Linda was right. Linda had always been right. And where the hell had she been last night? It was difficult enough getting through to Los Angeles – but he had managed it three times – and three times her phone had rung and nobody had picked up. It was just too bad. He had told her he would probably be phoning. The least she could have done was stay in.
He had promised her marriage – wasn’t that what she had been angling for? Wasn’t that what she wanted?
It just wasn’t good enough. She was playing games with him and he didn’t need that crap.
Louis Baptista slid into the seat beside him. Christ! Conversation he didn’t need, either.
‘Don’t panic – don’t panic—’ Louis’s voice was high-pitched and nervous – ‘we’re being hijacked – he’s got a gun – bombs. He’s with the pilot now.’
‘Whhaat?’
‘Nino. He’s mad – quite mad. What shall we do? What shall we do?’
* * *
Van Howard knew at once what was happening. As soon as Wendy pushed her way onto the flight deck – every drop of colour gone from her face – the dark boy behind her – he knew.
Every pilot had imagined himself in the situation a thousand times. They even used to give lessons on what to do at the airline he had worked for. Stay calm. Don’t panic. If it’s not possible to disarm the hijacker/hijackers, then go along with what they say. Reassure the passengers. Under no account put their lives at risk. Try and maintain radio contact with control. All of this flashed through Van’s mind before the terrified Wendy uttered a word.
‘He’s – he’s got a gun in my back,’ she gasped.
* * *
Al finished showering and called out, ‘You want to join me?’
‘No, thanks, I find showering in the middle of the sky absolutely crazy!’ Dallas sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed and sipped her Bloody Mary.
‘Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it,’ Al walked back into the bedroom knotting the cord of his bathrobe. He joined her on the bed and started to laugh.
‘What’s the matter?’ Dallas asked.
‘First time I ever shared a bed with a girl I haven’t given one to.’
‘Your English expressions are so cute!’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Another cute expression!’
‘Now look…’
She smiled at him, stopping him in his tracks.
‘I think…’ he said.
‘I think so too.’
He stared at her earnestly. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m as sure as I’ll ever be.’
He reached for her, and she moved towards him willingly.
‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ he whispered, shrugging off his bathrobe.
‘Me too,’ she whispered back, running her fingers lightly over his chest.
‘Christ!’ he muttered. ‘You want to see what I’ve got for you?’
‘I can see, I can see.’
‘Just a minute,’ he reached over to the panel surrounding the bed and pressed a few buttons.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Locking the door and turning off the intercom. Now nothing can disturb us.’
* * *
By the time Louis had garbled out a story that Paul understood, it was too late. Van Howard’s voice was booming out through the speaker system. ‘This is your captain speaking,’ he said calmly, as if he was just about to give them a weather and altitude report. ‘We seem to have a slight problem here.’
Cathy, busying herself with a tuna fish sandwich and a chocolate milkshake for Bernie, stopped to listen. What slight problem? It was a beautiful clear night, no turbulence, a short hop. What problem?
‘It seems we have a gentleman on board who would prefer us to land elsewhere. He has asked me most persuasively, and for the safety of all of us I feel that I must comply with his wishes.’
‘What the fuck?’ said Bernie, who had been only half listening. ‘Did I fuckin’ hear right?’
One of the journalists nodded nervously. ‘I think maybe we are being hijacked.’
‘Hijacked!’ Bernie boomed. ‘The fuck we are.’
‘There is absolutely no need for any kind of panic,’ Van’s voice continued. ‘We have a full tank of fuel, and I would like you all to move to the back section of the plane and sit together. Please do that now. Cathy – please organize this procedure.’
She couldn’t believe it was happening to her again. Two years previously she had been working a flight hijacked by three Arab guerillas. The passengers had panicked, and two of them had got shot. The plane had crash-landed in the desert, and there had followed two days of captive hell before they were rescued. The whole incident was a nightmare – the reason she had stopped working for a major airline.
‘Cathy,’ Van was repeating, as if he knew she would be rooted to the spot, ‘please move all the passengers to the back of the plane, see they are strapped in, and sit with them yourself. If you all cooperate, everything will be fine. Under no circumstances attempt to take matters into your own hands. I repeat – under no circumstances.
Automatically Cathy sprang into action. Remember the rules. Don’t panic. Appear calm and in control. Be reassuring but firm. ‘Come along, everyone,’ she said, ‘let’s make our way to the rear of the plane.’
Bernie and the two journalists were nearest the front. ‘Bring your drinks with you if you want,’ Cathy said. She could do with a drink herself. She took the female journalist by the arm. ‘Come along now.’
Bernie said, ‘Jeesus Cheerist! What the fuck’s happening?’
Cathy managed a wan smile. ‘Think of the publicity, Mr. Suntan.’
‘Who’s hijacking us, for Chrissake? Al will go fuckin’ nuts!’
‘I think it must be the young man who came aboard in the mechanic’s uniform. He seems to be the only one missing – he must be on the flight deck.’
‘Well, let’s rush him, for Chrissakes.’
‘No,’ said Cathy firmly. ‘If the captain says we should take no action, then we must obey him.’
‘The fuck we must!’ Bernie turned as if to head for the front of the plane.
Quickly Cathy blocked his path. ‘Mr. Suntan. We are in an emergency situation. We must obey the captain. To disregard him would be foolish.’
‘Aw – shit,’ grumbled Bernie. But he allowed himself to be herded with the others towards the back of the plane.
Cristina sat rigidly in her seat.
Cathy shook her by the shoulder. ‘Come along, miss,’ she said softly. She could see the girl was in shock. ‘There is nothing to worry about.’
‘He forced me,’ Cristina mumbled, ‘he blackmailed me.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Cathy, ‘come along now.’
Cristina allowed herself to be helped from her seat. ‘Louis isn’t talking to me,’ she said sadly, ‘Louis hates me.’
Paul was already standing in the aisle as Cathy encouraged her small group of passengers towards the back of the plane.
‘What can I do?’ he asked urgently. He knew about the previous experience Cathy had gone through, and considered her an expert on the subject.
She didn’t feel like an expert, but she did know that they all had to do what Van said. ‘Just stay calm,’ she replied, ‘and help everybody else to do the same.’
Evan, already seated at the back of the plane, was startled to suddenly be descended on by a whole group of people. He shut an obscene centrefold quickly and took off the earphones attached to his portable radio – the reason why he had not heard what was going on. Quickly his uncle brought him up to date.
‘Crikey!’ he exclaimed, quite excited by the whole prospect. And he bundled his magazines together and dumped them under his seat.
* * *
‘I’m going to tell you something,’ Al said softly. ‘All my life I’ve been fucking. This is what I call making love.’
‘I know,’ she whispered in reply.
They sprawled
across the bed together, naked, exploring each other’s bodies with their eyes, their hands, their fingers.
They had done no more than to stroke, to touch, to marvel. It was enough for the time being. In a way they were both nervous, neither of them wanted to rush things.
‘You do have the most marvellous, beautiful, untouched body I have ever seen,’ Al told her.
‘Untouched?’
‘Yeah. That’s the way I feel about you. Do you know what I mean?’
She nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the first time in her life she had felt like this. So peaceful, and warm, so soft and expectant. Climbing a mountain, slowly, lazily. Stopping to rest every so often. No rush to get to the peak.
* * *
‘What about Al?’ Bernie asked Paul. ‘The shit’ll fly when he finds out.’
‘I don’t think he’s going to find out,’ Paul replied, ‘not until we land anyway. He’s incommunicado. Doors locked. All speakers must be turned off. And you know his bedroom section is completely soundproofed from out here. There is no way we can reach him.’
‘Thank God for small mercies,’ Bernie snorted. ‘But somebody’s balls will get minced when we end up in some asshole communist dump. Cuba probably. How far away are we?’
Paul shrugged. ‘What makes you think Cuba?’
‘Isn’t that where all hijacked planes go?’
‘Cristina.’ Paul leaned in to talk to the girl. They had sat her next to Evan. ‘Do you know where this Nino character plans to take us?’
She was ashen-faced. ‘I don’t know,’ she mumbled.
‘But you were helping him, you must know,’ Louis spat.
‘I don’t. I don’t.’ Tears started to trickle silently down her cheeks.
‘Leave her alone,’ said Cathy. ‘Can’t you see she’s in shock.’
‘Look – if she can help us…’ Paul began.
He was interrupted by the crackle of the speaker.
‘I am talking on behalf of my people,’ Nino’s voice announced, ‘the oppressed, the sick, the poor. There are three bombs aboard this plane…’
‘Aw Jesus!’ exclaimed Bernie, ‘we’re dealin’ with a fuckin’ commie psycho.’
‘Three bombs that I can trigger off at any time. The captain has agreed to cooperate with me. I advise you for your well being to do the same. My organization – the P.A.C.P. – People Against Capitalistic Pigs – requires only money. We will land in a safe and secure place, and when the money is paid, you will be released. If you behave, you will not be hurt.’
The speaker shut off.
‘Money,’ muttered Bernie. ‘We’re the capitalistic pigs and they want the money. Assholes.’
* * *
‘I have to contact flight control,’ Van insisted. ‘I have to get air clearance.’
‘No. You will follow the course I have given you.’
‘But we could be in another plane’s flight path.’
‘It has all been checked beforehand,’ Nino intoned. ‘Just do as I tell you.’
‘Is it an airport you want me to land at?’
‘I’ll ask the questions. You follow my instructions.’
‘I have to know. I can’t just land this plane anywhere. We need certain conditions – a proper runway.’
‘You are a first-class pilot. I am sure you will manage.’
‘We’re flying blind without radio contact. You have taken us off the radar path – we’re flying blind.’
‘Follow the instructions I have given you.’
Van glanced in exasperation at Harry, and then turned around to his navigator and flight engineer. They both seemed quite calm. At least he had an experienced crew. But flying without radio contact, on a new flight path, in a strange country, at night, was dodgy to say the least.
‘Can you let the girl go back in the cabin with the others?’ Van asked. Wendy was huddled in a corner quite obviously terrified.
‘She stays with me,’ Nino said sharply. ‘If anyone doesn’t cooperate, she will be the first to get a bullet.’
* * *
Cathy peered anxiously out of the window. They had been flying for quite some time, long past the time they should have landed at São Paulo. Since the two speaker announcements there had been silence. She wondered how Van was coping. He was a good pilot, a professional to his fingertips. He would stay calm, she knew that. She had risked going to the galley and made everyone coffee, and she had brought a couple of bottles of brandy and some packets of biscuits back with her. It was getting cold, and she had pulled down blankets and pillows and told everyone to try and get some sleep.
Van would have been proud of her. She was very together and in control when she could so easily have lapsed into hysteria at the memory of the other time.
She thought about her long-haired musician and wondered what he would do when he heard.
São Paulo must have realized the plane had left its flight path long ago. Perhaps other planes had already been sent out to search for them. After all it was Al King’s plane, with the great superstar himself aboard. And Carlos Baptista’s son was with them, although from what she could make out nobody knew he was aboard. Anyway – a major search would be launched immediately.
It had begun to rain – little driblets of water were trickling down the windows. She hoped she was mistaken, but she thought she heard thunder. She hated flying through storms. A stewardess friend of hers had been killed in a plane struck by lightning.
‘Perhaps I should go up to the flight deck and ask if I can make them all coffee,’ she suggested.
‘I don’t think you should,’ warned Paul. ‘If he has a gun he may be getting jumpy. You busting in could set him off.’
‘You’re right. But I bet they sure could use a cup of coffee.’
* * *
The weather conditions were worsening. What had started out as light rain had turned into a thunderstorm.
As far as Van could ascertain they were flying over the interior of Brazil – probably somewhere over the Amazon, heading in the general direction of Peru. Fortunately they had plenty of fuel, but it wouldn’t last for ever.
‘How soon can we expect to land?’ Van asked. He was getting tired, the sleepless night had not helped.
‘I told you – don’t ask questions,’ Nino replied.
Harry said, ‘Weather conditions ahead are really bad. I suggest you tell us where and when we put this thing down.’
‘Shut up,’ snapped Nino. He had a blinding headache. If they read and studied the instructions he had given them, they would know where to land. It puzzled him that they kept on asking questions – he didn’t know. The organization had told him it was a disused airport somewhere – it was all in the instructions. When they landed, other members of the organization would be waiting to take over. Nino would be flown out of there, back to Rio, where he had a new name and a new apartment waiting.
‘Just follow the instructions,’ he said grimly.
‘Let’s have the rest of them then,’ snapped the navigator.
‘You’ve got them.’
‘Up to here I have, there must be another page.’ He held up the paper to Nino.
‘I gave you both pages.’
‘Only one.’
‘Both!’ screamed Nino, suddenly panicky. The instructions – written out in navigational terms by a former airline pilot were on two sheets of white paper. He was sure he had handed them both over.
Van and Harry exchanged glances. They sensed a crisis.
‘Look for it, you fool – perhaps you dropped it,’ Nino raged.
‘You look for it,’ shouted the navigator, ‘I never bloody had it.’
‘Is this some trick?’ screamed Nino, and he pulled out his gun.
At that precise moment the plane hit an air pocket and plummeted several feet. It was enough to throw Nino off balance, enough to precipitate his trigger finger, and the gun went off, the bullet lodging firmly in Van Howard’s right shoulder.
&nbs
p; Chapter Sixty-Three
Cody was angered by Bernie Suntan’s phone call. Dallas regrets she will not be able to make the studio until Monday. How on earth had Dallas known that the studio required her? For all she knew, she was still out on her ear. And why had she not picked up a phone and spoken to him herself? Too cowardly, no doubt. Frightened of the major blast she would get from him. And he was angry. His anger overshadowed the relief he felt at the fact that she was all right. She knew how concerned he must have been. How could she just vanish without so much as a word? He had spent a sleepless night imagining her raped or murdered or something equally horrific. Instead she had been unconcernedly shacked up with Al King. And now she was hopping off for a quick weekend in South America. Lew Margolis would love that. And he was the one stuck with telling him.
In fact Lew took the news surprisingly calmly. ‘Oh’ was all he said. A resigned and weary ‘Oh.’
‘She’ll be on the set bright and early Monday morning,’ Cody assured him.
‘Yes,’ replied Lew vaguely.
Cody had expected fireworks. All he got was a damp squib. He was puzzled. Anyway – at least she was back on the series, that was the main thing. He just hoped that she wasn’t going to turn up stoned on Monday morning, she had been in bad shape when she had set off for Palm Springs. He sighed. Well, of course he had known the first time he set eyes on her that it wasn’t going to be an easy ride. But he had expected the traumas and temperaments when she had made it – not on the way there.
Thank God he was emotionally untangled. Getting involved in that way was suicide time. It was good it had been so brief.
Carol had worked as far as restoring his ego was concerned. But she had become too much of a good thing – and he had moved out and taken a short lease on a furnished house on Miller Drive. Nothing spectacular, but it would do to be going on with.
His business was going well. Apart from his English comedy actor signing for a major movie, he had just completed a very lucrative deal for his young stud actor to make a film in England. If things were sorted out with Dallas, and everything seemed to be going smoothly, then he saw no reason why he couldn’t make a quick trip to Europe. He had never been there, it would be an experience.