Sea of Greed

“That was shocking,” she said, grinning and suspending the wires separately where they wouldn’t touch the floor, the wall or each other.

Joe laughed. It was dark on the lower deck now, with only the emergency lighting coming on. “I think we tripped a breaker. That could be good or bad. Let’s not wait around to find out.”

He crouched down next to her. “Climb on. This is no time to be shy.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up. Standing, Joe grabbed her legs, held them tight and ducked out into the main section of the fuselage.

He moved toward the ladder, finding Priya easy to carry. Her arms were strong and she held on to Joe’s neck and shoulders without any problem, even as he descended a ladder to the lowest deck on the aircraft.

“So far, so good,” he said. “Now to get the aft door open.”

Weaving around a Ferrari and Mercedes SUV, Joe accidentally bumped Priya’s head on an overhanging section of the fuselage.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” Joe replied. “Took that turn a little wide. Been some time since I had anyone traveling piggyback.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “Don’t slow down. I want to get out of here.”

Making their way to the tail, Joe bypassed the tarp-covered cars and stopped beside a fiberglass powerboat. It sat on a pallet connected to a conveyor belt system that allowed Tessa and her crew to move the vehicles and cargo around. Reaching down, he flicked a switch, brought the battery online and checked the fuel supply. “Three-quarters of a tank. That should get us away from here.”

“What about the submersible?” Priya said. “They can’t chase us if we’re underwater.”

The sub was up in its cradle. Joe shook his head. “The crane will be slow and noisy. We need to lower that door and use this conveyor belt to get ourselves out of here ASAP.”

He gently lowered Priya into the boat and then moved to the controls. The setup was standard, although Joe noticed the writing on the pressure dials had been done in Cyrillic. Apparently, Tessa had built her plane from Russian parts.

He pressed a button to power up the system, turned the handle to unlock the door and waited for the light on the panel to go green. As soon as it did, he moved the door handle from up to down.

The hydraulic pumps kicked in and a crack of light appeared around the edge of the ramp.

As the ramp dropped, wind began whistling over the top, bringing a swirl of dust and an odd scent with it.

“Something’s not right,” Joe said.

The ramp was only a quarter of the way down when the power was cut from somewhere else in the plane.

“They’re onto us,” Priya said.

“No problem,” Joe said. “I have a contingency for that.”

He pulled the emergency release handle. The hydraulic pressure vanished and the ramp — which weighed several thousand pounds — fell hard and locked itself into a full-open position. Instead of a large splash, it hit with nothing but a solid thud, which raised an additional cloud of dust.

Joe stared out the back. He’d assumed they were on water. The Monarch was designed to operate on water, but all he could see behind them were acres of bone-white desert and a cloud of swirling dust.

51

“NOW I KNOW how Kurt feels,” Joe said.

Out beyond the tail of the Monarch, swirling winds were lifting the bleached and dried soil and whipping it through the air, cutting the visibility to a few hundred feet. There wasn’t a drop of water in sight, but even if the ocean lay beyond what Joe could see, there was no possible way to get a boat to it.

“Tell me you have a contingency plan for your contingency plan,” Priya said.

“Of course,” Joe said. “Who wouldn’t?”

She gave him a look that suggested she’d like to hear it and quickly.

“If we can’t float, we’ll have to drive,” he said.

He picked her up once again, carried her back toward the boxy Mercedes G 63 and put her down.

“This should be at home in whatever desert this happens to be,” he said.

Before he could open the door, the sound of boots pounding on the deck came rushing toward them.

“Get down,” Joe said.

Priya rolled under the Mercedes as Joe took cover by the cargo controls.

Two men raced by them without a glance, headed for the open ramp. Joe noticed they were running on the conveyor belt. He glanced at the controls. It still had power. He tapped the control for the aft belt, activated it and pushed the dial to full speed.

The belt engaged instantly and the men were thrown off balance, stumbled and landed on their hands and knees.

Joe stopped the belt, then turned it full speed in the other direction. This time, conveying the men forward, onto the ramp and into the dust bowl beyond.

Joe turned back toward the Mercedes and froze.

“Mighty clever of you,” the big man named Woods said. He stood there with a pistol in his hand. “These are only rubber pellets, son. But I promise you, they’ll dig into your skin something fierce.”

Tessa had equipped her guards with something that wouldn’t punch gaping holes in the one-of-a-kind aircraft. TSA agents carried similar cartridges.