Chapter 33

The wind is whistling eerily through the bullet holes in the glass windows. But I realize that no oxygen masks have fallen out of the ceiling.

Come to think of it, I have no idea if small jets like this even have that capability – but then I decide they must. Billionaires are even more invested in keeping themselves alive than airlines are.

“How come we can still breathe?” I call out.

“We’re flying relatively low. We can’t go too high or we’ll depressurize,” Mike shouts from the cockpit.

“Just as long as you can get us to the Channel,” Grant yells back. “How long till we’re there?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Can’t we go any faster?”

Mike looks back over his shoulder in irritation. “Ten minutes is pedal to the medal, bud! We’re flying full throttle here!”

Grant walks up to the cockpit. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What, besides flee the French authorities and get myself shot at?”

“Five million should buy me that and more,” Grant retorts.

“You’re going to milk that for all it’s worth, aren’t you.”

“Y