Flight into Darkness (Flight Trilogy, Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

group—appearing to be a legitimate employee in good standing with the airline—to slip through the cracks.
    He had another thought. With the number of airline pilots entering alcohol and drug rehabilitation programs at an all time high, and bankruptcies and divorces among airline employees raging, ruling out a pilot-assisted suicide was not completely out of the question.
    Without warning, his mind buzzed in a completely different direction.
    Oh my God !
    He glanced down at Keri, her eyes still glued to the TV screen. Beads of sweat popped from the pores on his forehead and underarms. Clamminess washed over him.
    He eased away from Keri. “I need to take a shower.”
    “Okay.” She paused, apparently alarmed by his sudden move. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah, I just need to get away from this.” He left the den and hurried to the bathroom, pushing back the urge to vomit. Closing the door, he braced himself on the vanity. Covered in a clammy sweat, his legs collapsed beneath him. He eased over to the toilet, closed the lid and sat.
    Details from his nightmare ambushed him: Rex; the creepy-hooded, novel-reading copilot; the attackers; the blood. Dizziness danced in his head to the ringing of a chorus of cicadas spinning him to the horrid conclusion.
    It was Rex . He was flying that trip — my trip . If he had not trip traded with me , I would be dead … not Rex .

CHAPTER 4
    Istanbul , Turkey
    Ten months later — Sunday , May 25 , 2003
    Samael Janus, a tall, broad-shouldered albino man, stepped onto the balcony of his third-story, four-star, boutique hotel, the Hotel Daphnis, and peered down at the shimmering, blue waters of the Golden Horn River. The afternoon sun mirrored sharp flashes of light off the water’s surface causing him to squint. His prescription, transition lenses were worthless shields against the dancing diamonds of light. He quickly pulled his wrappers from his pocket and placed them over the prescription lenses.
    Much better .
    The geriatric-looking wrappers shielded his sensitive eyes and were excellent for hiding the uncontrollable and embarrassing rhythmic movement of his eyeballs. In addition to his heightened sensitivity to light, he’d been plagued since birth with nystagmus (a pendular quivering of the eyes) and a mild case of achromatopsia (inability to see color).
    With his bald head shielded beneath a hooded cloak, the moon-faced albino gripped the balcony railing with both hands, closed his eyes, and lifted his head toward the heavens. His mind journeyed into the distant past— his past. As he remembered, a smile spread across his face.
    On that glorious day in 1453, under the blood-red moon of a partial eclipse, the words of the prophets rang true when Constantinople—along with its allegiance to Christendom—fell under the ruthless hand of the Ottoman warrior, Mehmet the Conqueror. It marked the beginning of the greatest period of growth for the Ottoman Empire.
    A rush of adrenalin burst through his veins. His chest tightened and his white skin tingled with excitement as his time-traveling mind visualized the siege of the city. The screams of slaughtered and tortured Christians echoed in the darkness as blood ran through the streets of the city. Ottoman soldiers and Janissaries massacred men and women, young and old, by the blade of the scimitar. No one was spared. Married women and girls committed suicide to avoid being savagely raped. Men chose to die defending their families to avoid being taken as slaves.
    After the killing came the gathering of slaves. The most beautiful women would be added to the harems of sultans. The strongest, young boys would be trained as Janissary warriors. The less fortunate, fair and delicate lads were given over to the soldiers to appease their sexual appetites. The adult men would be sold in the slave markets or chained to the oars of Muslim warships.
    From his lofty perch over the Golden Horn, Samael took in the panoramic view and the activities