Flight 12 to Rome: A Nick Bracco Novella by Gary Ponzo

shriek from the main cabin. Then he could feel the plane bounce from a sudden thump of the floor. When he finally found the source of the commotion, it made his stomach drop down to his knees.
    Moving up the aisle was Kyle Church followed by one of the goons who had Kirk Weston in a stranglehold. The air marshal’s right arm was completely bent behind his back, being pulled up by the terrorist. On his face was pain and irritation.
    Behind them was Cory waving Nick’s gun like a prize he’d won at the county fair.
    “Aw, Kyle,” Nick said. “Don’t tell me.”
    “Sorry, Nick,” Kyle said pointing the pistol out in front of him. “They offered to give me the name of who murdered Kristin, plus a lot of money.” He shrugged, as if he had no other choice but to defect.
    For the first time since he’d boarded the plane, Nick actually believed it just might be over. He shook his head. “Kyle,” he murmured, “so all that stuff about Clayton was bullshit?”
    Kyle grinned at his storytelling ability.
    Bennett now stood up and squeezed the creases of his slacks as if that were his biggest annoyance of the flight. “Sit down,” he ordered Nick.
    Nick returned to his seat where Bennett just vacated. He looked over at Jess across the aisle, scribbling away. “I hope you’re enjoying this,” he said.
    Jess looked up at him. “What? I’m doing my job.”
    Nick tried to control his breathing, but as the plane drifted lower and lower, so did his hopes of surviving. His mind raced with ideas, but he needed to save the people on board. Nervous smiles were replaced by sobs and passengers wiping their eyes.
    Nick wanted to tell Jess something, but Kyle stood guard over him while Bennett paced in front of first class, looking around at the collection of terrorists he’d assembled. They’d resumed their search for the elusive device, but it was becoming uncertain whether it would be found.
    Bennett crossed his arms with a disgusted expression and said to Nick, “You do understand I’m doing this for the world?”
    Nick’s stomach churned with anxiety. “Are you trying to justify your actions?”
    Bennett strolled back and forth with the straight-backed posture of a professor. “Not at all. I just want you to appreciate my motives.” This time he looked over at Jess who was absorbing his propaganda like a prized student.
    Nick was ready to strike, not caring of the consequences. Cory cocked his head almost daring Nick to move.
    The sun was beginning to brighten the windows and Nick was able to see the Atlantic. They were very low now.
    The doors to the landing gear opened as they screeched their approach to the uncharted island. Bennett sensed the urgency of his plight and grabbed the PA microphone.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a professional tone, “so far we have not found the device we so dearly need to protect our families back home. In an effort to expedite the process, I will begin to have one passenger killed every sixty seconds until the person with the device comes forward.”
    Now the entire plane was filled with shouts as parents huddled their children and husbands grabbed their loved one’s hands.
    “We shall start with you,” Bennett said, pointing to the pilot who’d assisted Nick earlier.
    The pilot instinctively leaned back, as if he could delay his death by an extra millisecond. His face tightened with terror as Cory approached with his gun outstretched.
    “Now,” Bennett said into the PA system, “I will count to three and if the person with the device doesn’t come forward, I will have to kill this fine gentleman. His death will be on your conscience.”
    A crescendo of screams and crying filled the aircraft.
    “One,” Bennett said, “two . . .”
    Cory had a mischievous smile as he held out the gun, ready to fire.
    “Stop!” Nick shouted. “I know where the device is.”
    Bennett held up his hand to temporarily delay the execution.
    “Let’s have it, Agent Bracco,”