He slid his noise-canceling headphones into their leather case. He wound his charging cables into perfect circles. He looked like a man preparing to leave a library, not a man who had just dismantled a dynasty from 35,000 ft. Lydia felt a surge of irrational hatred. "Look at him." she thought. "So smug." "He thinks he has won.
" "But we are in London now. My husband has friends here, real friends, lords, bankers. This man is just a lawyer." The wheels slammed onto the runway. The impact threw Lydia forward against her seatbelt. The reverse thrusters engaged with a deafening roar, slowing the massive metal bird. As the plane taxied off the active runway, the usual symphony of seatbelt buckles clicking open began in the economy cabin behind them. But then the chime sounded.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Ellis speaking from the flight deck." The pilot's voice boomed through the speakers. It was not the usual cheery welcome to London voice. It was grave. It was heavy. "We have been instructed by airport authorities to hold our position on the tarmac.
We are being directed to a remote gate. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. I repeat, do not stand up. Do not open the overhead bins. We are awaiting authorities to board the aircraft." A ripple of confusion went through the cabin. "Remote gate." whispered the elderly Mr. Henderson in 2F. "That is never good.
" "That is for quarantines or criminals." Lydia whispered, a twisted smile forming on her lips. She looked at Julian. "Did you hear that, Mr. Cross? Authorities." "I hope you have your passport ready, although I doubt it will help you now." Julian did not even turn his head. He was checking his watch, that terrifyingly expensive Patek Philippe, and adjusting his cufflinks.
"I am quite looking forward to it, Mrs. Beaumont." he said softly. The plane crawled to a halt in a secluded section of the airport, far away from the bustling terminal buildings. Rain lashed against the windows, blurring the view. Through the streaks of water, flashing blue lights pulsed against the gray concrete. Not one car, three.
Three police cruisers and a black van. Lydia's heart soared. Three cars. Victor must have called the commissioner himself. "They are here to arrest this man for cyber terrorism, for hacking my accounts." She sat up straighter, fluffing her hair. She wanted to look the part of the victimized socialite. When the officers boarded, she practiced her tears.
"Just a few tears." she thought. "Make them feel the distress." The hum of the engines died down, replaced by the sound of rain drumming on the fuselage. The forward cabin door was disarmed. A heavy knock echoed through the silence of first class. Rachel, the flight attendant, A gust of cold, damp English air swept into the cabin, smelling of jet fuel and ozone. Two officers stepped on board.
They were imposing figures dressed in the dark navy uniforms of the Metropolitan Police with high-visibility yellow vests that seemed to glow in the dim cabin light. They were followed by a plainclothes detective in a gray trench coat. The lead officer, a sergeant with a shaved head and eyes that missed nothing, scanned the room.
The cabin was deathly silent. Every passenger in first class held their breath. The sergeant consulted a digital tablet in his hand. He walked slowly down the aisle, his heavy boots squeaking on the carpet. He stopped at row one. He looked at Julian first. "Mr. Julian Cross?" the sergeant asked, his voice a deep authoritative rumble.
Lydia let out a breath she did not know she was holding. "Here it comes." she thought. "Take him away." "That is me, officer." Julian said, remaining seated but nodding respectfully. "Sir, we have received your firm's digital dossier and the affidavit from the captain regarding the incident." the sergeant said.
"We also have the urgent writ from the high court regarding the preservation of evidence." "Are you unharmed?" "I am fine, sergeant." Julian replied calmly, "though I cannot say the same for my laptop." "Understood, sir. We will need a statement, but you are free to deplane first once we have secured the suspect." Lydia frowned.
"Suspect?" "Why are they talking to him so nicely?" The sergeant turned. He pivoted on his heel and faced seat 1F. The air in the cabin seemed to drop 10°. "Mrs. Lydia Beaumont?" Lydia blinked. "Yes, thank god you are here. That man." "I am Sergeant Davies of the Metropolitan Police." he interrupted, his voice cutting through her like a blade.
"I am arresting you on suspicion of common assault and endangering the safety of an aircraft under the air navigation order 2016." "Furthermore, we have an outstanding Interpol notice regarding a flight risk connected to an active liquidation fraud investigation involving Beaumont Logistics.
