Contact by Susan Grant Page B

from the Earth craft. The sound was muffled, almost below his hearing. “They’re closing the porthole coverings.”
    Trist made a sound of annoyance. “Now we can’t see inside the craft.”
    “No matter. We can still talk”—he started walking toward the Earth craft—“in person.”
    “How?”
    “By knocking on their front door. A smile and a gentle tone will work wonders, you’ll see.”
    “Oh, my God! They’re
coming
!”
    Ann’s shout drove a spear of pure terror into Jordan’s soul. She kept control somehow, saying calmly, “Which door?”
    “One-left.”
    Jordan cut short the security inspection she’d been performingand headed to the door, where the Marines stood guard. Dillon-the-Irishman still hadn’t turned the AED into a weapon, but he promised her he was getting close. Either way, it was too late. The aircraft was as impenetrable as they could make it with limited materials and time.
    Her stomach felt wobbly and her head hurt. She tried to work moisture into her mouth as she gripped the Taser in her sweaty hand. Outside the small, scratched window in the door, she saw the tall man pushing a portable stand toward the plane. Behind him walked the albino woman and the four guards.
    With a clang, the stand settled against the side of the fuselage. Down below, the woman made hand signals. She wanted the door opened. Jordan frowned. “In your dreams, lady,” she muttered.
    Clearly thwarted, the woman exchanged glances with the man. He tapped what looked like a touch screen on the ladder—pretty hi-tech for a loading platform—and the stand ascended. The guards remained on the ground level, watching the plane.
    Jordan turned to Ann. “Throw the switch.”
    Ann smiled. “With pleasure, Captain.”
    With a grunt, Ann yanked on the door handle, cracking the door ajar. The movement deployed the emergency escape slide, as advertised. An explosive screeching hiss pinched Jordan’s eardrums as the life raft inflated instantly and formed a slide. Rock hard, it plowed into the ladder-platform, throwing it across the floor and scattering their would-be boarders like toy action figures.
    “Woo hoo!” Ann yelled.
    “You got that right.” Quickly, Jordan helped the flight attendant detach the slide-raft from the door. The discarded slide fell heavily to the floor as they pulled the door closed.
    Ben shouted over the megaphone: “Flight Fifty-eight—one.Hijackers—zero!” The passengers cheered, and the flight attendants gave each other high fives.
    Ann was breathless, her eyes bright with triumph and adrenaline. Jordan suspected she herself looked the same way. “We can move slides from the other doors if we need to, Captain. I don’t think they’re going to try this one for a while.”
    Jordan peeked outside. “I agree. They don’t look very good.” Three guards were kneeling over a fourth lying motionless on the floor as the tall, brown-haired man and the albino woman wobbled to their feet. Blood flowed from the pale-haired woman’s nose. She tried to stanch it with her bare hands. Her partner showed no outward signs of injury, but judging by his contorted mouth and surly expression, he was furious. And he turned his attention to Jordan.
    Hard and obsidian-black, his eyes remained focused on her for longer than was comfortable, a formidable, discerning stare. But Jordan scowled back at him.
He
was the evil-doer.
He
was the one who stood between her and getting home. No way would she feel sorry for the guy.
    The man turned to assist his wounded partner, and the guards lifted their comrade to his feet. As a group, they limped out of sight. “Good. They’re leaving,” Jordan said.
    Natalie and Ben had joined her. “I doubt they’ll try the door again,” Ben said.
    “If they wanted to, they could try the other doors, one at a time,” Jordan pointed out. “And if they force us to blow all the slides, we’ll have none.”
    Natalie shrugged. “We’ll have to stay one step ahead.