30
AN IMPROBABLE THEORY
On board a Gulfstream Six. Altitude 7,300 feet. Airspeed 376 knots. Seventy-three nautical miles west-north-west of New Orleans, Louisiana
Jana put her fingers into her hair. “So how are we supposed to narrow it down?”
Bill said, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“Where?” Jana screamed. “Where is he going to hit?”
“That’s anyone’s guess,” Knuckles said. “Looking at it on the map, the fig orchards run for miles. He could hit anywhere along there.”
“We’ve got to find out, and right now. We can’t guess! We have to stop him.”
Cade unbuckled his seatbelt and placed his hands in hers.
“Jana, calm down. We’re all under a lot of stress here.”
Jana’s chest heaved in an effort to vacuum in enough oxygen, and her face began to pale. “And that’s not all,” she said.
