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Read a slightly abridged story by Robert L. Fish.

HIJACK

Five o'clock on a late summer afternoon, and the plane - a 727 tri-jet - at 28 000 feet approaching the Tennessee River Valley on a south-southwestern heading from Kennedy in New York to New Orleans.

A light flashed on the captain's intercom panel. The captain leaned over and pressed a button.

‘Yes?’

‘Captain, this is Ńlarisse. We've got trouble.’

‘Trouble?’

‘A passenger is locked in the washroom with Milly. It's hijacking.’

The radioman was already at work, calling the New Orleans tower. The captain's face was stiff. He spoke into the microphone.

‘Clarisse?’

‘Yes, Captain?’

‘Put our OUT OF ORDER sign on the washroom door. Is Milly still all right?’

‘Yes, sir. Wait a second - she's saying something’ - there was a pause.

‘Hello, Captain. She says he wants the plane diverted to Jacksonwille. To refuel.’

‘Where does he want to go? We have more than enough fuel for Cuba. Better have Milly remind him this isn't a 747, however.’

‘Yes, sir. She didn't say anything else.’

‘He is on the seat chart as a Charles Wagner from Hartford. He was in seat sixteen C, on the aisle, I served him lunch when we left Kennedy...’

‘What did he look like?’

Clarisse sounded unsure of herself. ‘Like... like anybody, I guess. Middle thirties, hair a little long but getting thin...’

‘How much did he have to drink?’

‘Just a beer. I'm sure he wasn't drunk. What should I do?’

‘Nothing... And let me know if...’

The radioman spoke. ‘New Orleans tower. I've already identified.’

‘Mayday here,’ the captain said into the microphone. ‘We've got a hijacker on board.’

‘What condition?’

‘He has one of our stewardesses locked in a washroom. Armed.’

‘Where does he want to go?’

‘So far, just to JAX. For refueling, he says.’

‘Stand by’, said the voice. ‘I'll contact security and be back.’

In a few minutes a different voice was on the radio.

‘Captain Littlejohn? This is Security, New Orleans. You may change course to Jacksonwille.’

Clarisse's voice came back.

‘Captain?’

‘Yes?’

‘He wants money. A ransom for the passengers and the plane. He wants it waiting for him when we get there. Otherwise, he says he'll take Milly first and then blow up the plane.’

‘How much ransom?’

‘A... a quarter of a million dollars.’

Captain Littlejohn picked up his microphone.

‘New Orleans Security? Do you still read me?’

A different voice answered. ‘This is JAX. We read you loud and clear.’

‘The hijacker wants a quarter of a million of dollars.’

‘We heard. What else does he want?’

‘Yes, sir. Here's what he wants. The money in an overnight bag, nothing smaller than fifties, nothing bigger than hundreds, in the twenty-five-thousand dollar bundles. He wants the plane to land at the end of runway 725 at Jacksonwille, as far from the terminal as possible... He doesn't want anyone to come here. He says the passengers can get off. The money will be delivered, but no one can enter the plane. And he wants... two parachutes... That's all. So far. He says further instructions will be given when we're on the ground. We'll want to be cleared for landing on 725 regardless of wind direction.’



‘Roger.’

‘And what about the money he wants?’

‘It'll be there. As well as the parachutes.’

‘Good,’ Captain Littlejohn said.

The mike was switched off, attention was given to flying the plane. The plane banked smoothly into the air corridor. The plane began losing altitude. The co-pilot immediately began speaking with the tower. Captain took over the task of informing the passengers. He pressed the button.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. Due to adverse weather conditions, we are forced to make our landing at the Jacksonwille, Florida, Airport. A company representative on the ground will explain the delay and arrange any necessary transportation. We regret this inconvenience. Now please, fasten your seat belts, bring your seats to the vertical position and observe the NO SMOKING – sign’…

The last passenger left the plane. Two men went out of the bus. One brought a small parachute in one hand and an overnight bag in the other; the second man carried a bigger parachute.

They climbed the steps, placed their loads on the floor of the plane without entering and departed.

Captain Littlejohn raised his microphone.

‘Clarisse ?’

‘Yes, Captain?’ ‘Where do you go from here?’

‘Captain he says first to head toward Miami. He wants you to maintain minimum flying speed, he says two hundred knots will do, and to stay at two thousand feet altitude. And he wants the rear passengers entrance door left locked from the outside...’

The plane took off. Littlejohn leveled off, following the coast a mile off-shore, then he put the plane into a bank.

Clarisse came back on, nervous.

‘Captain, he wants us to get up into the cockpit before he jumps, doesn’t want us to see...’

At last there was a knock on the door. It opened and two very nervous stewardesses came into the cockpit, shutting the door behind them.

‘Naples coming up,’ the radioman said.

The co-pilot went into the empty corridor of the plane. He walked to the other end of the plane and back into the cockpit and the door.

‘All clear.’

Captain Littlejohn switched off the microphone, ‘Well, children,’ he said, ‘it’s been a long day. Let's get some rest.’

‘Fifty thousand each,’ the captain said softly.

‘Not bad for a few hours work, plus a little careful planning.’

‘I ought to get more,’ Milly said. ‘Five long hours in a tiny room with a dead man.’

‘You?’ Clarisse said. ‘What about me? I had to push him out of the door.’

‘I had to kill him,’ the radioman said. The co-pilot was paying no attention to the complaints. He was putting his share in his attache case.

‘Charles Wagner...’ he said to none in particular.’ ‘The hard-luck guy who went to the john at the wrong time. I wonder what he did for a living.’


Date: 2016-01-03; view: 2898


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