Bloodless (Aloysius Pendergast #20)(2)

Scotty got on the intercom and told the passengers that the plane was experiencing a minor mechanical problem, there was no need for concern, and that they would be landing in an hour or so. Meanwhile, in the back of the plane, the hijacker, Dan Cooper, had been chain-smoking. He offered a cigarette to Schaffner, who took it to calm her nerves, even though she had given up smoking some time before.

Outside, a storm was developing. Soon it began to rain.

The airline contacted the Seattle National Bank, where it had done business. The bank was glad to help. It had, in fact, a store of money ready for just such a purpose: a cache of twenty-dollar bills that had been microfilmed and each serial number recorded, in case of a heist or robbery. Ten thousand twenty-dollar bills, banded in bricks of fifty, were stuffed into a satchel with a drawstring and delivered to the FBI. It weighed about twenty pounds.

The parachutes were obtained from a jump center east of the airport: two front or reserve chutes, and two rear or main parachutes. As Cooper had insisted, they were civilian parachutes, not military. They, too, were given to the FBI.

Meanwhile, the plane continued to circle Sea-Tac. Tina, the other stewardess, moved up and down the aisle, reassuring passengers. Dan Cooper explained to Schaffner how things were going to work.

“After the plane lands,” he said, “I want you to go out and get the money and bring it back.”

“What if it’s too heavy?”

“It won’t be. You’ll manage. Then,” he continued, “you’ll get the parachutes and bring them on board.” He pulled a bottle of Benzedrine pills from his pocket. “Take these to the cockpit in case the crew gets sleepy during the next flight.”

She asked if he was hijacking the plane to Cuba, at the time the most common destination for skyjackings.

“No,” he said. “Not Cuba. Someplace you’ll like.”

She asked him why he was hijacking the plane. Did he bear a grudge against Northwest?

“I don’t have a grudge against your airline, miss,” he said. “I just have a grudge.”

On the ground, the airport had been closed and all outgoing flights canceled. Incoming flights were either diverted or put into a holding pattern. Shortly after five, ground control radioed the plane and said the money and parachutes had been assembled and were in a car at the far end of a runway, as instructed.

The pilots brought the 727 in to land and taxied, as per the hijacker’s instructions, to a remote section of runway. It was now dark and the rain persisted, accompanied by occasional flashes of lightning. The area had been illuminated with banks of floodlights.

The plane came to a halt. “Go get the money,” Cooper told Schaffner.

Schaffner walked down the aisle to the exit door and descended the stairs, walking in wobbly high heels to the waiting vehicle. An FBI agent took the money from the trunk and handed it to her. Schaffner walked back to the plane, mounted the stairs, and carried the sack back to Cooper. He opened it, looked inside, grabbed a few bricks and took them out.

“For you,” he said.

Schaffner was surprised. “Sorry, sir. No tips. Northwest Orient policy.”

He seemed to smile faintly. “All right. Go get the parachutes.”

Schaffner once again descended the stairs and, making two more trips, brought Cooper the four parachutes.

He leaned toward her. “Now, this is the important part, Flo. Listen carefully. It’s time for the captain to tell everyone on board that the plane has been hijacked. The hijacker has a bomb. He is to order everyone off the plane. They’re to go straight out—not open the overhead compartments, not take their carry-on luggage or anything else they brought on board. If these instructions are not followed to the letter, or if a hero tries to come back and interfere with me, I’ll detonate the bomb. Please relay that to the captain. Only the pilot, copilot, and you are to remain on board.”

“Yes, sir.” Schaffner got up, went to the cockpit, and relayed the demand. A moment later the captain got on the intercom.

“Listen carefully, and please remain calm,” Scotty’s neutral voice came over the speakers. “There is a hijacker on this plane with a bomb.”

There was a scattering of expostulations, gasps, a scream or two.

“Do not panic. All passengers are to deplane immediately. Do not open the overhead bins. Do not take any carry-on luggage with you. You are to deplane empty-handed.”

More gasps, murmurs.

“Commence deplaning now. Walk, don’t run.”

The passengers rose up en masse, in a babble of confusion and raised voices, and surged toward the forward stairs. Several passengers reached for the overhead compartments, and one managed to get his open.

Seeing this, Cooper rose from his seat and held up his attaché case, brandishing it like a weapon. “You!” he screamed, suddenly enraged, gesturing at the offending passenger. “Get back! I’ve got a bomb! I’m going to set it off if you don’t follow instructions!”

The passenger, an older man, backed up, face full of terror, amid the yells and rebukes of the passengers around him. Someone gave him a shove forward; he abandoned the open bin and was pushed along with everyone else as they stumbled off the plane. In a few minutes, the cabin was empty, with the exception of Schaffner and Tina.

“You get off, too,” Cooper said to Tina. “And tell the flight engineer to board.” Then he grabbed the cabin phone. “How much longer for refueling?” he yelled into it.