Flight 666 (Moment of Death) Read online

  Flight 666

  Copyright © 2011 by Drusilla Winters

  Published by 711 Press

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction, therefore names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-935702-05-4

  Published in the United States of America

  The weather gods obviously had a keen sense of irony. Atherton Airlines flight 666, the New York to Seattle red-eye, was delayed by turbulent weather, and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference that airline owner William Atherton was a passenger on the flight. Atherton glanced through the window at the blustery night sky and forced himself to remain calm. He’d go to the VIP lounge and get himself an expensive single-malt Scotch or some good bourbon and wait out the weather with his personal assistant, Evy Noel.

  Atherton frowned as he and Evy passed the sparsely filled waiting area for Gate B-22, where the regular passengers were waiting for the flight. There were people wearing torn jeans and T-shirts with crude messages, others with scruffy shorts and flip-flops. Not a single waiting passenger wore a suit and tie or a nice skirt or dress. He remembered—vaguely—the days when air travel had been considered glamorous and only the well-heeled and well-dressed could afford to fly. As his annoyance grew, he heard a voice rise in indignation.

  “Frickin’ airline ought to be sued,” a man with a high-pitched voice was saying to nobody in particular. “Wonder how late we’ll be this time.”

  Atherton stopped short and turned toward the complainer. The man was enormous, a grotesquely obese creature with uncountable chins and mean, beady eyes hiding in a pasty face that looked as if it had been carved from a vat of pink lard. He was licking chocolate off the fingers of his right hand and crumpling the wrapper of a candy bar with his left. When he sat down, the entire row of chairs shuddered and creaked. Atherton glared at him and felt his blood pressure rising.

  “Shall we go, Mr. Atherton?” Evy said. “To the lounge?”

  “I know where we’re going, Evy,” Atherton growled.

  He looked again at the behemoth who was defiling one of his airline’s waiting areas. He wanted to ask the gigantic slug if he expected the airline to control the weather. He wanted to tell him that since he weighed four times what a normal passenger did, he was lucky he didn’t have to pay quadruple fare. He wanted to tell him that since he looked like a blimp, perhaps he should take one instead of an airplane.

  Atherton felt a vein throbbing in his head. He took a breath and looked away from the elephantine figure who had had the audacity to complain. He felt dizzy. He gave a sidelong glance toward Evy, who was looking at him with some concern. “What are you staring at, girl?” he snapped. “Let’s get away from these proles and get to the lounge.”

  “Yes, sir,” Evy said.

  Once again Evy swallowed her pride and bit back her resentment. She had been doing that for so long, it was second nature. Her face gave away nothing, retaining its well-practiced appearance of perfect impassivity. Besides, she’d never risk her shot at a promotion and the long-term security it would bring in exchange for the short-lived satisfaction of telling off the miserable crank she worked for.

  As they passed an airport saloon, Evy glanced in and was startled to see Sarah Loth, her former college roommate, sitting at the bar. Sarah also happened to be William Atherton’s estranged daughter, and Evy wondered if Atherton knew she was here. It would be more than a little amusing if father and daughter were booked on the same flight, Evy thought. Atherton, as usual, was walking ahead of Evy, and he never noticed her pause. Evy saw Sarah look up from her drink as a man—it was someone with a vaguely familiar face—approached her. Evy turned away and hurried to catch up to her boss before Sarah caught sight of her. In her haste, she didn’t notice the man who came out of the men’s room and was staring at her and Atherton. But the gentleman in question certainly noticed her.

  Glen Reed stopped so abruptly that the man behind nearly bumped into him. Reed was surprised to see William Atherton, a man he once worked for, out in public. Atherton had such a fear of being recognized that it was rumored he used disguises whenever he left the safety of his office or the privacy of his chauffeur-driven car, a vehicle whose mirrored windows had never been lowered. And there was darling Evy, Atherton’s uptight but highly efficient personal assistant. Sadly, Atherton had sacked Reed before he got to meet Evy, but he had checked her out before he got the boot. Evy was a sweet mystery, a seemingly aloof and unemotional woman, but Reed had suspected there was more to her than met his jaundiced eye. He had been determined to explore those suspicions, but before he could even introduce himself to her, he’d been canned by Atherton, and his Evy fantasies had been frustrated. Those fantasies came roaring back to life now. Although Evy’s face tended toward the plain and was never adorned by makeup, she couldn’t hide the fact, no matter how many unflattering business suits she wore, that she had a hot body. Reed smiled. He had always regretted not getting to know Evy, but—who knew?—perhaps tonight he’d have another chance.

  As Reed headed toward the waiting area for flight 666, he spotted another woman he recognized, a creature with a body that outdid even Evy’s stunning figure. He couldn’t help but gawk as the dazzling dish walked into the women’s room. She didn’t seem to recognize him, but then a high-class hooker like her would no doubt have too many customers to remember them all. Reed toyed with the notion of loitering outside the women’s room until she came out but then thought better of it and moved on.

  Mary Hartsford stared at herself in the women’s room mirror and smiled. Perfection. Perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body. She pouted and then put on her best come-hither look. The man who had just been staring her up and down looked like a high-roller businessman type, just the kind of man who made up Mary’s clientele. Perhaps he’d be on her flight. She raised an enchanting eyebrow at herself. She might even be able to do a little business tonight. She wrinkled her nose and winked. This flight just might pay for itself and then some.

  Sarah Loth sat in a corner of the airport bar, nursing a mango margarita and waiting for her delayed flight. What she was really waiting for was a fresh start. Just her luck it would be delayed. She cast her mind back to her first fresh start on life, at the tender age of six, when she’d been forced to attend a boarding school full of snobs. How many fresh starts had she made since then? She’d lost count, but in the twenty years since that first fearful day at boarding school, she had learned a lot. She had learned how to use her considerable beauty and practiced charm to manipulate people’s emotions. She had learned how to use her seductive skills to live a life of luxury, beginning in her early teens. And she had learned how to lie, cheat, and steal to get what she wanted.

  So why was she crying? She never cried except when she was putting on a performance for the benefit of some easily controlled sucker. But the fact that poverty was staring her in the face was very real. She was on her own again, with no resources except her looks and her artificial charisma. The thought of it was giving her a headache.

  At least this flight wouldn’t cost her anything. Daddy still let her fly his precious Atherton Airlines for free, even though he’d disowned her for the supposed sin of never having worked a day in her life. But why should she work if she di
dn’t have to? She was proud of not being a wage slave. Too bad her old man didn’t own a taxicab company as well as an airline. Sarah looked around at the handful of other bar patrons and wondered if she might be able to make the acquaintance of some lone gentleman on her flight and get a ride with him after the plane landed. And if she had to pay for that ride with something other than money—which she had precious little of at the moment—what else was new? She raised her margarita, made a silent toast to herself, and downed the rest of it.

  And then there was Gabriel. She probably should be glad her fiancé had kicked her to the curb. She had grown tired of him. She always grew tired of them, but he’d lasted longer than any of the others. He had also cheated on her, had probably even paid for a little on the side. Yeah, she was lucky he’d thrown her out—it saved her the trouble of having to orchestrate another ugly breakup scene. And his angry words and near-violent actions had allowed her to rationalize stealing his car to drive to the airport.

  And who was really the loser? He’d never have better than her. He probably already regretted sending her packing, most likely would beg her to come back home if he had the chance. She looked over her shoulder toward the entrance to the bar. Or knock her senseless for swiping the Maserati.

  Still, her ego was bruised, and she didn’t like it. She was the one who was supposed to be in control, not Gabriel, not anybody—just her. She’d find another lucky sucker and start again. It would be easy. It was what she was good at. So why did she keep thinking about him?

  She ordered another margarita.

  “You look thirsty.”

  Sarah turned to see a dark-skinned man approaching her. He wore a smile that could melt chocolate.

  “Bartender, put her drinks on my tab,” the man added with a wink, and then he introduced himself. “My name is Terrance Sully, but my friends call me T-Sul.” He pronounced his name as if it should be up in lights.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Skully,” she said, not sure why she had deliberately mispronounced his name, which she had recognized instantly.

  He chuckled and said, “That’s Sully, but call me T-Sul. You might have heard of me.”

  “Sorry, can’t say that I have,” she lied.

  “Ever hear of the Love in Strange Places erotic video series?”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  He took the barstool next to her and ordered a margarita for himself and another round for her. “My flight has been delayed, and I saw you sitting by yourself. I figured you could use some company.”

  “Sure, if you’re buying,” she replied.

  “I am if you’re drinking,” he said.

  “So, Mr. T-Sully, you must be headed to Seattle.”

  “Just for a layover, then I’m off to Japan. But call me T-Sul, just plain T-Sul.”

  “I’ve never been to Japan,” she cooed. “Are you going for business or pleasure?” At the word “pleasure” she raised her eyebrows slightly and gave him a vaguely enticing smile.

  “Extended business trip. I’m considering relocating.”

  “Tell me more,” she said, suddenly interested in this porn impresario who was dressed like a pimp. He was famous—infamous might be the more appropriate word—for filming, dating, and discarding sweet young bimbos, and rumor had it that he’d recently gotten himself into some kind of jam. Perhaps his trip to Japan was less about doing business in the Far East than it was about fleeing the U.S. Maybe if she played her cards right she could get something out of him before he fled and not have to worry about ever seeing him again. “Yes, do tell me more,” she repeated.

  And he did. He told her a lot. He didn’t say much about Japan, though, at least nothing that rang true. Sarah was an accomplished liar, and she could usually tell when someone else was dissembling. Not that she cared. She let him chatter on about this and that—mostly about himself, what else was new?—and happily let him buy her drinks.

  By the time their flight was ready to board, he was beyond having a mere buzz on and was approaching full-on intoxication. But Sarah had a secret weapon—she could out drink most men even while playing the part of a ditzy blonde lush. She let T-Sul hold her upright, pretending she was wobbly on her feet, but in reality he was far more in the bag than she was, and—what else was new?—she hoped to use that to her advantage.

  They boarded the plane and turned into the aisle. After passing several rows, T-Sul said, “Here’s my seat. I would’ve been in first class flying bad-boy style if I hadn’t booked last minute.”

  “Looks like I’m in the back,” Sarah said.

  “Shoot,” T-Sul said. “Tell you what—I’ll convince whoever is sitting next to me to switch seats with you. Then we’ll get to spend a little quality time together before Seattle.”

  He winked, and she winked back. They should give Oscars for real-life performances, she thought.

  It took her a while to work her way to the back of the plane. She had to halt every few feet as people in front of her stopped to hoist bags into the overhead bins. She heard a child whining and thought it would be nice to stow him in an overhead bin as well. A chloroform-drenched hankie held over the lad’s face for a minute or two, and then a long nap among the carry-ons and garment bags. She chuckled at the thought. Too bad she didn’t have any chloroform. Gabriel probably could have gotten some. He was a doctor after all. Damn, there she went again, thinking about her stupid ex-fiancé. She’d have to stop doing that. She got to her row and took her seat by the window.

  She closed her eyes and began to relax when she heard more whining, this time from two children in the aisle, whose mother, a Chinese woman who reminded Sarah of Gabriel’s ex-wife, was barking orders at them. Tiger moms of the world, unite, Sarah thought to herself, and then wondered how many chloroformed children it would take to fill all the overhead compartments.

  The threesome finally settled down, only to be replaced by an even greater horror, the ultimate nightmare of every air traveler. Sarah was appalled. The immense creature trundling down the aisle and eyeing her row looked like a cross between a sauropod and the Hindenburg. His head was tiny yet fat, and his body was round yet misshapen. He made Orson Welles look like a runway model. Sarah held her breath and prayed. It didn’t do any good—what else was new? The monster entered her row and took the center seat, his quivering flesh spilling onto the seats on either side. Sarah recoiled, but she was sitting by the window and there was no place to go. The sight of the hideous hippopotamus was repellant but, in a way, also fascinating, and she couldn’t keep from staring. It was like watching a car wreck. But when she saw the smear of glistening chocolate decorating a corner of the thing’s blubbery mouth, she nearly heaved up her mango margaritas. She hoped T-Sul would come through with the seat exchange, but who, she wondered, would willingly give up a place in the front to sit next to Jabba the Hutt?

  She stood up and slid past the monster and into the aisle. She headed for the lavatory and was nearly bumped by a man exiting. He reminded her of Gabriel, but she told herself to stop thinking such things.

  Inside the lavatory, she peered into the mirror. The face of a tempting sex kitten stared back. The only shortcoming was her slightly bloodshot eyes. That’s why they call it the red-eye, she thought. She popped out her contact lenses and put a drop of artificial tears into each eye. It didn’t matter if she could see T-Sul clearly as long as he could see her. It was time to rock his world and see what developed. Who knew, she might even score herself a free trip to Japan.

  The lights in the lavatory dimmed, flickered once, and died. She felt around in her handbag for the tiny flashlight she kept there, but the lights came back on before she found it. She looked into the mirror for a final check, and her heart nearly seized up at what she saw there. A skull was staring back at her. She jumped back and slammed against the door of the lavatory, but the awful vision in the mirror disappeared as quickly as it had come. Her lovely and sexy—if slightly ashen—face greeted her from the mirror. She exite
d the lavatory and returned to her seat.

  Sarah stopped at her row and peered toward the front of the plane, looking for T-Sul. No luck. She turned to the overstuffed ogre taking up most of the space and forced a smile. “Excuse me,” she said in as sweet a voice as she could muster.

  Instead of getting up and letting her in, Moby Hick just turned slightly, barely moving his tree-stump legs. She grimaced as she squeezed past. After she took her seat, he turned to her, smiled with his sausage-like lips, and said, “Hello, my name is Tony.”

  Tony ate too much baloney, she thought, but she nodded in his direction, whispered “Sarah,” and then immediately reclined her seat and closed her eyes, ending, she hoped, any chance of small talk, which, besides his tiny head, would have been the only small thing about this hulking whale of a passenger. Well, there was probably one other small thing about him, but she erased that disgusting thought from her mind before she barfed. Just in case there might be any doubt about her sociability, she withdrew an eye mask from a side pocket of her purse and put it on.

  As the airplane began taxiing to the runway, Sarah pulled up one side of her mask and peeked out, looking for T-Sul. There was still no sign of him. She readjusted the mask and settled back, wondered if her daddy had been responsible for putting the Incredible Bulk next to her. And now, as if to add insult to injury, the cabin was becoming uncomfortably warm. Atherton Airlines was going to the dogs. Her entire body was overheated now. The Miss Piggy clone sitting next to her couldn’t be throwing off that much body heat, could he?

  Something was seriously amiss. She was beginning to perspire, and she could feel her blood pulsing through her veins. She thought she heard the sound of rear van doors opening and shutting, followed by the sound of small wheels rolling on concrete.

  Sarah ripped off her eye mask. She was surrounded by total darkness, and she felt as if she were falling. Her body went rigid, her heart was racing. The darkness dissolved, and she saw bright lights whizzing above her. She was lying on her back, strapped onto something like a hospital gurney. She heard voices.