He removed the Gutenberg from its sturdy container, tore off the shrink-wrap, and wrapped the tome in a UCLA sweatshirt he stole from another bag. He was tempted to leave a note with his address and a promise to replace the purloined garment, but he thought better of making too many promises. He already owed someone a tiger shark, for goodness’ sake.

Returning to the trapdoor, he inspected it once more for possible means of escape. There appeared to be none. Were there any other ways out? A quick glimpse around his surroundings revealed nothing, except for the hatch that led outside, the one the baggage crew used. But that wouldn’t help. He couldn’t exactly climb outside the airplane back to his seat. This wasn’t a Jerry Bruckheimer movie, after all.

Still, he stared at the hatch.

A thought.

He scrabbled over bags, grabbed the release handle, and pulled it.

Thad felt a tap on his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I need you to check out a problem in baggage.” It was Janice. The concern on her face seemed genuine.

“What’s going on?”

“Captain just alerted me that the door down there is open.”

“The door . . . ?”

“The hatch.”

“But how could that be open?”

Janice smiled, a smile that turned her concern to impatience. “That’s why I need you to go down there,” she said.

Thad walked toward the back of the plane, ignoring a number of passengers who asked for his assistance as he passed.

“What’s going on?” one of the attendants inquired as Thad entered the safety zone behind the rear curtain.

“Janice thinks someone opened the hatch down below,” Thad said, trying to make the story sound as absurd as possible.

“Captain says it’s open,” Janice said.

“Oh.”

“Can you let me down there?” Thad asked.

“Sure,” the other attendant said, chuckling. It was a fool’s errand, an undesirable job for whoever happened to be at the bottom of the flight-attendant caste system.

The floor panel was removed, and the other attendants left to go pass out more pillows and drinks. “Just let us know when you’re done in here,” the last attendant said, slipping out the curtain.

Thad slid feetfirst into the hole, using his feet to find the ladder indentations in the wall of the cargo hold. He climbed down and removed a small flashlight from his pocket, shining the tiny beam around the entire area.

It was a mess. What had happened down here?

He pointed the beam toward the hatch, which appeared to be closed. Over the grumble of the engines he could hear a series of beeps, an indicator that the release handle had come unfastened. Maybe the turbulence had been severe enough to jar it loose.