The Matter of the Deserted Airliner

by Levi, Steve;

  There was no place for the hostages to go.

  Then it started to rain.

  Chapter 40

  “Which one was this?” asked Gerry when the voice called to gloat. “Air or earth?”

  “Gerry, dahling. A bit of both, actually. Earth for the pickup and air for the escape. Two for the price of one.”

  “This is not funny.”

  “I think it is. What we have here is a clean getaway. Again. Two out of two. Not a bad batting average.”

  “I haven’t heard you got away with anything yet.”

  “Of course. You have footage of the takeoff. Why not get footage of the landing as well: air and earth. Like I said.”

  “The police don’t know where your pilot came down. I’m listening to them on the squawk box. I don’t know either.”

  “Oh, but I do.” The voice chuckled. “Zip over to the top of the Wickersham Hotel garage and see what you see.”

  “You think the police are going to let me in?”

  “They don’t know to look there yet.”

  Gerry was already moving. She indicated by waving her hand the cameraman was to load up. As he was packing, Gerry asked, “By the way. When are the hostages going to be released?”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “The police don’t.”

  “It’s their job, Gerry, dear. The hostages will be released right after the final payment of $10 million. Five and five and five and ten is 25.”

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Cost of doing business.”

  Chapter 41

  To say Ayanna was not pleased to see Gerry McComber at the scene of the landing before the police got there was a grotesque understatement.

  “You can’t be here,” snapped Ayanna as she put her hand over the camera lens. “This is a crime scene.”

  “I’m press!” Gerry was reaching for her press credentials when Ayanna stopped her.

  “You can be Santa Claus for all I care. Beat it!”

  “Hey, you can’t be here either. You’re not the cops. You’re a state worker. Out of my way!”

  Gerry might have tried to face down Ayanna who was, after all, simply security personnel who had no more right to be on a crime scene than she, but with the arrival of the Anchorage Police, Gerry retreated. She had her footage. No one else did. She’d beat the rest of the press corps. All she had to do was make it to the station without losing her tape.

  “I’ll take that tape.” An Anchorage Police lieutenant she did not recognize blocked her path, extending his hand toward the camera.

  “Not a chance.” This time Gerry did pull out her press credentials. “Press.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s patootie who you are. The tape is called evidence.”

  “This tape,” Gerry said as she tapped the side of the video camera, “is press footage. If you don’t like it, get a lawyer.”

  “I just might do that!” The lieutenant leaned forward menacingly.

  Gerry smiled. She loved men like the lieutenant. They were a dime-adozen. She leaned forward while she said, “Roll it!” Nose-to-nose with the lieutenant she looked down at his name tag. “Lieutenant Hardingfield, are you telling me you are going to violate the First Amendment of the United States Constitution and steal a tape legally shot by the press?”

  The lieutenant stalled. The color drained from his face but his eyes were alive with rage. “That’s, that’s evidence! You’re not leaving her with it!”

  Evidence it may have been but confiscate it he could not. He was gently informed of the unfortunate fact when the public relations flack for the Anchorage Police Department made his appearance. Ten minutes of shouting later. He had a rather hasty conversation with the lieutenant after which the lieutenant left – quickly.

  “Gerry! It’s so good so you!” He was all smiles as the flack approached Gerry. “Sorry to hear there was this little misunderstanding. Tempers are running a bit high. You can understand things are a bit tense now.”

  “Sure can,” Gerry played her cards carefully. “And I’ve got the tapes to prove it.”

  “Gerry, Gerry, Gerry. There’s no reason for a hot-under-the-collar lieutenant to spoil a perfectly good relationship.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Cold-blooded, eh? Well, there could be something but frankly, at this stage of the game, I don’t know what to offer you.”

  “How about an exclusive on the next drop. I get the tip. Me and my cameraman.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Gerry!”

  “Sure you can, Sid. Just think how you can spin it.” She put her hands up as if reading the words in lights, “Anchorage Police Enlists Aid of Reporter to Solve Crime.”

  “I still can’t do it.”

  “Well, consider this news story then.” She puts her hands up again. “Anchorage Police Threatens Reporter, Violates First Amendment.”

  The flack gave a supercilious smile. “Now, you wouldn’t do that, Gerry. Oh, you could but you’d never get another lead out of the Department. No plates run, no files, no reports. I’ll tell what I’ll do. You forget about this unfortunate little incident and I will do what I can to involve you in the next pickup. I don’t know what I can do but I’ll try. It’s the best I can do for you.”

  “Sid, you’d better be good for this.”

  “I will be as good as I can. No guarantees. Now, about the tape.” He held out his hand.

  “I’ll hang onto it for a while,” Gerry smiled, “just in case. You know, Sid, just in case things don’t work out well.”

  “Gerry,” the Flack smiled. “I’ve always been fair with you.”

  “Fair,” replied Gerry, “is what happens every Labor Day in Palmer. This is just good old fashioned horse trading. You do for me; I do for you.”

  Chapter 42

  The Fisherman picked up his two fish in the round from the back of Sebastian Seafoods. He rolled the dolly with the ice chest right up to the back door and rang the bell. This made the clerk very happy. He didn’t have to lug the two salmon out to some customer’s car. He just lay the two salmon into the ice chest and slide the back door down.

  The Fisherman had parked his truck half a block away, behind the cinderblock fence separating the front of a gun store from the street. As an added precaution, the Fisherman had removed the front license plate and slathered the back plate with mud. Mud made it hard to remember even one letter or number.

  If anyone was watching.

  Which they weren’t.

  Then the Fisherman wadded the receipt and stuck it in his mouth. You couldn’t be too careful for a one-sixth share of $25 million tax-free dollars.

  Chapter 43

  “What kind of Mickey Mouse outfit are you guys, anyway?” Henry Harrison was not in a good mood. “Jez Louise! You are making Homeland Security look like a joke!” He was so close to the AIC he might as well have been in the man’s shirt. “Some yahoo on an ultralight picks up $5 million in gems from the Park Strip in full view of every blasted television camera lens in Anchorage and he gets away! GETS AWAY! What kind of message does that send to our enemies overseas?”

  “It’s not as if we let the man get away.” The AIC was in an awkward position, but not an uncomfortable one. His directive, straight from the glass tower in Washington D. C., with regard to Homeland Security was in three parts: Be Respectful, Be Cooperative, Be Silent.

  Nothing was said about Homeland Security being in charge. That made it simple. Again the rule was in three parts: defuse, deflect and delay. Defuse the anger so something productive can happen. Deflect the anger from what cannot be done to something that can be done. Delay making any decision in haste.

  There was also one letter the two men had in common: “H.” For the AIC, the H was for hostages; for Henry Harrison, headlines.

  Harrison then started right down the law and order food chain; the Alaska State Troopers and then the Anchorage Police. Last and most vociferously to Airport Security and their pro bon
o consultant, Heinz Noonan, Chief of Detectives of the Sandersonville, North Carolina Police Department – wherever in the universe was Sandersonville was anyway.

  “You are an embarrassment to your uniform,” Harrison said to Noonan as he shook his finger at the Bearded Holmes. “I should call your Chief, the real Chief, and tell him what a miserable job you are doing.”

  “Well, sir,” said Noonan, faking a slow Southern drawl, “you could do that, of course. But you see, sir,” and he accented the word ‘sir’ so it was more of an insult than a title of respect, “the fact of the matter is, technically, you are in charge. That is, according to the President of the United States, the Office of Homeland Security is supposed to be coordinating all matters of security. Which means you, sir,” again the ingratiating use of the term. “A lot of people are going to want to know what you, personally, have done to ensure 89 passengers and a crew of six can make a trip on an American airliner from two secure American cities. And those same people are going to want to know why you, personally, agreed to pay $25 million in tax payer money to secure the release of hostages who never should have been taken in the first place.”

  This clearly gave Harrison a moment of contemplation. Noonan plowed right on. When it came to playing politics, he was a master at getting people off his back. So he continued. “Then those same people are going to want to know why you insisted on trying to capture the people responsible for picking up the ransom without securing the safe release of the hostages first. All 89 passengers and six crew members. Now you can go ahead and make a big deal of the FBI, Alaska State Troopers, Anchorage Police Department, and Anchorage Airport Security forces who are doing their job exactly the way they have been trained to do their job. If you do, I’ll be forced to talk to the national newspapers which are, I might add, read by say, ten times as many people as the Anchorage papers. I’m just on loan here. I’m not in the administrative food chain.”

  This clearly did not sit well with Harrison, as evidenced by the snarl of his lips falling to a frown. Harrison tried a comeback. “I will also have to check in with the Special Assistant for the Mayor for Homeland Security who is, I believe, your immediate superior while you are in this city. He, also, is going to be very interested in knowing what you are specifically doing to secure the safe release of 89 passengers and the crew of six who have disappeared.”

  If Harrison was hoping from reaction from Noonan. He didn’t get it. Mixing faux humility with a soft Southern drawl, the Chief of Detectives from Sandersonville, North Carolina – which was just up the coast from Nags Head – was the very soul of avuncular discretion. “In that case I’ll have to contact the Special Assistant for Eastern District of the Homeland Security who is, I believe, your immediate superior’s superior. With all of the publicity he is going to be very interested in knowing what you are specifically doing to secure the safe release of 89 passengers and the crew of six who have disappeared on your watch and what you are going to do to keep future abductions safe in your region of the country.”

  Noonan then tilted his head toward Harrison as if to say, “and what do you have to say to that?”

  Harrison didn’t know what to say so he did the worst thing he could do. He threatened. “You, you, you” he said to Noonan and then looked around the room, “all of you! You are only working because I let you work!”

  “Not exactly true,” said Noonan softly. “The only reason you are working is because you couldn’t find a job on your own.” What tittering there had been in the room dropped. There was a hushed silence. Noonan went on. “The only reason you’re keeping this job is because we are doing ours. Now why don’t you be a good little boy and run along and find some butt to kiss.”

  Harrison stood rooted to the ground. No one had ever talked to him like that! No one! “I’ll see you’re fired for this,” he snarled.

  “Fine with me,” Noonan says. “I’m past retirement age anyway.” He brightened as if a thought suddenly crossed his mind. “I know. I’ve got the connections to get a job with Homeland Security!” He extended his hand toward Harrison. “Maybe we’ll end up working together.”

  That was too much for Harrison. He was off in a huff. But he knew he couldn’t just leave; he had to exit with a parting shot. Weak though the parting shot was, it was, blessedly, a parting shot. “You haven’t heard the last of this!”

  Then he was gone.

  The door to the Command Center slammed behind him.

  There was a moment of stunned silence and then thunderous applause.

  After a moment the AIC called the room back to order. “OK. Enough. Technically, as the good Chief of Detectives from North Carolina – and our hero for the hour – has stated, Homeland Security is in charge. So let’s all keep that in mind. Now, if everyone will take a seat, we’ll have everyone give us an up-to-date on what has happened to date.”

  There was a shuffling of chairs as the Command Center staff, such as it were, found seats and sat down.

  “Well,” said the AIC looking at the main door, “now that everyone who should be here is here. . .” He let the rest of the sentence hang. There was a shuffling of feet and murmuring as the AIC continued, “I, for one, would like to say I am pleased our unpaid, pro bono consultant is on board for both his experience and his, how shall I saw this, ‘quickness of wit.’”

  Again there was thunderous applause. Noonan simply waved one hand as if say, “Aw, it was nothing.”

  Once it was said, the AIC got down to business. “It’s been a while since we’ve all been together with 13 seconds to talk. So let’s do a rundown of where we are. Chief Noonan, you’ve been following the cargo that lost weight. What the latest?”

  “Let’s talk about the hostage first. That’s our top priority.”

  The AIC nodded assent.

  Noonan got to his feet and set his fingers delicately on the table. “As of this moment, I, like you, have no idea where the hostages are. The last I heard from my department was there has been and continues to be an ongoing search of large structures in the airport area. The Seattle Police Department assumes, and I agree with them, the passengers and crew were somehow taken away from the flight line under a pretext a terrorist attack was anticipated.”

  “What makes you so sure the passengers are in the Seattle area?” The hostage negotiator for the Alaska State Troopers asked.

  “There are only three possibilities,” Noonan stated. “The hostages are in Anchorage, Seattle or were taken off the plane somewhere in between. We know they are not in Anchorage. If they had been sucked out of the plane by some alien force I doubt they would be held for ransom. Also, there was not enough time for the plane to land anywhere between Seattle and Anchorage to let off the passengers and then take off again. Ergo, the only place the passengers could be is Seattle.”

  “That’s where they probably were,” replied a hostage negotiator in the crowd of law enforcement personnel. “That might not be where they are now?”

  “True,” replied Noonan. “We are talking about 89 passengers and six crew members. That’s a lot of people to keep hidden. They have to be fed, kept warm and dry, away from phones. It means they are in a large structure, like a warehouse converted into a barrack. There are not many in the Seattle area and the Seattle Police are checking them as fast as possible.”

  “What’s this about the cargo losing weight?” Noonan could not place the question to the questioner.

  “There are a number of leads still being explored,” Noonan said. “One of the strangest is an air cargo igloo. It was checked in at the Unicorn cargo bay in New York where it was weighed at 200 pounds. It was sent to New Orleans where it was off-loaded. Then the New Orleans Unicorn office received a message to forward the igloo to Anchorage via Seattle. It was treated as a new shipment where it weighed in at 136 pounds.”

  “136 pounds?” Said the same voice. “What happened to the odd pounds?”

  “We didn’t know there was a weight discrepancy until it arrived in Anchora
ge. When we did a cross check of the cargo, the weight difference was noticed. When we opened the igloo, it was empty.”

  “Empty? As in the igloo had nothing in it?”

  “Correct. The seal on the igloo still had the New York imprint. The FBI broke the seal to enter and examine the cargo except there was no cargo to examine.”

  “Who sent the cargo in the first place?”

  “We don’t know that either. The shipment was placed and paid for by a cargo forwarding company, Harrison, Johnson, McDonagle. We contacted them and they checked the records. An electronics supply company in New Jersey had made the shipment. The supply company is a regular shipper so there was no reason to suspect the shipment.”

  “Wouldn’t someone be suspicious when an electronics supply company sent cargo in an igloo? It should have raised some suspicions.” The man asking was wearing a trooper uniform.

  “Not really,” Noonan replied. “The supply company has no record of the shipment other than the billing. Someone stopped off at the Unicorn air cargo terminal in New York with the igloo and checked it in as a late shipment. No one cared because the supply company was a regular shipper and the paperwork was correct. The supply company has the paperwork but it’s a forgery.”

  “This is all very confusing,” said the trooper. “We have a shipment with a phony billing for an air cargo igloo losing all its weight between New York and Anchorage and yet nothing had been taken out?”

  “Correct,” said Noonan.

  “Do you have any idea what was in it?”

  “I’d guess dry ice,” said Noonan. “It would have evaporated to gas and thus the weight would have dropped with no indication anything had been taken out of the igloo.”

  “I’m even more confused,” said the unidentified voice. “So we have a shipment of dry ice and nothing but air in the cargo igloo. Does this have something to do with the case?”