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  CRISIS IN THE SKIES

  Pilots with no control…

  High above the Adirondack Mountains, a commuter flight to New York City turns into a rolling, twisting nightmare, plunging from the sky before the crew regains control. Then, in London, a jetliner crashes into the runway, killing fifteen people.

  Investigators with no answers…

  Reporter Kate Page believes something beyond mechanical—or human—error is behind the incidents that have air investigators baffled. But the mystery deepens as teams scramble to pinpoint a link between the tragedies, and Kate receives an untraceable message from someone boasting responsibility and threatening another event.

  A looming disaster…

  As Kate, the FBI and the NTSB race to find answers, the shadow figures behind the operation launch their most devastating plan yet, and time ticks down on one of the greatest tragedies the world has ever known.

  Praise for the novels of Rick Mofina

  “Six Seconds should be Rick Mofina’s breakout thriller. It moves like a tornado.”

  —James Patterson, New York Times bestselling author

  “Six Seconds is a great read. Echoing Ludlum and Forsythe, author Mofina has penned a big, solid international thriller that grabs your gut—and your heart—in the opening scenes and never lets go.”

  —Jeffery Deaver, New York Times bestselling author

  “The Panic Zone is a headlong rush toward Armageddon. Its brisk pace and tight focus remind me of early Michael Crichton.”

  —Dean Koontz, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on The Panic Zone

  “Rick Mofina’s tense, taut writing makes every thriller he writes an adrenaline-packed ride.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen

  “Mofina’s clipped prose reads like short bursts of gunfire.”

  —Publishers Weekly on No Way Back

  “Mofina is one of the best thriller writers in the business.”

  —Library Journal (starred review) on They Disappeared

  “Vengeance Road is a thriller with no speed limit!

  It’s a great read!”

  —Michael Connelly, New York Times bestselling author

  Also by Rick Mofina and MIRA Books

  FULL TILT

  EVERY SECOND

  WHIRLWIND

  INTO THE DARK

  THEY DISAPPEARED

  THE BURNING EDGE

  IN DESPERATION

  THE PANIC ZONE

  VENGEANCE ROAD

  SIX SECONDS

  Other books by Rick Mofina

  A PERFECT GRAVE

  EVERY FEAR

  THE DYING HOUR

  BE MINE

  NO WAY BACK

  BLOOD OF OTHERS

  COLD FEAR

  IF ANGELS FALL

  For more information, please visit www.rickmofina.com.

  RICK MOFINA

  Free Fall

  This book is for Barbara

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-One

  Fifty-Two

  Fifty-Three

  Fifty-Four

  Fifty-Five

  Fifty-Six

  Fifty-Seven

  Fifty-Eight

  Fifty-Nine

  Sixty

  Sixty-One

  Sixty-Two

  Sixty-Three

  Sixty-Four

  Sixty-Five

  Sixty-Six

  Sixty-Seven

  Sixty-Eight

  Sixty-Nine

  Seventy

  Seventy-One

  Seventy-Two

  Seventy-Three

  Seventy-Four

  Seventy-Five

  Seventy-Six

  Seventy-Seven

  Seventy-Eight

  Seventy-Nine

  Eighty

  Eighty-One

  Eighty-Two

  Eighty-Three

  Eighty-Four

  Eighty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments & A Personal Note

  Excerpt from Every Second by Rick Mofina

  One

  Buffalo, New York

  You’re not going to die today.

  Kayla repeated her prayer as the boarding call for her flight at Buffalo Niagara International Airport was announced. Her thoughts raced as she clutched her boarding pass and ID while inching through the line to Gate 20. After the gate agent had cleared her, Kayla felt Logan’s reassuring hand on her shoulder as they walked along the jetway to their plane.

  “You’re gonna be fine,” he said.

  She offered him a weak smile. Drawing on the advice she’d absorbed from her motivational books and recordings, she fought her fear of flying by repeating her mantra.

  I can do this. I’ve faced worse.

  The jet was a new-model regional aircraft with eighty-six passenger seats, and today’s flight was full. Their seats were in the fourteenth row on the left side. Logan took the aisle. Kayla took the window.

  After they’d stowed their bags overhead Kayla buckled her belt and continued battling her anxiety by attacking her scariest thoughts.

  This plane is not going to crash. I’m safe. My boyfriend’s with me.

  Logan took her hand in his and tried to calm her.

  “Remember how important this trip is? Just think about that.”

  Kayla nodded, concentrating on the reason why she had to get on this plane: because her dream was within her grasp. Tomorrow morning in New York City, she’d be interviewed for a position with a rising new fashion designer, Maly Kriz-Janda. The house had offices in London, Paris and Milan. It had recently opened a Manhattan office and was hiring new designers.

  The jet’s door was shut and locked. An inboard chime sounded followed by an announcement.

  “Flight attendants, prepare for departure.”

  The attendants ensured the overhead bin doors were closed and seats and trays were up as the plane pushed back from the gate. The cabin lights flickered as the engines came on and the plane taxied out.


  “Logan, the wings are bouncing.”

  “It’s okay. They’re built to flex like that. It’s normal.”

  As the attendants gave safety demonstrations about seat belts, flotation devices and emergency exits, for use “in the unlikely event...” Kayla heard the hydraulic moan of the flaps as they were adjusted by the pilot. The plane turned then stopped for several moments. As the engines whined louder another chime sounded.

  “Attendants, prepare for takeoff.”

  The knot in Kayla’s stomach tightened as the plane began rolling down the runway, slowly at first, gaining speed then accelerating faster, the ground blurring beneath them. Kayla struggled to control her breathing as the jet’s nose rose before she heard a thud when the weight lifted from the landing gear and the plane left the ground.

  The thrust was overwhelming as the force of the climb pushed her into her seat. Kayla heard the groan and bump of the landing gear’s retraction. She squeezed Logan’s hand, shutting her eyes for a moment. Somehow, she found the strength to peek down at the earth, the expressways, buildings and suburbs rapidly shrinking below.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  As the plane leveled off, Kayla took a deep breath to calm herself, and the flight attendant made a series of announcements about keeping seat belts fastened, using electronic devices and the upcoming in-flight refreshment service.

  “How’re you doing?” Logan asked.

  Kayla nodded stiffly, smiling, still gripping his hand as he lowered his tray with his other hand.

  “I’m getting some tomato juice,” he said. “What about you?”

  “A diet cola, whatever they have.”

  Not long after they’d received their drinks there was another announcement.

  “This is Captain Raymond Matson with First Officer Roger Anderson. On behalf of our entire crew, welcome aboard EastCloud Flight Forty-nine Ninety. Very shortly we’ll reach our cruising altitude of twenty-seven thousand feet. Everything’s looking good. We have no weather ahead of us and no traffic jams at LaGuardia, so we expect a very smooth flight arriving on time. We should have you in New York at the gate in about an hour and ten minutes.”

  “There you go,” Logan said. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

  Kayla nodded and sipped her drink.

  As the flight cut across Upstate New York, she tried to relax by focusing on the opportunity awaiting her in Manhattan. She’d studied fashion at Buffalo State where a professor, impressed with her designs, had done all he could to help her get noticed.

  But nothing had happened.

  After graduating Kayla had found a full-time position selling women’s clothing at the mall in Cheektowaga, the Walden Galleria. While she was uncertain about her aspirations and her future, she was grateful to have a job so she could start paying off her student loans.

  Then, three weeks ago, everything had changed when, through her professor’s help, Kayla was short-listed for a position with Maly Kriz-Janda in Manhattan. They’d loved Kayla’s designs and the position involved flying to Los Angeles, Miami and Toronto for major conferences with North American retailers. Kayla wanted the job with all of her heart and had begun working on overcoming her fear of flying. But her expected call for an interview never came. The other candidates had been stronger.

  Heartbroken, Kayla had soldiered on at the mall. Then, last week, her professor had learned that the two candidates ahead of her had dropped out of the running. One had accepted a job at Versace, and the other had gone to Givenchy. Two days ago, Maly Kriz-Janda had called Kayla, requesting she be in Manhattan for an interview as soon as possible. They’d pay all expenses—flight, hotel, meals and cabs.

  Logan was thrilled for her. She’d asked him to go with her because she’d never flown before, and was terrified. He’d agreed, using his sister’s points to cover his flight.

  What if I get the job? Kayla had asked him. I’d have to move to New York City. What would happen to us?

  Logan, who was still in law school, had told her not to worry.

  I’ll look into applying and transferring to a school there, he’d said. But don’t think about that. We’ll cross that bridge later.

  Logan was good to her and she knew it. She took comfort in having him beside her now on what was her first—and maybe the most important—flight of her life.

  “Hey, smile,” he said, pointing his phone at her. “I’m making a documentary of your first flight.”

  Kayla waved.

  “I’m really doing it. I’m flying. I’m nervous but I’m doing it.”

  Then she turned to her window to take in the view below.

  “It’s so pretty down there. Where are we?”

  “I think we’re over the Catskill Mountains,” Logan said.

  “Oh, I’ve got to take a picture.”

  Kayla held up her phone to the window but it flew from her hand and her seat belt cut deep into her as the plane suddenly rolled hard, the right wing tipping toward the ground as if the jet was flipping over.

  Bodies bumped over seats as people not belted were tossed to the right wall, along with laptops, backpacks and purses amid shrieks and loud bangs as items thudded and hammered in the overhead bins. The service trolley crashed into passengers in the right rows, spilling hot coffee and raining down cans of soda and juice.

  The jet froze with its wings in a twelve-and-six-o’clock position.

  Kayla clawed at Logan, locking her arms around him as people screamed, cursed and prayed.

  Then the plane lurched hard to the left with the left wing pointing directly to the earth. Again, bodies flew through the cabin, slamming against other passengers, the wall and the overhead luggage bins. The bin doors opened and luggage tumbled like boulders along the left row. Logan reached out to grab an older woman who’d fallen into them but she slipped from his grip as the jet suddenly rolled right until it was almost level.

  Now it began dropping, banking downward, as if it would spiral out of control. Passengers yelled and screamed, some calling out to God before the crew regained control and finally leveled the plane.

  “Please, please, let this be over,” Kayla whispered through her tears.

  In the aftermath, the attendants, despite being hurt and bleeding, took charge. Even as the sounds of crying and moaning passengers filled the plane, people began helping each other. Kayla thrust her face into Logan’s chest, slid her arms around him and sobbed, feeling his heart beating rapidly against her face.

  Logan held her tight as the jet resumed a smooth flight.

  Kayla prayed for the plane to land.

  Get us back on the ground! Please, God, get us back on the ground!

  Her cheek twitched as something wet and warm splashed on her skin; one drop then another. As she pulled back, she saw blood dripping down on them from the little boy who’d been contorted into the open luggage bin above them.

  Two

  Manhattan, New York

  “New York, EastCloud Forty-nine Ninety...declar—an emer—”

  “EastCloud Forty-nine Ninety, transmission garbled, say again...”

  Kate Page, a reporter with Newslead, detected something in the chatter crackling from the news agency’s emergency scanners. More than a dozen of them issued a constant stream of coded bursts across from where she sat in the newsroom. Kate stopped her current work, jotted down the name of the airline, the flight number and listened.

  “...EastCloud Forty-nine Ninety...injur—request—medic—”

  Sounds like “injuries” and a call for medical services.

  She listened as the dispatches continued echoing in the news department.

  It was Saturday and the newsroom was nearly empty.

  Kate had a bad feeling about what she’d heard. She went online. EastCloud 4990 w
as a commercial flight that had originated in Buffalo and was bound for LaGuardia. It was a new Richlon-TitanRT-86 with a capacity for eighty-six passengers. She quickly checked social media feeds. No one was tweeting about the flight.

  Not so far, anyway.

  She glanced at the corner and the glass-walled cubicle known as the scanner room. Reporters called it “the torture chamber,” because if you were assigned to sit in it you had to endure and decipher the chaotic, simultaneous cross-talk flowing from metropolitan New York City’s police, fire department, paramedics and other responders.

  But no one was there.

  The cubicle door was open, which is how Kate had been able to hear the chatter from the scanner.

  What’s going on? Why isn’t someone listening?

  This broke Newslead’s cardinal rule: never, ever leave the scanners unattended. Emergency scanners were the lifeblood of any news operation, alerting the reporters to the first cries for help, pulling them into stories that would stop the heart of the city.

  Or break it.

  Kate’s years of listening to police radios while working on crime desks in newsrooms across the country had given her the ability to pluck a key piece of data from dozens of staccato exchanges all happening at the same time. She knew the alphanumeric code systems. She could pick out a trace of emotion in a dispatcher’s voice, the underlying tension in a transmission. This was a skill Newslead, the global wire service, demanded from every member of its reporting staff, especially here at its world headquarters in Manhattan, where the competition was fierce. But the incessant noise, the confusion and pressure not to miss anything was torturous for some reporters, making a shift on the scanners the most dreaded job in the newsroom.

  Another transmission from air traffic control crackled.

  “EastCloud Forty-nine Ninety, we can give you Teterboro or Newark.”

  The jet’s response was overtaken by static.

  Damn. There’s a jetliner in trouble with injuries aboard and we don’t know where it’s headed.

  Kate glared at the empty scanner room.

  This is how we miss stories. This is how we get beat.

  She made a quick check of the bank of flat-screen TV monitors tilted down from the ceiling over rows of empty desks. The sets were tuned to news channels with the volume turned low. Most newsrooms in New York subscribed to professional scanner-listening services that sent out alerts. Newslead had cut its subscription years ago to save money.