The Matter of the Deserted Airliner

by Levi, Steve;

  It was only then she saw the reporters start to tumble out of cars on F Street and start to clog the 9th Avenue corner.

  Chapter 36

  It was probably the first press conference in history where no one showed up. With hindsight it was to be expected. The only press people not chasing Ayanna around town were secretaries and salespeople. They didn’t do hard news. They did a nine-to-five. Everyone else was playing gumshoe.

  The lack of press didn’t bother the Director of Homeland Security for Alaska, Anchorage Office. As a matter of fact, he liked it better than way. He could use his own people to film the press conference, take nothing but friendly questions from the crowd of family members who were concerned about the safety of their loved ones and then splice the tape into department-friendly public affairs spots which his staff would personally deliver to the radio and television stations. It was canned. It was perfect. It was exactly what news should be if you were with Homeland Security.

  Standing as if he were Richard Burton about to give an Academy Award winning performance – except Burton never won an Academy Award though he was nominated seven times – Henry Harrison looked every inch a Richard Burton. He had the perfect visage for a United States Senator or, at the very least, a Governor. With a mesomorphic six-foottwo frame topped with salt-and-pepper hair, he was the prototypic politician. Even if he wasn’t, his staff and the video camera would make him seem so. And they were very good at this job.

  “I have a few announcements,” he said, pleased his sonorous voice quieted the small but milling crowd so quickly. This was going to be a good video clip for the news – all channels and FOX. Maybe even CNN? “As quickly as possible I’d like to give you an update of what has happened to this point.”

  Someone started to speak but Harrison raised his hand in a casual gesture working magic in silencing the questioner. “As I’m sure you can understand we are midway in this matter and I can only tell you what will not endanger your loved ones. I would also ask you not to speak to the press until this is over. We have to assume the kidnappers are watching the news and we don’t want to give them anything they can use to aggravate an already dangerous situation.”

  This was true but it was like locking the barn after the horse had been stolen. Everyone who had wanted to talk to the press already had and there was no way he could keep anyone else from talking to the press after his conference. The comment was for show, not for go.

  The room was deathly silent.

  Harrison turned his good side to the camera. “For those who did not hear me earlier, my name is Henry Harrison, just like the former President, and I am the Director of Homeland Security for Alaska. At the present time, though both I and you are loath to do it, we are paying the ransom demands for the kidnappers.”

  He smiled inwardly as he said the words “I and you.” It made him one with the audience. It would be a great sound bite on the evening news.

  “Our first obligation is to the living. We will sort out the financial responsibility later. What I can tell you is the kidnappers have asked the ransom be made in four payments. The first payment was made yesterday and it was picked up successfully. As we are speaking the second payment is being made. We do not expect any difficulties as we are following the instructions of the kidnappers to the letter.”

  He paused for a moment. Then he repeated and emphasized the last three words, “to the letter.”

  It was pure theater and he loved it. He raised his hands and spread them, a practiced gesture which made him Moses-like. “I will be more than pleased to answer any questions which you may have as long as the answers do not pose a threat to the hostages. Yes, Ma’am.” He pointed to an older woman in the front.

  “How much longer is this going to last? Do we know the people are all right?”

  “Did everyone hear the question?” He looked over the crowd and no one yelled for the questions to be repeated. “The kidnappers have indicated they want everything done within two days, 48 hours. We have met their timetable so far. I am hopeful we will be out of this jungle within a matter of hours.” He paused for a moment and then, dramatically, leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “As far as I know, Ma’am, there has been no trouble with the hostages and we are all praying for their safe return.”

  This was basically a lie. No one had heard from the hostages. Or, for that matter, from the extortionists about the fate of the hostages. It was not going to make Henry Harrison any friends by telling the relatives the truth.

  So he lied.

  He didn’t look at it as a lie.

  He looked at it as pragmatism.

  Or politics.

  Either term would have been correct. Both were lid holders, something to hold over the simmering pot until the heat went away. Until the hostages were freed, he was the man on the hot seat. Then he wanted to be the man in the limelight.

  A man from the back yelled, “I’ve heard we’re going to have to pay those slime balls $25 million!” There were some very unpleasant murmurs from the crowd.

  “It is true, sir.” Harrison craned his neck majestically as if he straining to hear the voice. “Unfortunately it is true. As I mentioned before, we are paying because we want the hostages back alive. When they are safe, then we’ll see about getting our money back.”

  “I don’t have $25 million,” snapped a voice from the center of the crowd. “Neither does my mother. You are going to have a hard time getting $25 million out of me.” There was general approval among the family members.

  Harrison smiled like a Dutch uncle. “Not to worry. We’re not going to ask you to re-pay the ransom. Who actually pays the $25 million will be debated between the City of Anchorage, State of Alaska, Anchorage International Airport, Unicorn Airlines, the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport and the insurance companies of all parties I just mentioned. In the unlikely event they cannot pay, the Office of Homeland Security will handle the matter. All we want from you are your prayers and cooperation until this matter is resolved.”

  He loved this last line. It just came to him. Was he good or what? The only thing he left out was the American flag. He couldn’t use the flag yet because he didn’t know if the extortionists were terrorist or not. If they were Muslim they were terrorists. Or skinheads. Until he knew for sure he had to be careful not to wave the flag. Then again, just let one hint drop they wore turbans and he planned to flap the flag from every flagpole in the 49th state.

  There was a moment of silence and Harrison chose this moment to end the conference. He had enough footage with good questions. Now he needed a gem of a wrap-up, which, as it happened, he had been working on for hours – right down to the facial twitches and warble in his voice.

  “It is truly sad day in the annuals of our nation when innocent Americans can be snatched off American airlines in America. Once this has been peacefully resolved,” he leaned forward, toward the camera with a sincere look in his eye and a waver in his voice, “the Office of Homeland Security is going to make absolutely certain this never happens again. The perpetrators will be chased all over the planet if necessary. They can run but they cannot hide.” He paused again. This time, not for emphasis, but to give a second of dead air on the video tape to make the next sentence the noteworthy sound bite of the conference. “In civilized societies there is no room for terrorism, no excuse for kidnapping and no reason to put innocent lives at risk anywhere in the world.”

  He gave another second of dead air to the video.

  “Thank you and God bless.”

  The camera snapped off the Harrison was out of the room as if he had been sent on a mission by God.

  Chapter 37

  Ayanna’s first clue something was happening was when the growing gaggle of news reporters started yelling and pointing behind her. Even though she was running as fast as she could she dared a quick look behind her. Just as she half-turned, an ultralight hit the ground and rolled to a California stop beside the handkerchief and the bag of gems she had just left o
n the Park Strip. In the next instant the ultralight was reaching for the sky. The craft was fifteen feet above Ayanna when it passed overhead – and the pilot gave her a goodbye wave.

  Chapter 38

  “You are not going to believe what I just saw,” said the pilot of the Alaska State Trooper chopper as he looked out his side window. He had been on patrol in the downtown area for the past hour, following the elusive Ayanna as she was sent from pillar to post by the extortionists. He had always known where she was. Once she had been separated from the gems, he was to watch the spot like an eagle eye in the sky.

  What he had not expected was an ultralight.

  “I’ve got a pickup on the package,” he said into the microphone as he banked toward the departing ultralight. “It is an ultralight flying low and fast. I am in pursuit.”

  “Just keep the suspect in sight,” were the instructions over his headset. “Let us know where and when he lands and we will apprehend. We have the downtown covered like white on rice so wherever he lands we will have an officer on the ground within a block. He will have a hard time getting out of town. We’ve got him in a box.”

  “Affirmative,” snapped the pilot and gave chase.

  Using the ultralight for the pickup was an excellent idea. It was small, maneuverable and could land just about anywhere there was a short landing area. Those advantages were counterbalanced by the fact it had to come down somewhere. Wherever it landed, the police would be on the landing area in a matter of moments, even seconds. The city was locked down with police and troopers at all points of the compass so it was hard to believe the ultralight was going to be able to set down anywhere and not be taken within a very short period of time. The ultralight had taken the gems and was in the air. Now it had to come down.

  It was not a long chase. Either the ultralight anticipated the arrival of the helicopter or planned for it. Most likely it was the former for the small aircraft waited for the helicopter to get close and then it veered steeply to the right, heading due north directly into the downtown area. The trooper chopper took more time to make the bank and by the time it was heading north, the ultralight had several blocks on its pursuer. Then the ultralight took another bank to the right, now going due east, and blasted down Fifth Avenue at the third story level. All along Fifth Avenue tourists looked up to watch the small plane whip by.

  This was dangerous for an ultralight and suicide for a chopper.

  So the chopper rose, putting lots of air between itself and the ground. By the time it had risen above the tops of the downtown structures the pilot could see the ultralight start a 180 degree turn over the old City Hall and double back on Fourth Avenue. The ultralight was moving so fast by the time the trooper chopper started its turn, the ultralight was already passing beneath it, headed due west now.

  “He’s headed for the Inlet,” the pilot said as he rose and looked over his shoulder. “Right down Fourth Avenue like he owns it! I’m watching people wave at him as he blasts down the canyon!”

  The trooper pilot could not make a steep banking motion this low so he had to rise to 500 feet before he could bank. As the chopper strained to make the turn, the pilot looked up and over his left shoulder, now parallel with the ground, trying to spot the fast moving ultralight.

  “I’ve lost him,” the pilot said.

  “Fine. OK,” said the Command Center. “We’ve got cars on the ground all over downtown and a fixed wing moving into position over city center.”

  “I can’t see him!” The pilot desperately scanned the horizon looking for the ultralight.

  “Keep on your vector,” Command Center ordered. “Wherever he comes down, we’ve got him.”

  The chopper rose to 1,000 feet and the pilot scanned the horizon. “Still have no visual,” he said, the anxiety rising in his voice. “I am headed 270, due west for any cars listening. Due west. I see no ultralight. It is not over the Inlet and I do not see it over Knik Arm on the North and I do not see it fleeing city center to the south. He could not have passed me moving east. I cannot see the ultralight. Repeat. I cannot see the ultralight!”

  “Keep looking,” the anxiety now rising in the voice of the operator at Command Center. “He couldn’t have disappeared. We’ve got cars all over city center. He has to land somewhere.”

  What everyone in uniform knew was the basic rule of pursuit: do not run from the police. If you must, make the run as short as possible. Once a pursuit has begun, the longer it lasts the more likely you are to be caught. There is no end to the amount of manpower and technology which can be focused on the pursued. The wisest course of action, which the ultralight had taken, was to make the pursuit as short as possible. It had made the pick-up, shaken off the helicopter and disappeared before the fixed wing could make it over the downtown area. All the pilot had to do was land. He wasn’t in the air so perforce he had to be on the ground.

  But where on the ground was he?

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Command Center came back on line. “We are checking with all cars on the ground. Maintain your altitude.” There was another long agonizing moment. “Bear One this is Command Center. We have no visual of the ultralight on the ground. Repeat. No visual. It has not landed. It is either still in the air or has landed on top of a building.”

  “Copy,” stated the chopper pilot shaking his head. “Unlikely ultralight has landed on a building. There is no roof long enough for a landing strip.”

  “Affirmative,” continued Command Center. “How about the parking garages?”

  “There is only one at this end of town,” came the voice from the trooper chopper. “I can see it from here. It is clear on top, no ultralight. Do you want me to check the other two?”

  “No. Remain in the western sector. The fixed wing will over fly the other two parking garages. Over-fly the Alaska Railroad yard just in case our cars on the ground missed something.”

  The chopper banked to the north, headed for the Alaska Railroad switching yard but the chopper pilot knew he’d been snookered. There were too many troopers on the ground at the rail yard for an ultralight to land unnoticed. It had not landed on any street, any roof top or the Park Strip.

  Where in the blue blazes had it landed?

  Chapter 39

  It was a heartbreaker. After all the work, the subterfuge, the smoking – particularly the smoking – to come up this short.

  The Corporal had been the first one out under the warehouse door. Jim had done everything he could with the alarm system, which wasn’t much. He had disabled what he could from the inside but there was still the problem of the electric eye on the outside. The inside alarm was set to announce the arrival of someone on the outside, a truck on its way in. When the movement of the truck hit the motion sensor, the warehouse door would open. With the opening of the door, an alarm would sound, not to alert security but to make sure everyone in warehouse knew to get out of the way of the incoming vehicle.

  There were no fire alarms on the inside of the warehouse. They had been disabled, most likely to keep the hostages from setting them off in hopes of attracting attention. It was a vain hope if you were outside and knew the nearest structure was well beyond ear shot. If you were inside the warehouse you would not know how far away the next building was. Or if the fire alarm was hooked up to a fire station. So it was worth a chance setting off the fire alarm.

  If the fire alarms inside the warehouse worked.

  Which they didn’t.

  Which left the alarm system outside the warehouse.

  Which made it a problem.

  There was only going to be one way to get the warehouse door open without setting off the alarm. It was to slip one person outside to disable the electric eye – or motion detector – whichever one it was. It was risky because the instant the door went up, the alarm would go off. Mittles had come up with the suggestion they slip one person out to disable the alarm and have the rest of the hostages wander around and look at the ceiling stupidly. This should give th
e outside person enough time to disable the system. Then, after a sufficient period of time had passed, assume the extortionist was not watching and make a break for it.

  The first half of the plan had worked well. The Corporal made it out under the door and was able to rip the wires from the electric eye quickly. It silenced the alarm.

  Then there had been an unexpected problem. A human problem. Until the Corporal actually made it out under the warehouse door, all discussions of escape among the hostages had been more academic in nature than a real life possibility. It was a theoretical concept, this escape. Only three people believed it was possible: Jim, Mittles and the Corporal. No one else did. The job of distracting the extortionist was an interesting sidelight to their captivity, something akin to poking a stick in a tiger’s cage to see it move. It was not looked upon as a prelude to escape. It was a pleasant way to pass the time.

  Then came a change. The instant the warehouse door went up enough to let the Corporal slide under, escape changed from a theoretical concept to a reality. Seconds after the alarm shut off, the door was harmless. Now, rather than mill around like sheep looking at the alarm system to fool the extortionist, the hostages felt it was, as the Southern expression went, ‘time to get gone while the getting was good.’

  En masse the hostages raised the warehouse door and flooded out.

  But they didn’t rush far.

  Though the warehouse had been built in the 1970s, with the advent of 911 it had been retrofitted with security fencing. The wide open entrance has been narrowed with chain link fence to form a channel to the front gate. Razor wire topped the fence on all sides of the warehouse as well as above the gate. The entrance had two gates in sequence, 20 feet apart. The design was to allow a truck to enter the first gate, close it off and then open the second gate after the truck had been inspected – going in and coming out. Both gates were controlled by an electronic switch located behind a bullet proof glass room in the top of the warehouse.