The fuel was gone. His Challenger 350 had bled out in mere minutes.

He could just barely buy that something might go wrong with one of the engines. But both of them at once? Something was seriously bent about this flight emergency. There was nothing within normal range about it.

Somehow, he had to radio in a Mayday. But there was no way he could release the stick with even one hand in order to use the radio. Unless... He glanced sideways at the passenger in the copilot seat. Her torso quivered, and her gaze was fixed straight ahead, but at least she wasn’t hysterical.

“Any chance you know how to operate a two-way radio?”

“Y-yes. W-we use one in the hospital for medevac emergencies.”

“Put out a distress call. Frequency, one-two-one-point-five.”

She did as he had asked. She performed the Mayday drill once...twice...three times. Dead air met every attempt. A spasm visibly gripped her throat. “The radio is dead.”

Kent’s jaw clenched. “This has to be sabotage, pure and simple,” he muttered. But who? Why? Did someone want to kill one of his passengers badly enough to take the life of everyone aboard?