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Captain Marilee shakes her head. “The Cessna’s radio wouldn’t make a difference—Honolulu is well beyond our transmission range. We fly NORDO for over half the trip. It’s part of the challenge of serving such a remote location.”
“You don’t have a satellite system?” Vaughn pushes.
“Not on this craft. Though…” Marilee pauses, glances at Brent.
“The ELT,” he murmurs.
“What’s an ELT?” I ask on behalf of the technologically ignorant.
“An emergency locator transmitter. It automatically deploys after a crash to help rescuers find the aircraft, but we can also activate ours via a manual switch in the cockpit. The ELT does use satellite technology and would alert the closest search and rescue agency while providing our GPS coordinates.”
“Flip the switch and help is on the way,” I summarize.
Both pilots nod.
I sigh heavily. “I would check on the ELT. I’m assuming it’s not that hard to access, maybe even remove?”
“Fuck.” MacManus is already on his feet. He gestures to his bodyguards. “With me.”
He heads for the door, Elias having to scramble to get in front of him in order to take the bullet. Does it matter that Keahi prefers knives? I’m feeling a little lightheaded. Maybe even hysterical. Take a job for a serial killer, and this is what happens. What the hell was I thinking?
That a seventeen-year-old girl might be in jeopardy. The same one now standing up and meekly following the parade of bodyguards, pilots, and anxious personal staff out the door. MacManus’s team empties out. The rest of us don’t know what to do.
Tannis and Emi cross to where Charlie remains seated. Trudy and Ann are already there, Vaughn, too, though he’s scowling off into the distance as if he’s mentally working through a particularly complex calculus equation. In many ways, I’m sure he is.
“You need to get off the island.” Charlie speaks up, his voice low. “If MacManus won’t agree, make the pilots do it anyway. Transport as many people as possible, get to Oahu. Quickly, while there’s still enough daylight for taking off.”
“Nice accent,” I say. Because all trace of Australia is gone. He sounds as plain old American as I do.
Tannis eyes him worriedly, as if losing one’s accent is a side effect of a concussion.
“Who are you, really?” Ann demands to know, half angry, half hurt. Trudy is shaking her head, clearly disappointed in the man they thought was their friend.
“You need to get off the atoll. As many of you as possible.”
“The Cessna is designated for eight passengers, and that includes using the toilet as an extra seat.” Vaughn is paying more attention than we’d realized. “Given the short runway, the atoll can only accommodate a light jet, hence the size restriction. We might be able to sit two more on the floor, but then the extra weight will start messing with the plane’s ability to gain enough lift before plowing into the ocean.”
“As many as you can,” Charlie repeats. “Forget radioing for assistance. Arrive in Honolulu and make the request in person.”
I decide to go about this a different way. “Is there anyone specific we should contact?”
Charlie flickers a glance in my direction. “Special Agent Clara Gehweiler, FBI.”
“Tell her Charlie sent us?”
“That’ll work.”
“Who are you?” Ann gives up on anger, leans heavy into the hurt.
Charlie directs his attention to Vaughn. “Captain Marilee probably has a sidearm. Get it from her before she departs. We’re gonna need more than the rifle and shotgun in your office.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on here? Threat assessment?”
“MacManus, Leilani Pierson, or Keahi Pierson, or all three?” I pile on.
Charlie doesn’t answer, so much as his gaze travels around the dining room, the others still gathered at the far table.
“Someone else? Or more?” My voice is now as low as his, but higher on the fear factor. “Is this about the sabotage, which I’m assuming wasn’t your handiwork, as you had to fix everything?”
