stopped him. “What did you say?”

“I said, shut up. You’re taking all of my air.”

Han smiled at his friend’s acerbic tone but thought better
of spouting a snappy comeback. The guy didn’t need him sucking up any more
oxygen than necessary, and Han didn’t need to waste any more time. Once he’d
pulled himself out of the casket, he updated Julian.

“I can talk you through making an electromagnetic pulse,”
Julian said. “You just need to get a disposable camera, some copper wire, and a
light switch. Oh, and a soldering iron. It’s actually super easy to do.”

“I’m sure it is, but we don’t have time to send someone to a
hardware store to get all of that stuff. We need an immediate solution, Julian.
He’s running out of time.” Han paced the small aisle waiting for a miracle,
trying to ignore the incessant chanting now coming from both of the kidnappers.

“What if I could slide something between the magnets?”
Mirissa asked.

“Well, yeah. That would decrease the hold exponentially, but
if you can’t separate them, how are you planning to accomplish that?” For the
first time since their conversation began, Julian stopped typing and simply
listened.

“Every time I teleport, there’s a chance that I could
materialize inside a solid object,” Mirissa began. “That’s why I can’t jump to
anywhere that I haven't seen before either in person or in a picture. Even then
it’s always a risk. But what if, just this once, I do that intentionally? Not
my whole body, just my hand.”

“Oh, hell no!” Han protested. “We’ll find another way.”

“Listen. I’ve actually thought this out. I’ll only keep it
there long enough for you to lift the lid and slide something heavy under it to
prop it open. With my enhanced healing abilities, my hand will recover in no
time.”

Julian became the voice of reason next. “It won’t work. When
your hand materializes, there will only be a thin layer of tissue separating
the magnets. It’ll have no effect at all. You’d need a sheet of non-magnetic
metal to interrupt the magnetic force.”

“I might be able to do that.” Mirissa beamed. “When I
teleport, my clothes and whatever I have on me come along for the ride. I can
just tape the metal to my hand, and it’ll materialize at the same time I do.
What kind of metal do I need, Julian?”