"You mean you needed mind reading to deduce that the world's number-one mercenary going to the most dangerous Dark City in the world couldn't possibly be going there to fix cars and enjoy the scenery?" Schiller asked in return.
Deathstroke really had no way to answer that, so he changed the subject a little stiffly. "We need to go take a look by the sea. If a plane really did make an emergency landing on the water, we have to get there immediately to help with the rescue."
"Do you know the exact model of the plane he was on?"
"It should be a wide-body Boeing 787," Deathstroke said after a pause. "The same as the one that ditched on the sea before."
"The odds of it making an emergency landing at sea aren't high."
"How do you know?"
To avoid the troops patrolling the streets, the two of them entered a dark alley. There was a food cart there, and no one happened to be around, so they hid beside the cart's awning.
"First of all, it's extremely difficult for that kind of wide-body airliner to ditch at sea. The demands on the pilot are too high. Second, a large plane carries a lot of fuel. Rather than landing on the complicated waters of the Red Sea, it would be better to keep flying inland and make an emergency landing in the desert."
Deathstroke relaxed slightly, then said, "What are the chances of landing smoothly in Hurghada?"
"High, of course. Otherwise, the two of us wouldn't need to come to Hurghada."
Only then did Deathstroke react. He really had been so overwhelmed by the bad news that he had lost his head. He should have thought long ago that the plane could make an emergency landing in the desert.