Chapter 4: The Storm of the Century
Mark was thrown into a holding cell. He had one phone call. He didn't call a lawyer; he called Sarah.
“Look in my locker,” he whispered urgently. “The false bottom. My dad’s logs are there, along with the photos of Sterling’s men tampering with the hydraulics. Get them to Evelyn. Now.”
Hours later, the precinct doors burst open. Evelyn walked in, flanked by high-priced attorneys. She looked at Mark through the bars, her face unreadable. “You broke into my hangar.”
“To protect your fleet,” Mark said, standing up, his wrists bruised. “Sterling rigged the backup plane. He’s trying to stop you from reaching the board meeting in New York today.”
Evelyn’s stoic facade cracked. “A Category 4 hurricane is hitting the coast. All commercial flights are grounded. My main jet is impounded by the FAA. If I don't make it to New York by 5 PM, Sterling takes the company, fires thousands of people, and sells the assets for scraps.”
The guards unlocked Mark’s cell. Evelyn had dropped the charges. Mark looked out the precinct window at the violently churning black sky.
“There is one plane the FAA didn't impound,” Mark said, his eyes locking with Evelyn’s. “The old twin-engine prop plane. The one my dad rebuilt from scratch.”
May you like
“It’s suicide to fly that in a hurricane,” Evelyn said, her voice tight.
“Not if I fly it,” Mark replied, his voice devoid of arrogance, replaced entirely by quiet resolve. “My dad built that plane. I know its soul. You trusted him with your life once. Trust me with it now.”
