the cockpit door and looked in. “What do you think, Alexes?” he asked, resting one hand on the back of Bethanne’s seat.
The pilot responded in Arabic and when Rashid spoke in the same language, the man looked abashed.
“My pardon. I told His Excellency that the plane handles like a dream. If I may take over for a while?”
Bethanne nodded and lifted her hands.
“Ahh, it does respond like a dream,” Alexes said a moment later, approval in his voice.
“Below are the ruins,” Rashid said, looking over her shoulder.
Bethanne looked out of the window, seeing the outlines of the structures they’d viewed yesterday. She kept her eyes on the ground when Alexes banked slightly so she could see the old piers marching out in the water. The crystal clarity of the Persian Gulf enabled her to clearly see each one. Her imagination was sparked by the picture below. Who had lived there? How had their lives been spent? What would they think of people soaring over them in planes they probably never even dreamed about?
Slowly the plane turned and the ruins were behind them. Below was only endless sand with hardy plants which could survive the harsh conditions. The scene became monotonous in the brown hues.
Bethanne looked over her shoulder at the sheikh. “How long to the oasis?” she asked.
“We’ll be there in time to have lunch before returning. Once you’re reassured Alexes knows what he’s doing, perhaps you’d join me in the main compartment. Try out that sofa again.”
She nodded, her heart skipping a beat. She didn’t need to try out the sofa; she knew it was the height of luxury. She would love to spend a bit more time with Rashid, however. And demonstrate to the other pilot she trusted him with the plane.
The pilot seemed competent. He was murmuring softly, as if in love with the jet. She knew the feeling. It was her favorite model to fly. Still, she didn’t leap at the chance to go back to the cabin. She had to focus on her primary responsibility, which was completing delivery of the aircraft—not spending time with the sheikh. She reviewed the various features of the cockpit, quoted fuel ratios, aeronautic facts and figures and answered all Alexes’s questions.
When she was satisfied he could handle things, she turned over the controls and rose to head to the back. Fatima was dozing in one of the chairs near the rear.
Rashid looked up from a paper he was reading and watched as she crossed the small space and sat beside him on the long sofa.
“Alexes handling things well?” he asked.
“Of course. He said it was similar to another Starcraft plane he used to fly as backup. What happened to that one?”
“It was the one your father took—they both vanished,” he said, putting aside his paper.
“It’s hard to hide an airplane.”
Just then the plane shuddered and began to dive. Bethanne took a split second to act. She was on her feet and heading for the cockpit when it veered suddenly to the right. She would have slammed into the side if Rashid had not caught her and pulled her along.
Opening the cockpit door a second later, she saw Alexes slumped over the controls. The earth rushed toward them at an alarming rate.
Rashid acted instantly, reaching to draw Alexes back. Bethanne slid into her seat and began to pull the plane from the dive. Rashid struggled to get Alexes out of the seat, but the man was unconscious and a dead weight. He called for Fatima and she hurried forward to help him, trying to guide the unconscious pilot’s legs away from the controls as the sheikh pulled him from the copilot’s seat. Once clear, she helped the sheikh carry him to the sofa while Bethanne regained control of the plane.
In only seconds the jet had resumed a normal flight pattern and once she verified the altitude, she resumed their approved flight track. Glancing around, she was relieved there were no other planes in sight.
“How is he?” she called back. The door separating the cockpit from the cabin had been propped open.
“Still unconscious…most likely a heart attack,” Rashid called, loosening Alexes’s collar.
“Oxygen is by the first-aid kit in the galley,” she yelled back. She contacted ground control. Citing an emergency, she was directed to the nearest airport, in Quraim Wadi Samil, a few miles to the south of their original route.
Glancing over her shoulder, Bethanne could glimpse most of the cabin. Fatima held the portable oxygen tank while Rashid was still bent over the pilot. She shivered, hoping he was all right. What had happened?
In seconds Alexes’s eyes flickered. He spoke in Arabic. Bethanne didn’t understand him, but applauded Rashid’s calm reply. In moments the sheikh had the older man take some aspirin and elevated his legs and feet. His color was pale, his speech slurred slightly.
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