The Last Hostage

by Nance, John J. ;

  “Okay, you got it. The plan isn’t to immobilize him, then. But if he can be seen, do you plan to take him out with a sharpshooter?”

  “No! Absolutely not!” Kat explained the bomb and the dead man’s trigger.

  “Okay. I understand. All other units, do not approach the aircraft, do not attempt to block him or intervene or even look threatening. This is Goodwin.”

  “Since you’re already there, Deputy Goodwin, tell me if you see anything happening.”

  “Nothing yet. I can see someone in the pilot’s seat, and heads in the passenger windows, but no doors have opened. A ground service guy is by the right wing standing on a ladder and opening what may be a fuel panel or port.”

  She could see the 737 on the ramp ahead now in the distance as Dane and Jeff settled the Gulfstream in on final approach and floated in over the highway.

  “Agent Bronsky, you still there?” Goodwin’s voice crackled over the phone.

  She pressed the handset to her ear again. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “You want to taxi up alongside my position when you get here so we can talk?”

  “Will do. We’re landing now and I’m going to disconnect. When we drop our steps, please come aboard immediately. I’ve got radio contact with Flight Ninety.”

  NINETEEN

  Telluride Regional Airport, Colorado. 3:15 P.M.

  Ken looked toward the sound of a decelerating jet and saw the sleek Gulfstream IV slowing along the runway. The fact that they’d figured it out so fast wasn’t particularly surprising. Kat Bronsky was an interesting, tenacious, dangerous adversary, and he knew she’d be calling momentarily.

  Ken pulled the P. A. handset from its cradle as he shot a stern glance at Rudy Bostich. “Don’t move a muscle!”

  “Folks, this is Captain Wolfe again. I told you a while ago, with regret, why I was doing what I’m doing. I also told you I did, in fact, have a large load of plastic explosives wired and primed in the baggage bin, and that I’m holding a trigger that will explode the bomb if I let go of it. All of that is still true. Don’t anyone even think of touching a door without my approval. I have lights up here that will tell me instantly if any door or hatch, including the emergency exit hatches, are opened. I hate to say it, but I have no choice. If I see any one of those lights turn on, I’ll let go of the trigger, and the end will be immediate and tragic for all of us. Now, stay seated and don’t even undo your seatbelts. I have some things to accomplish before I can decide when and how to let you off this airplane.”

  Ken replaced the P.A. handset as a familiar voice came through his headset.

  “Ken Wolfe, this is Kat Bronsky. Can you hear me?”

  He snorted and shook his head slightly as he punched the transmit button.

  “What kept you, Kat?”

  The answer was rapid. “Oh, a small matter of our wingman not telling us he was planning on leaving. Do you have built-in stairs on that seven-thirty-seven, Ken, or should we order some portable airstairs for you?”

  “Why do we need stairs, Kat?” he asked with feigned innocence.

  “You were going to let the people out of there in Grand Junction, Ken. Telluride’s just as good, and steps seem like a better idea than making them jump.”

  “All in good time, Agent Bronsky. First, let’s get this straight. Anyone who approaches this airplane from any angle kills everyone aboard. I see a door light go on, I’m releasing the button, and boom, it’s all over. Every single hatch and door is wired. Try to shoot, touch, deflate, or monkey with the tires or landing gear, try to immobilize this aircraft, or stop the refueling, and it’s all over.”

  “Ken, we understand.”

  “I don’t know who ‘we’ is, Kat, but it better be everyone.” Ken closed his eyes for a second, trying to decide whether the thought that had flitted across his consciousness should be spoken.

  He opened his eyes then and pressed the transmit button, the decision made.

  “Kat … triggering this bomb would create enough outrage to force a thorough investigation of every single aspect of my allegations, expose Bostich, and convict Lumin. Letting go of this trigger is another way to accomplish my goals, so please don’t think I won’t do it. Don’t make that mistake. I’ll die with it, but you, on the other hand, would have to live a lifetime with the miscalculation.”

  There was a lengthy silence before the Gulfstream’s transmitter kicked back on.

  “I understand, Ken. Believe me, I do understand.”

  “Okay, Kat. Tell that deputy sitting out here he’d better stay back. I parked here because I can see all of my airplane reflecting in the terminal windows. I can see anyone approaching, understand?”

  “Ken, no one’s going to approach you.”

  “One more thing. I’m sure you’ll have some sharpshooter show up in a minute who’ll have my head in his crosshairs, and yes, he could kill me with a single shot. But not even Bostich would be able to stop me from releasing the trigger, and detonation would occur instantly.”

  “There are no sharpshooters, Ken. We’re not crazy. The deputy’s alone out here. No one else is going to approach from any angle, I promise you. The deputy is going to come aboard my airplane. I’ll keep him strictly under control, okay?”

  “Kat, I’d better hear real fast from you that Bradley Lumin’s been apprehended and a grand jury’s been convened.”

  Rudy Bostich shifted position uncomfortably in the copilot’s seat and Ken’s head jerked instantly to the right to see what he was doing.

  The pause from the Gulfstream was too long, and Ken turned back to the left and pressed the transmit button.

  “You’re not really going to tell me he hasn’t been arrested yet? Not after more than two hours?”

  “Ken, Lumin is gone. We can’t find him.”

  Ken inhaled sharply. He hadn’t expected that. Obviously it was a clever ploy. Maybe they’d even told Lumin to run.

  He jammed the transmit button down in anger. “Jesus Christ, you think I’m an idiot? That trick’s not about to work, Kat. Tell the fools in D.C. this equation is as simple as it gets: No arrest, no indictment, no trial, then no passengers. That’s the bottom line. Why don’t you tell these nice folks they don’t mean enough to their government to rescue with a simple arrest?”

  “Ken, it’s not a trick! Honest. Officers were dispatched to Lumin’s trailer, just as you asked, but there was no one there.”

  “Bullshit! I was going to let these people go. I wanted to let them out, but now I can’t, until that animal is in custody and you stop trying to manipulate me with lies.”

  Her tone was pleading. “Ken, I’d be an idiot to lie to you at this point. I’m telling you the gospel truth. They went, he wasn’t there, and they searched the area. Don’t hold those people hostage to something we can’t control. Please!”

  The Gulfstream was coming to a halt on his left side, right behind the deputy’s vehicle. Ken sighed and shook his head as he muttered to himself, “I don’t believe this.” He rubbed his temple for a second, keeping an eye on Bostich in his peripheral vision before pressing the transmit button again.

  “You people are crazy! How many agents back in D.C. did it take to think that one up? Here I sit with the ability to kill us all in a microsecond and the goddamned FBI and Justice Department refuse to arrest a murderer. You’ve tipped your hand, Kat.”

  Dane shut down the Gulfstream’s engines and quietly ran through the checklist with the copilot as Kat fingered the microphone and tried to find the right words.

  “Ken, you’ve got this all wrong. Let me tell you the details.”

  She described the trailer and the distance from Ft. Collins as Frank had relayed it. “Ken, we wouldn’t know all that unless someone had been out there.”

  “Yeah, right,” he shot back. “So they sent someone out with a notepad. Did they search his pigsty trailer?”

  “They didn’t have probable cause, ah …” her eyes widened in horror.

  Oh, No! Damn, damn,
damn! Wrong thing to say! Kat kept the button depressed and tried to recover.

  “… which is to say, Ken, that they hadn’t received the warrant yet to go inside, but while they waited for it, they were able to look in the windows and there wasn’t anything amiss.”

  The response from the cockpit of the 737 was all too rapid, the voice even more suspicious and sarcastic.

  “Oh, of course, they must have left the warrant in their other pants. Jesus Christ! They went out there without a warrant? Obviously, then, no one had the slightest intention of arresting Lumin. On top of that, what the hell do you mean, ‘there wasn’t anything amiss?’ What were they doing, checking on his damned welfare?”

  She sighed as she pressed the button once more, keeping her voice even and steady, making certain not to betray the seismic emotions roiling her stomach.

  “Ken, wait just a second, will you? Let’s stay calm here. Let me explain precisely what went on. First, while they were waiting for the warrant, they went out to place him under surveillance to make sure he didn’t slip away, and that’s when they found he’d left. His car wasn’t there, there was no sign of him in the trailer, and no indication of where he’d gone.” She released the button with her heart fluttering. How had she gotten herself into a corner so fast?

  The frequency was quiet for several long, agonizing seconds before Ken’s voice filled the speaker.

  “Remember I told you over an hour ago, Kat, that I was your worst nightmare because I knew all your tricks? Okay. Lesson number one for hostage negotiators is learning to delay the game and wear the guy down. Kat, get it through your skull that isn’t going to work with me. Take a look at your watch. Mark where the big hand is. Add thirty minutes to that. That’s your deadline. If Lumin isn’t in custody by then, we’re out of here, one way or another.”

  “Ken, if you know the procedures that well, you also know we’re not allowed to lie to the perpetrator. They did precisely what I told you, and now we’re tearing around Colorado trying to find Lumin, but God only knows whether it’s been a day, a week, or a month since he left.” She released the button and was shocked at the rapid reply.

  “No more than ten hours.”

  Kat hesitated. “What?”

  “Ten hours, maximum, Kat. He couldn’t have been gone more than that.”

  “How … how do you know that?” she asked, truly puzzled. If Lumin had been kidnapped, could Wolfe somehow be behind it?

  “I just know.”

  “But how, Ken? That isn’t good enough. Did you call him this morning on the phone? If so, you need to realize that he could have forwarded his line to somewhere else.”

  “Trust me, Kat. Lumin was there at midnight. He couldn’t have gone far. His car was missing a tire.”

  Kat felt a strange blush of recognition engulf her, as an obvious connection she should have seen earlier finally coalesced. There were tracks outside, Frank had said, along with footprints and an unused bullet, as though someone had been stalking Lumin.

  And it was the second anniversary of Melinda Wolfe’s murder.

  She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head in disgust that she hadn’t connected it right away.

  Kat pressed the microphone button with her mind racing.

  “Ken,” she began, slowly, “around midnight last night, out there in the cold with that rifle, what made you change your mind?”

  In the cockpit of AirBridge 90, Ken Wolfe let his head loll forward as he closed his eyes, the entire agony replaying in his head.

  She’d put it together.

  Rudy Bostich’s voice caused him to jump slightly. “What the hell are you discussing, Captain, and with whom?”

  Ken didn’t respond.

  “Captain?”

  He rubbed his forehead, feeling the hopelessness again.

  “You all right?” Rudy tried again.

  Ken snorted suddenly and opened his eyes, slowly looking to his right.

  “Do you have any idea, Bostich, how incredibly stupid that sounds? Here I am with your life literally in my hands, and there you are a lying bastard holding back the very thing I’m committing all these crimes to accomplish, and you want to know if I’m all right?”

  Rudy looked embarrassed and shrugged. “I just wondered, you know—”

  “When you tell me the truth I’ll be all right, and so will all those people back there,” Ken gestured to the back as Kat’s voice returned to his ear, her tone very soft.

  “Ken? Are you there?”

  He took a deep breath and pressed the button again.

  “I’m here.”

  “So why, Ken?”

  He held his forehead again and pressed the transmit button, startled at the involuntary sob that preceded the words he wanted to say.

  What the hell! Tell her! he decided, and the same explanation he’d given to Rudy Bostich tumbled out along with the pain and anger and the utter, complete, devastating realization in the middle of the night that he was powerless to even end the murderer’s life.

  Lumin had won. He’d killed them both.

  Kat’s voice was slow in returning to the channel.

  “So, this morning you suddenly found Rudolph Bostich on your flight, the man you’re convinced screwed up the prosecution of Bradley Lumin, and it was all too much to take, especially after last night’s failure.”

  Ken nodded before remembering to punch the button. “You’re very perceptive, Kat. But please don’t tell me that proves I’m not a murderer, or in this case, executioner. If I could go back tonight, that trigger would be pulled.”

  “I understand.”

  He exhaled suddenly and gripped the microphone with resolve. “Just like I’ll carry out my threats here and now if my demands aren’t met. This is the last chance I have, Kat. I’m not going to back down. I can’t. You either comply directly, or I blow us up and let public outrage provide the momentum.”

  “I need to come over there and talk to you in person, Ken. That okay? I’ll leave whenever you want.”

  Involuntarily he jerked his head to the left, wondering why she would make such a request. That couldn’t be in the procedures, or was he overlooking something?

  “No!”

  “Think about it, please?” she pleaded. “I’m unarmed, and it wouldn’t matter anyway, would it? You’ve got that infernal trigger. Even if I had a Howitzer I couldn’t use it, so I’m no threat, but it’s hard talking to you this way, having to push to talk, and waiting for every reply.”

  Ken let out a short laugh as he checked the fuel gauges. The fueler had already loaded over eleven thousand pounds and was still pumping, probably wholly unaware of what was happening.

  Ken hit the button again. “Kat, you’re still forgetting I know the routine. If I let you over here, you’ll have a chance to work on my head, try to pretend friendship and caring and bonding, and hey, I’m a normal male and you sound like a normal female, so maybe I’d fall for that chemistry, too. No. You can’t come over here. There’s nothing to talk about until you and Bostich both give me what I want.”

  “Then let me talk to Bostich. Maybe I can convince him.”

  Rudy Bostich couldn’t hear her request, but he could see the utterly strange look that crossed Ken’s face as he suddenly turned his head toward the right seat, then reached up and flicked on an overhead speaker before pressing the transmit button. “Stand by, Kat. I’ll set it up, and I’ll be listening to every word.”

  “Understood,” she said, the answer booming through the cockpit at earsplitting volume as Ken’s hand shot out to turn down the volume control.

  He pointed to a microphone hanging to the right of the copilot’s seat.

  “Pick up the mike, Bostich. Agent Kat Bronsky wants to talk to you.”

  A look of alarm crossed Rudy’s face.

  “Why?”

  Ken snorted. “Hell, Bostich, I don’t know. Maybe at last the FBI is onto you.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Pick up the microphone
and press the button on top to talk, release it immediately to listen.”

  Bostich did so tentatively, as if the microphone were about to shock him.

  “This is U.S. Attorney Rudolph Bostich,” he said in a slightly forced tone, still holding the transmit button.

  “Release the button,” Ken snapped.

  Rudy looked to the left, startled. “What?”

  “The transmit button. Release it to listen.”

  Rudy looked down at the microphone and let go of the button suddenly.

  Kat’s voice returned as she introduced herself and assured him that the FBI was aware of all aspects of the situation.

  “So, what do you want to talk to me about?” Rudy asked. “I just want out of here.”

  “Sir, I have to tell you with all due respect, that if you are, in fact, holding back any information on the Lumin case, you’re imperiling yourself and everyone aboard.”

  Rudy snorted. “You trying to intimidate me, Agent?”

  “No, sir. But we have a serious accusation against you made the first time, I’m told, in a Connecticut court by a police detective, and now repeated in a major hijacking, and demands are being made here that are being heard all the way to the White House. I’m not allowed to come over there physically and talk to you, so I have to use this method. Mr. Bostich, I’ve been given a quick synopsis of the Connecticut hearing that led to the invalidation of the search warrant. I’d like to ask you about that.” She let up on the transmit button, and Rudy punched his immediately, a look of amazement contorting his face.

  “Are you aware who I am, young lady?”

  Kat’s reply was immediate.

  “Yes, sir, you told me who you are. Now. In reference to Detective Matson’s claim under oath in that hearing—a claim that you called him with a tip that Bradley Lumin was the murderer of Melinda Wolfe—could there be the slightest truth in that claim, sir? Think very carefully before you answer, please, because this is a formal investigation.”

  Rudy shook his head and smiled sarcastically. “What hick town police department did you come from, Agent Bronsky? You’re speaking to a United States Attorney, and a candidate for U.S. Attorney General. I’m not the goddamned hijacker here, woman! Captain Wolfe is. How dare you presume to question me, and on an open radio channel?”