Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3)(65)

So far, the flight had gone smoothly and what little turbulence they had experienced was mild. The bumps didn’t seem to bother Dulce much. They didn’t seem to be any bother at all to Tiewater, who could still be heard snoring from the rear of the plane.

She let herself relax, in spite of Corso. They would be on the ground in a couple hours. Perhaps the trip wouldn’t be as bad as she or Juan feared. It was unfortunate they had to take a longer route, but after Caesare had explained the political problems involved, it made sense.

Her only major concern now was how easy it would be to find Dexter after they reached the mountain. Lee and Juan had captured Dexter’s exact pitch from the data in her previous vest and were confident that, once close enough, they could identify him again. The question was how close did they need to get? The vest’s microphone was sensitive, but the sheer amount of noise the vest had to sift through for normal communication left her wondering how effective it was going to be. And they still had to get within range for which they were relying completely on Dulce’s instincts.

The small gorilla was still insisting she could find Dexter, but DeeAnn wasn’t sure what that actually meant.

DeeAnn sat quietly, contemplating, while Caesare remained just as quiet next to her. This storm was another problem he didn’t need. Flying through a thunderstorm was damn dangerous.



It took less than thirty minutes to get the bad news. The storm had indeed turned east, and straight into their path. The two pilots seated in front of Caesare stared through the windshield with a look of dread.

Avoiding most of the storm, they would have made it with at least some fuel left. But now…their odds were fifty-fifty at best. It was growing in size and both pilots knew that no one would fly through what was ahead of them unless they had absolutely no choice. Which they now didn’t.

Colombia’s Medellin and Bogota airports had followed Venezuela’s lead and denied them permission to land, which left Iquitos, Peru, as the only runway now long enough to accept them. They could, of course, try to force their way down using the international distress frequency –– but once on the ground, Colombia would know who they were and where they were likely headed.

Now at less than ninety minutes from Iquitos and a top speed of 320 miles per hour, the C-12 Huron was four hundred and fifty miles away and burning fuel at an alarming rate.

Another sudden gust shoved the plane sideways in the air, causing everyone in the cabin to grasp something to avoid being thrown. Outside, the sky had darkened into an ominous gray as the giant storm began to envelop them.

Caesare moved back down the narrow isle to Juan and DeeAnn, the latter having stolen his seat across from Dulce. After activating the vest, she was talking to Dulce to keep her calm. Following another severe bounce, the young gorilla wrinkled her nose with concern.

No fly like bird.

DeeAnn shook her head in agreement. “No, this is not like a bird. But don’t be afraid.”

She and Juan looked up when Caesare motioned her to mute the vest.

“This storm isn’t going our way,” he said. “An emergency landing in Colombia would out us and there’s a good chance they wouldn’t let us leave. Which means our only option is to fight through this and get to Iquitos as fast as we can.” They all grabbed hold as the aircraft plunged again by several feet. “The good news is that this is a hell of a plane and Iquitos is going to be ready for us. The bad news is that conditions are going to get worse.” He looked to DeeAnn. “How are you guys holding up?”

“Not great.” DeeAnn looked to Dulce, who had her two long arms wrapped firmly around the metal armrests. She was talking less and less and DeeAnn could see increasing signs of anxiety.

“Juan?”

“I’m okay for the moment. But I may need a bag.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, patting the top of Juan’s seat. “We’re gonna make it. Just hang in there.”

It was the best thing he could think to say. And it was true what he said about the durability of the plane. Even the storm’s powerful winds couldn’t flip it, but running out of fuel was a different matter. If they could make it to the airport, there would be only one danger remaining: landing. Because as bad the wind sheers were at altitude, they were far worse at ground level.

As Caesare turned to leave, the small satellite phone in his pocket rang. He braced himself against the low ceiling with one hand and pulled the phone out with the other.

“That you, Wil?”

“It is,” Borger answered. “How you guys doing?”

“Getting pretty bouncy, but we’ll make it.” Hopefully, Caesare thought.