He was brooding about it, sipping his second scotch, when the silver-haired co-pilot came out of the cockpit and went over to talk to Jack, who stood a few feet away talking to Mateo.

As the co-pilot walked away, Gage joined them. “What’s going on?”

“It appears we’ve got a little mechanical problem,” Jack said, taking a swallow of his drink.

Gage thought of the bullets that had pinged off the landing gear. “What kind of problem?”

“When the metal stairs hit the wing, they damaged the leading edge slats. Those are the lift flaps that allow the wings to operate at a higher angle of attack on landing.”

“Which means?”

“Which means they maximize lift and drag so the plane can slow down and come to a stop before it reaches the end of the runway.”

“I think I’m beginning to get the picture. If the plane can’t slow down fast enough, it goes off the end of the pavement.”

Jack lifted his scotch in salute. “Buy the man another drink.”

Gage scoffed. “As appealing as that sounds right now, I don’t think getting drunk when we’re looking at a possible plane crash is a good idea.”

“Probably not,” Jack said and upended his scotch.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“The captain will radio the tower and fill them in, make arrangements to land on the longest runway possible. On approach, he’ll lower the plane’s pitch and power. Meanwhile, the rest of us will hope and pray like hell we stop before we reach the end of the concrete.”

Gage looked around the luxurious cabin. Everyone had finally relaxed. “Don’t tell the others. No use worrying them before it’s time.”

Jack nodded.

Gage returned to his seat, and so did Jack. The rest of the trip was uneventful. As they neared their destination, the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. We’re starting our approach to Denver.”

Abby returned and sat down beside him, buckled herself into the seat. “Boy, the trip went by fast.”

Gage nodded.

But it was the longest flight he could ever recall.

* * *

Abby listened to the captain’s voice with growing trepidation. He was explaining the problem with the flaps and telling them to prepare for a very rough landing. She turned to Gage, who sat beside her on the divan.

“We’re . . . we’re having mechanical trouble?”

“The stairs hit the wing when we accelerated, damaging the flaps on one side. It makes landing a lot more difficult, but not impossible. Let’s make sure everyone is as secure as they can be, get them off the divan into more stable seats—the ones at the dining or conference table look the best.”

Abby and Gage made a sweep of the cabin, making sure everyone was secure and solidly belted in, then strapped themselves into two of the big dining chairs.