Flight 12 to Rome: A Nick Bracco Novella by Gary Ponzo Read Free Book Online Page B

I’ll handle the flow of information and send it your way once we’ve filtered through it. Make sense?”
    Sam wanted to say, “No, it doesn’t make sense. When it comes to aviation, I’m the expert.” But instead, he said, “Sure, but don’t you want an aviator involved in the process? I could be over there in thirty minutes and work with—”
    “No,” Walt’s voice rising now. “You stay in your office with your support staff and work out the scenarios for us as we send them your way. Are you going to be okay with this?”
    Walt Jackson had seniority and the terrorism division had jurisdiction in virtually every case. But Walt had the decency to ask Sam if he was okay with it, allowing Sam to be part of the plan and not an obstacle.
    “Sure,” Sam said, his right hand sitting uselessly on the desk. “I’ll support you however I can.”
    “I appreciate it,” Walt said. Then there was a period of silence where Sam wasn’t sure if Walt had hung up already. After twenty seconds, Sam said, “Walt?”
    “Listen,” Walt said thoughtfully. “If anything happens, I don’t want your head on the plate. I’ll take the hit.”
    Another solid point. When he relinquished the responsibility to Walt, he also gave up the ability to be a scapegoat. Sam couldn’t tell if Walt was being genuine, or using this as a tool to speed up the transition.
    “Of course,” Sam said. “I understand.”
    “Besides,” Walt said with a low tenor to his voice, almost cracking. “I’m the one who has to call Julie if Nick doesn’t make it.”
    Sam lowered his head, almost ashamed of his politicking. This was more personal to Walt than professional.
    “Of course,” Sam said, fully on board now. “I’m here whenever you need me.”
    Whether Walt didn’t have the voice to finish or he just needed to move on, the phone disconnected. Sam sat there staring at the lone button on his phone, still blinking.
    He pressed the button and said, “Kurtze?”
    “I’m here, sir.”
    “Go ahead and keep cooperating with the FAA. They’ll know what they need from you.”
    “So you don’t want—”
    “No, this has been reassigned.”
    “What does that mean exactly?”
    “It means we have a real issue on our hands and the specialists have taken over.”
    Kurtze hung up with a questioning sign off, but Sam finally understood what Walt Jackson had offered him. And as he looked out his window into the darkness, there was the slightest bit of relief on his mind.

Chapter 9
    “It’s not so much fun when you don’t have those gadgets with you, huh, Agent Bracco?” Bennett said from his front-row seat.
    Nick was up against the cockpit door, leaning on it like his presence alone might cause it to open. He squinted at Bennett. “Exactly what gadgets are you talking about?”
    “I read lots of magazines,” Bennett said. “You and your partner Matt McColm have used a variety of devices to get out of sticky situations. But you don’t have your partner or the gadgets with you this time. Quite a disadvantage.”
    “When I come visit you in prison, you’re going to have to show me which articles you’re reading, because I can promise you, they’re full of hyperbole.”
    “Sure,” Bennett said in a mocking voice. “Except we’re less than ten minutes from touchdown and you haven’t improved your situation one little bit.”
    Nick handed his pistol to Kyle Church and said, “Get Weston up here.”
    Kyle gave him a peculiar look, then took the gun and went toward the main cabin.
    Nick grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall, slammed it against the cockpit door and screamed, “Open this damn door!”
    Nothing. The plane seemed to dip in the sky, and Nick’s legs were giving out with each yard the plane dropped. He was sleep deprived, frustrated, and losing hope. Finally he resigned himself to a last resort. He went over to Jess, who was writing frantically in her notebook without ever looking up. As he approached, he heard a