The Abandoned (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 14) Page 6

  Something slammed into the plane like a huge fist, shaking its frame. Sarah lost her balance, fell into the seat on her right and careened off the seat on her left before smacking down onto the thin carpet of the aisle.

  Another jolt and the plane creaked like it was being opened by a giant can opener.

  She was lying beside row five. In a heightened state of panic, she got onto all fours and crawled. The plane bounced and bumped as it left the runway. She lifted off the carpet, smacked back down and bounced again as she tried to crawl past row three.

  The plane would stop and break apart at any moment now.

  Worried she might be sucked outside when the plane broke apart, and then run over, Sarah grabbed the armrests on either side of the aisle, and with great effort, got to her feet.

  With one big push, she lurched forward as the plane cracked open behind her. The nose tilted sideways and away. It felt like she made a leap that would take her four or five feet, but she was still falling ten feet later as the cockpit part of the plane rolled away from row five.

  Sunlight streamed through the large opening in the fuselage and blinded her before she landed.

  Sound dimmed until all she heard was the wailing of sirens.

  Chapter 7

  Emergency vehicles, personnel, and hundreds of passengers roamed the area. A small fire that had ignited under the defective front wheel of the ITA flight had been extinguished. As far as Sarah could tell, not a single passenger died in the crash. There were a few broken arms, bruises and one older woman was taken away on a stretcher, gauze wrapped around her head, but that was it.

  The plane was another matter. From row twenty-one to the rear of the plane, there was virtually no damage. The cockpit and the first few rows behind it were intact and lying on an angle completely separated from the rest of the plane.

  Just as predicted, rows five to twenty had fallen apart and lay in shambles across the grassy area at the end of the runway. The casualty rate would have been fifty or more if those seats hadn’t been evacuated.

  Sarah hadn’t seen anyone from the flight yet. When she leapt toward the cockpit as the plane broke apart, she followed it down until she body checked the bulkhead beside the cockpit door. Emergency personnel were rigging a ladder to bring her down. The pilots had already climbed out the cockpit window and were on the ground.

  Casper was nowhere in sight.

  The ladder touched the broken edge of the fuselage. An emergency worker stuck his head above the rim as Sarah crawled toward the edge.

  “English?” he asked.

  Sarah nodded. “Yes.”

  “Are you hurt? Can you manage the ladder on your own?”

  “I’m fine. Nothing more than bruises.”

  “Okay, I’ll start down and will remain a few rungs below you at all times. It’s only about six meters to the ground. You’ll do fine.”

  She offered him a smile for his kindness and pivoted on her knees to get into position. Once her legs were over the edge, she descended the ladder, emergency personnel surrounding the base. Some of them were police officers.

  Is this trouble, Vivian?

  At the last rung, she hopped off and turned to address the assembled crowd.

  The man who met her at the top flashed a pen light into her eyes and did a quick but thorough check for injuries.

  “I’m fine,” Sarah said.

  The man stepped back and nodded at one of the men in suits.

  “Sarah Roberts?”

  “And who are you?”

  “I’m Inspector Lars Dekker. Please come with us.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a little talk.”

  “We can talk here.”

  The inspector walked away. “Bring her.”

  Two officers on either side clamped rough hands above her elbows and half lifted, half dragged her after the inspector.

  “Am I under arrest?” Sarah shouted.

  “We will discuss that at the police station.”

  “I’m an American citizen. I demand to speak with my embassy.”

  “All in good time, Miss Roberts. All in good time.”

  As they rushed her to a waiting Mercedes, Sarah caught a glimpse of Jasmijn Luna, the senior flight crew member, mumbling something to another flight crew, watching her the entire way.

  At the car, before they shoved her inside, Conner Quinton, the fourteen-year-old young man who was the first to stand and head to the back of the plane with his mother, rushed up to the car, his mother in tow.

  Inside the vehicle, the doors closed, a uniformed officer sitting on either side of her, Sarah watched as Conner leaned down and mouthed two words.

  Thank you.

  The car sped off, but not before she got to smile and nod at him.

  All would be okay. Whatever they planned for her, she saved those people. The plane crashed and no one died. Sure, she had to resort to drastic measures to get people to listen, but isn’t that the way it always was?

  She was sure she would have to resort to drastic measures to get the Netherland authorities to listen before she flew back to Toronto.

  All she wanted was a black book and then she’d leave their country.

  As the car raced into the heart of Amsterdam, she knew something else was cooking. She couldn’t smell it yet, but something was definitely stirring. Intuition told her Casper had something to do with this.

  Hear them out, call the embassy, and be out looking for the black book by the end of day.

  It would be easy. At least a lot easier than being on a doomed airliner.

  Anything beats plane crashes.

  Anything.

  Chapter 8

  Inside the police station on Prinsengracht Street, Sarah sat behind a table in a clean interview room. The walls were painted white, but they were so bright and clean it was as if a luminance oozed from behind the paint. She recalled her time in Europe a few years ago with Parkman. The modern, newer European buildings were always so clean and smelled so new. It was different from new buildings back home. She could feel the difference but had trouble describing it.

  The room was wired for sound and cameras were fitted into multiple places. This interview was routine, especially for someone who attacked one of the flight crew. But once they saw reason, and Jasmijn told them how Sarah prevented those passengers from dying, they would have to let her go.

  The only trouble was it would take time to gather everyone up and interview them. Time to collect the information, time to deduce her role before the crash. They would investigate her personally. Inspector Dekker would learn who she was and most likely see what she could do—her special ability. That would go a long way in getting her out of here. At best, she would be detained until later in the day. At worst, later in the week. Losing a week could mean the difference between attaining the black book or having it disappear forever.

  She needed out of here as soon as possible and she needed a phone so she could call Aaron to get confirmation he understood the message she’d left him. Without knowing why yet, it was vital he attacked one of his students and then went into hiding. Something was going on in Toronto, and Aaron’s life depended on him doing his part.

  Aaron will suffer …

  After flying to Amsterdam and now cooling her heels in a decked-out interview room in a Netherlands police station, Sarah had no way of knowing if Aaron had gotten her message. It made her feel as if she’d abandoned Aaron in his time of need. Something she would never do.

  And where was Casper? He had run for the front of the plane as it landed, but when the dust settled, he was gone. He still had to answer for how he’d gotten weapons on board that flight.

  How long are they going to keep me in here, Vivian?

  Why did everything have to be so frustrating? All she wanted to do was help people. Save them from an early visit to the morgue. But everyone worked against her, thwarted her every move. If she wasn’t as motivated as she was, it would be enough to make her
quit. If people wanted to die, wanted to be used and abused, then who was she to stand in their way? Bitterness led to anger. She clenched her fists under the table. She could still fight, but after all she had endured over the past few years, she had lost something on the inside. An innocence that led to being forever jaded.

  She studied the room, thought about the building, the city. Amsterdam. She was already here. She would get the book, head back to Toronto and tell her sister to leave her alone for a while. It was time for a break before she did something that would see her in prison for a very long time.

  The interview room door clicked open, startling her. The inspector from the crash site stepped inside followed by two other uniformed officers, a woman and a man. The inspector waited until the officers were inside before he closed the door and addressed her.

  He held a file folder and several sheets of white paper. His expression was void of emotion. He’d done this many times and wasn’t giving anything away. The only one who appeared uncomfortable was the woman. Dark hair, dark eyebrows, she kept her eyes averted from Sarah’s. The other officer’s beard was cut thin and fashionable. His eyes gave his age away. He had to be in his forties and still wearing a uniform. The loss of promotions for him were probably due to the drink. His nose had broken blood vessels on each side and he already had a nervous tick about him, like his last drink was more than a few hours ago and he needed another.

  “We met at the airport.” Inspector Lars Dekker stepped away from the door and circled behind her, which she thought was a dangerous move as they hadn’t restrained her in any way. “I’m with the Royal Constabulary, one of the four services of the armed forces. A military organization, actually. Familiar with it?” He moved farther around to stand behind the female officer.

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Audible,” he said. “I need audible answers.”

  “No.”

  “No to my request for audible answers or no to my first question?”

  Sarah stared at the woman and remained silent.

  Dekker pushed on. “My rank falls under the Ministry of Defense even though we operate as a regular police force in the Netherlands.”

  “Why do I need to know all this as a tourist?” Sarah asked. “I’m here to tour Amsterdam, see the sights, photograph the canals and then head home.”

  Dekker rested his clenched fists on the table, studying her face. “I fear it’s you who has other plans, Miss Roberts.”

  His aggression toward her was clear. Dekker thought her guilty of something. Someone had fed him lies and he wasn’t going to show his cards easily.

  “Tell me, what kind of Mercedes did we ride here in?”

  “It’s a Mercedes-Benz E-Class. We have BMW X5s as unmarked vehicles as well.”

  “Bit classy for unmarked cars, isn’t it?” She tapped the table with her fingers, one after the other. “I have to say I’m impressed. Your English is impeccable.”

  “Approximately 90 percent of the people here in the Netherlands speak English. Many of them have better grammar than English-speaking natives.”

  “Bold statement.”

  “Truth. But we’re getting off topic. Let’s talk about the diamonds.”

  What diamonds?

  She leaned back in her chair at the mention of diamonds before realizing her mistake. Her surprise might be perceived incorrectly.

  “Diamonds?” she asked. “I know nothing about diamonds.”

  “Yes, diamonds,” Dekker said. His voice rose with the words.

  Inspector Dekker opened the file folder and slid two pictures across the table to Sarah.

  “On February 25, 2005, over seventy-five million euros worth of diamonds were stolen from Schiphol’s cargo terminal. They used a stolen ITA van to gain airside access.”

  Sarah studied the photos. One showed the ITA van from security footage and the other displayed the empty cargo area where the diamonds had been stowed.

  “What has this got to do with me?”

  “This decade old robbery was and still is considered one of the largest diamond thefts ever.”

  The room fell silent. Sarah waited. She was done talking, but interested to see where the inspector was headed.

  “Diamonds are in the cargo terminal again, today” he said. “As we move them to their new home in Amsterdam, security is heightened. So why do you suppose we have you here with us?”

  Sarah shrugged and raised her hands. This was ridiculous, illegal and preposterous. “No idea. You tell me.” She tried to check her anger, but couldn’t. “Maybe you like my hair. Or it could be you wanted to buy me dinner.” She slapped the table, making the female cop jolt. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want to buy me dinner. Fine. With our meal, I’ll be wanting an Amstel beer, the original Amsterdam taste. Will there be a dress code?” She looked down at her jeans, then back up to the inspector whose face had colored. “Oh shit, I’m not dressed appropriately for the restaurant you had in mind, am I?”

  Inspector Dekker nodded at his colleagues who both rose from their chairs and headed for the door.

  “What?” Sarah nearly shouted. “Was it something I said?”

  The inspector opened the door and let his officers out. The door still open, he turned back to face Sarah.

  “You’re here because we have intelligence that suggests you flew into Schiphol Airport today to steal that diamond shipment. The organization involved in the 2005 theft acknowledge they were working with a pretty blonde woman.”

  “Why would they acknowledge something like that to the authorities? That was ten years ago. I was a young teenager. Come on. You know it’s bullshit. I know nothing about diamonds and I’m not a thief.”

  “We have an insider. What do you call it in America? A mole? Deep cover? Our sources say we are to watch for a pretty blonde, tough-talking American female who might be armed. When the plane landed and we heard the stories from the other passengers that you were all those things, and that you attacked the flight crew with a knife and a gun, we knew you were the one we were looking for.”

  “I didn’t have the gun!” She slammed the table with both hands this time.

  “The courts will figure it all out. According to witnesses, you had the gun. How you got those weapons on the flight is another investigation entirely.”

  He moved backwards out the door. Before closing it, he said, “Make yourself comfortable, Miss Roberts, you’ll be with us for the duration of your trip and a lot longer, I suppose. You have broken too many laws and are a suspect in an attempted robbery at the fourth busiest airport in Europe. Your government can’t help you. Your situation is hopeless. The sooner you see that, the better. I’ll send officers down to transfer you to your holding cell before processing.”

  He closed the door with finality. Her eyes glazed over in anger as she looked down at the two photos the inspector left behind. She crumpled them up into a ball, cussed twice and threw the photos at the closed door in frustration.

  In her hopelessness, it was moments like these she wondered again why she did what she did.

  Then she remembered all the women pouring out of the panic room at the heart of the Torture Club in Toronto. All those women had been saved because of her actions.

  The people on the plane were saved because she took that flight.

  That was her purpose. She had to stay on point. Whatever was going on, it would get resolved soon. She would make it out. She always did.

  She had to.

  She slammed her fists on the table to feel better.

  It worked.

  Chapter 9

  Aaron Stevens tightened the black belt that clung to his waist. It was his dojo, his students, his class, but the new student, Juan Lopez, was doing everything in his power to disrupt the class.

  Juan was trained in commercialized Tae Kwon Do. The kind that sells on street corners all over Canada for a few twenties a month. They don’t teach discipline, style, technique and most of all they don’t teach humility. Shotoka
n Karate has a code of honor. It is a discipline in itself. But right now Aaron was trying real hard to stay disciplined and not lash out at Juan.

  The answer was simple. He had to explain to Juan that this wasn’t a class he was welcomed at anymore. It was rare to remove students, but in this case it had to be done.

  Aaron left the bathroom and entered the main area where his students were practicing a new kata. All the students but Juan, who stood off to the side whispering into his cell phone.