though you stepped onto that ride of your own free will? I breathed through the fear; I embraced it. Instead of pain and panic and fear, I visualized the headlines and the summit meetings. I imagined the conversations that would be held around the world—conversations that would begin even as people lay in the rubble, their rosettes torn and tattered. Those people would change the world for future generations. They would be heroes.
The thought was inspiring. I allowed myself to focus more clearly on what needed to happen for my goal to be achieved. I thought of the “death dive” that would send us toward our target. I thought of the twisted metal, the shattered glass, the iconic sails of the Opera House turned to dust. The broken limbs, the staring eyes, the stillness. They took life from Earth, and Earth would take life back.
The symmetry was rather beautiful, don’t you think?
FORTY-ONE
2 HOURS 30 MINUTES FROM SYDNEY | MINA
When Missouri finishes speaking and the PA goes silent, there’s a beat like an indrawn breath. Then somebody screams.
The first scream triggers a second and a third, and now the plane shakes with the panic of 353 passengers faced with the certainty of death. Next to me, a man draws himself into a ball in his seat, his voice a high-pitched wail of fear. I turn around, see Cesca’s horrified face. Rowan slumps against the seats, one hand gripping Derek’s arm as the older man tries to shake him off.
Alice is tugging at the seat belt of a woman in an aisle seat, wild with desperation. “Get out! Get out!”
The woman grips her seat belt clasp, fending off Alice with wild swipes of her hand.
“My newspaper paid six thousand pounds for a seat!”
The woman’s elbow finds its target, and Alice reels back, blood pouring from her nose. Cesca pulls Alice away, and I move to help, but she collapses against Cesca.
“I paid for a seat,” she sobs.
“Everyone did.” Cesca lets go of Alice, who falls onto the floor of the aisle, clutching the base of the seat as though her fingertips alone will stop her from being flung from the plane.
There is nothing we can do.
Had we been faced with a controlled landing in water or on unsuitable ground, I could have handled it. This is our bread and butter after all, even if we hope never to face it. Life jackets, emergency exits, slides… I could do it with my eyes shut.
But when Missouri flies us into the Sydney Opera House, there will be nothing I can do to protect the passengers on this flight from the impact of a 350-ton Boeing 777 hitting Australia’s most celebrated building.
The pregnant woman has her hands over her bump, tears flowing from her closed eyes. Beyond her, in the other aisle, I see the Talbots in a tight embrace around their baby boy. I’m suddenly aware of how many children are on this flight, from barely walking toddlers to terrified teens. Missouri is ending lives that have barely begun.
“I was going to kill myself in Australia,” Derek says suddenly.
The rest of us exchange glances. He carries on talking, fast, as if he’s worried he won’t have time, as if he just has to spill whatever’s been eating away at him. “I don’t have a commission for this gig, you know. I paid for my own ticket. My brother lives in Sydney, and I thought I’d book on the flight, then try to place a feature in one of the travel supplements. But they all said no, one after the other.” His voice cracks, and Cesca squeezes his shoulder.
I know I should be offering similar comfort, but I can’t work him out—can’t reconcile this broken facade with the man I thought I caught a glimpse of. I take Finley’s headphones from my pocket and start unpicking the knots, my fingers working out the tension in my head. Alice has stopped texting and is staring at Derek in horror, as though whatever he’s got might be catching.
“I lost my job, last year. The editor said I’d lost my edge. Said my reporter’s instinct wasn’t sharp enough to keep up with the younger crowd. I tried to go freelance, but when I sent in ideas, everyone was already doing them in-house, or they didn’t have a budget but did I want to write it up for the website? Someone suggested I start a blog.” His laugh is hollow.
Rowan lands a fist bump of camaraderie on Derek’s upper