A single amber light began to pulse on the back wall of the cockpit.

It was the maintenance access indicator, a panel located near the floor behind the observer’s seat.

A low, clicking sound began to come from behind the plastic casing.

I leaned down to look at the panel.

The door to the avionics bay beneath our feet was unlatched, swinging open an inch with every tilt of the aircraft.

A faint, blue light was pulsing from the dark hole beneath the deck.

I knelt on the damp carpet and reached for the metal latch of the avionics hatch.

The cold aluminum stung my fingertips.

The door swung back another inch, revealing a vertical ladder leading down into the dark belly of the plane.

“Grace, what is that?” Gerald asked, his voice cracking over the rumble of the engines.

“Stay focused on the screen, Gerald,” I said.

I leaned over the opening, the scent of hot plastic and ozone hitting my nose.

A bundle of thick wires had been sliced clean through, their copper ends sparking against the metal frame.