“Twenty minutes, maybe.”

“Good, there is still time.”

“Time for what?”

His hand slid down to his ankle and came up filled with a snub-nosed revolver.

“If our friend hadn't been so anxious to give me a headache, he would have found this,” he said with a grim smile.

This was definitely not the same rumpled man who had seemed more like an absentminded professor than a bodyguard. Francesca's elation was tempered by reality. “What can you do? They have at least two guns, and we can't fly the plane.”

“Forgive me, Senhora Cabral. Another failure to be forthright on my part.” Sounding almost guilty, he said, “I forgot to mention that I was in the Brazilian air force before I joined the secret service. Please help me up.”

Francesca was speechless. What other rabbits would this man pull out of his hat? She gave him a hand until he was able to stand on shaky legs. After a minute a new strength and determination seemed to flow through his body. “Stay here until I tell you what to do,” he said with the air of a man used to people obeying his command.

He went forward and opened the door. The pilot glanced over his shoulder and said, “Hey, look who's back from the land of the living dead. Guess I didn't hit you hard enough.”

“You don't get a second chance,” Phillipo said. He jammed the revolver barrel under the Texan's ear hard enough to hurt. “If I shoot one of you, the other can still fly. Which one will it be?”

“Christ, you said you took his gun!” Carlos said.

“You've got a short memory, cavaleiro,” the pilot replied calmly. “You shoot us and who's going to fly the plane?”

“I will, cavaleiro. Sorry I didn't bring my pilot's license with me. You'll have to take my word for it.”

Riordan turned his head slightly and saw the cold smile wreathing the bodyguard's face.

“I take back what I said about dealing with a professional,” Riordan said. “What now, partner?”

“Give me the two guns. One at a time.”

The pilot handed over his pistol and the one he had taken from Phillipo. The bodyguard passed the weapons back to Francesca, who had come up behind him.

“Get out of your seat,” he ordered, backing into the cabin. “Slowly.”

Riordan caught the copilot's eye and levered himself out of his seat. Using his body to shield the gesture, he made a quick palm-down flip with his hand. The copilot nodded almost imperceptibly to show he understood.

The pilot followed Phillipo as if drawn by an imaginary leash, as the bodyguard backed up into the cabin. “I want you to go lie facedown on the divan,” Phillipo said, keeping his gun pointed at Riordan's chest.

“Hell, I was hoping I could take a nap,” the pilot said. “That's real kind of you.”

Francesca had backed off the aisle to make room for the two men to pass. Phillipo asked her to get some plastic trash bags from under a front seat. Phillipo intended to use the bags to bind the pilot. With Riordan on ice he would only have to deal with the copilot.