"Nance, John J. - The Last Hostage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nance John J)

"That does it. When I get to a phone in Phoenix, sweetheart, you're
toast!"

"Why wait?" Annette said as sweetly as she could manage. "There's a
phone in your armrest. In the meantime, if you undo that seatbelt before
the light's out, the first officer will come back with a set of '10
plastic handcuffs and we'll have the FBI meet you in Phoenix.
Understand?"

Annette ignored the man's obscene retort and walked back to the first
class galley, pulling the curtain behind her before turning off the
smile and clenching her fists in the privacy of the small cubicle. There
was no point in bothering Ken Wolfe with the latest installment of the
man's temper tantrums. In little more than an hour the boor would be off
the airplane anyway, and then she could spend her ground time writing a
report to cover herself when the inevitable "fire-the-bitch-or-else"
letter arrived in AirBridge headquarters.

"Did you feel that?"

Ken Wolfe's face was a mask of concern as he looked at his copilot.

"What?"

"That vibration? It's faint, but repetitious."

David cocked his head and closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to
discern what the captain was sensing amid all the normal vibrations of a
jetliner in flight. His eyes came open just as quickly.

"I ... don't feel anything unusual, but ..."

"You may not be attuned to that particular range of vibration," Ken
offered.

"Maybe not. Was it a ratcheting?"

Ken nodded. "Yes, but very faint. It happens every few seconds. There!
Feel that?"

David looked even more concerned than before. "I don't.., well,

maybe."

"In the background," Ken prompted, "a kind of distant grinding or
growling, coming and going."

"Yes! I do feel it," David replied.

Wolfe nodded as he leaned over the center console to study the engine