The Dark Edge Chronicles - Clan War

Hand Snakes on a Plane

Thankfully the human, in light of how frequently air flights were targeted by terrorist post 9-11, was well trained. So, beyond his eyes widening, he gave nothing away to possible observers deeper in the cabin.

Instead, he subtly nodded and casually straightened up to step to the flight deck door. A light tap and he was whispering through the cracked open door.

A heartbeat later a fairly nondescript human stepped out of economy.

"Excuse me," he said to the remaining steward still in the front of the plane. When the steward turned to him, he smiled.

"Think I could get a bottle of water, mate?" he asked in a light British accent.

As the steward nodded and turned to the pantry, Lash found the man's hand extended toward him. A look at it yielded a sky marshal's identity. In response Lash put his Interpol ID onto his leg in the man's sight line but no-one else's.

He then held out a plain black card and put that on his leg. It was a symbol pulled from the Interpol database that was used to warn of an in-flight attack.

"Thanks, mate," the man said with a nod and smile as the steward handed him the bottle of water. He quickly unscrewed the top and took a swallow.

"So dry the air in these things," he said casually. "I go through at least four or five bottles even on short hops."

"I know what you mean," Lash said in response to the coded query where the marshal was asking how many assailants and where they were located in the plane.

"But I go for the cheap stuff, no bubbles. Those I can drink like ten or more, scattered throughout the flight."

"Ten? Damn, mate. You get help drinking those? You have to bloody swimming after all that!"

Lash chuckled.

"To the point I feel ready to explode. But if I don't, nosebleeds for days!"

It was the air marshal's turn to chuckle.

"Well, wish you luck then, friend. And if you find you have too many, you can pass a couple back to me in Economy, in 7C."

"Will do," Lash said, flashing a thumbs up before the man disappeared back towards his seat.

While seemingly innocuous, the brief, coded exchange had been vital. Not only had he alerted the air marshal to the possibility of ten or more attackers poised to storm the plane. But the marshal had also communicated his level of preparation and willingness to assist.

Getting the marshal on board with their plan was vital. In his search of the Interpol air terror database, there had been scenario walk-throughs and communication protocols outlined that, if he performed them properly and in the right sequence, he could leversge the plane's crew and the marshal into helping them. Not to mention, setting it up similar to the closing moments of the train attack, would help sell the terrorist angle, hiding the fact that it was vampires attacking, preserving the dark secret.

So he had spent some time memorizing the protocols in case scenario two became a reality. Thanks to his Qos Viran training, he easily absorbed the information in a short time, packing it away into his short memory for quick retrieval. And here they were.

A motion out of the corner of his eye pulled Lash's eyes to the flight deck door, which led to the cockpit. And he watched the pilot slip out and turn to the steward to ask for a bottle of water.

Knowing that was the signal to approach, Lash stood and stepped to the business class toilet.

"Occupied," he said out loud for the benefit of any listening. "Guess I'll wait." And he folded his arms as if to do just that.