Waterkill (Dave Henson Series) Read Online Free Page A

man seemed to pay constant attention to the silver metal briefcase. At least one hand was always holding on to it tightly. Nevertheless, so far the guy had not been a pain in the neck customer, and he had no interest in knowing the man’s business or becoming friends with him. He simply wanted to make a good day’s wage. And this guy had offered him three times his standard charter rate to fly him to Fairbanks on short notice. He couldn’t pass it up he swore to himself as he fought with the flight controls.
    As they continued to fly towards the airfield, the pilot noticed the man was fidgeting more nervously with his metal briefcase.  Incredulously, he seemed to be distracted and un-phased by their current plight, thought the pilot. As if there was something more important to be concerned about other than his own life. Which at the moment was hanging in the balance.
    “We’re diverting to an airfield about ten miles from here to allow time for this storm to blow over,” said the pilot to his customer, as he continued to keep the plane’s wings level and descend toward the mountains and in the direction of the airfield.
    The passenger abruptly looked over at him and snapped in a direct and commanding tone, “No, you will continue on to Fairbanks. I need to be there today.”
    The pilot looked over at his passenger in surprise. “Buddy, I’m doing all I can to keep this aircraft in the air and if I do not land it soon we will never make it to Fairbanks, or anywhere else for that matter, except for the mountains below.”
    As the pilot spoke the man slid his hand inside his suit and pulled out a Beretta M9 handgun and pointed it directly at the pilot’s face. “Sir, you will continue to fly this plane to Fairbanks, Alaska.”
    The pilot stared back at the Middle Eastern man in shock, but kept his composure as he continued fighting the aircraft controls. “Buddy, if you look out your side window you will see that there is ice building up on the leading edge of the wing.”
    The passenger glanced quickly out the window, while he continued to point the Beretta at the pilot.
    “Do you see the thick glaze of ice on the wing?” asked the pilot. “Do you see the actual one inch long icicles hanging down from it?”
    The passenger looked back at the pilot and pointed his gun closer to the pilot’s face. “We will make it,” rasped the man. “You will continue to fly this plane to Fairbanks.”
    The pilot looked incredulously at the man. Not so much for the fact that he was pointing a gun in his face, but more for how this quiet and unassuming man that he had met just hours earlier was now commandeering his plane.
    “Sir, if I do not land this plane very soon we will stall and fall out of the sky as sure as you are holding that gun to my face.”
    Suddenly, the aircraft’s left wing dropped causing the plane to rotate counterclockwise ninety degrees along its longitudinal axis. The passenger violently slammed into the pilot. As he did, the pointed gun barrel stabbed into the pilot’s cheek, ripping the soft flesh. Fighting through the shock and pain, the pilot reacted instantly to the stalled aircraft. He applied hard right rudder, pushed the aircraft’s nose forward and twisted the yoke in an attempt to level the aircraft’s wings. However, blood spurting from the deep gash in his cheek impeded his ability to level the aircraft. The plane continued to fall from the sky.
    Though he was pushing the right rudder pedal with all his strength to stop the spin and level the wings, the ice buildup on the aircraft was so thick that he was having no success. At the same time, blood gushing from his cheek wound was hampering his ability to see out of his right eye. He glanced at the vertical speed indicator and saw that they were losing altitude at over a thousand feet per minute. He then looked at his altimeter and quickly calculated they would come in contact with the mountainous terrain below in less than a minute at