‘Feli? Hello? What’s wrong? You still on the line?’ The connection had died. And he got no more response. With that echo of Feli’s tortured scream still in his ears, cutting off abruptly when the connection ended, Mats finally hung up and desperately wished for something to drink.
Not water, but something higher-proof. Something to lessen the shock. Because his own psychological crash was starting to look even more imminent than that of this aircraft. Addiction patients had often told him about that fog of obliviousness falling over them when the rush kicks in. Up here, with the altitude, he’d need a lot less alcohol in the blood to create such a condition.
Yet he needed to keep a clear head, of course he did.
Just what was going on?
He tried reaching Feli once again, but the phone only rang.
Meanwhile the cruel realisation mounted inside him that he had no options. The kidnappers were deadly serious. They were holding Nele, and now Feli appeared to be in danger as well. His first desperate attempt to gain a sense of the perpetrators, and thus their motive, had led him nowhere. Whoever was planning this madness was several steps ahead of him. Within the few hours left, it was completely impossible for him to accomplish anything else from this aeroplane than exactly what the blackmailer wanted from him: destroying a patient mentally, all in order to send himself and hundreds of innocent people to their deaths.
‘Gah!’
Mats pressed his hands over his mouth and screamed in despair. Then he rubbed at his throbbing temples and recalled that he’d meant to grab his carry-on from economy so he could finally take something for his headache.
Or, first watch the video to the end?
On channel 13/10, from the ninth minute. He still didn’t know what could be so volatile that it would put Kaja Claussen into September-eleventh mode.
No, first the drugs.
As much as Mats needed to know more, his head was also ready to explode, and he knew that if he didn’t take something right away, soon he wouldn’t be capable of a single clear thought. His stomach had calmed down, at least. His fear of flying had dialled back its symptoms.
Apparently there was evolution for psychological stress. Darwinism for agony. The most severe pains asserted themselves and gobbled up the weaker ones.
So Mats didn’t need to combat his fear of flying for the moment. Quite the opposite: the fear of losing his daughter was driving his mind to perform at its maximum, spurred on as well by his concern for Feli and his bad conscience about dragging her into this madness.
Mats opened the door of the Sky Suite to make his way to seat 47F.
And nearly ran into Kaja.