John J Nance - The Last Hostage

by The Last Hostage(lit)

  "Did you?"

  "Of course not, but even if I had, I certainly wouldn't stand back here and admit it to you."

  Annette glanced at Kevin, who looked startled, then back at Rudy, who was trying to fathom her reaction and remember exactly what he'd just said.

  "What?" he asked.

  "I think..." Annette said quietly and slowly, her mind racing. "I think you just answered my question."

  The confusion on his face deepened. "Are you going to help me get out of here, or what?"

  "Sit down, Rudy." "What?"

  "Sit down in the last row back here. You're stuck with us, and I'm afraid we're stuck with you."

  At the same moment outside the forward entrance of the 737, Kat Bronsky was looking at the barrel of a powerful.44 Magnum pointing just over her head as Ken Wolfe's words echoed in her mind like the vibrations of a struck gong.

  "You've just become a hostage," he'd said.

  She looked him in the eye. "You are joking, right?"

  Ken shook his head side to side slowly. "No, Kat."

  She raised the palms of her hands. "Ken, what.., what good is this going to do? I mean, I'm the negotiator, for crying out loud!"

  "So, we'll go aboard and you can negotiate. Come on, m'lady. Get up the stairs."

  "I do not believe this!"

  Ken snorted. "I think I just had the same conversation with the shell- shocked deputy over there. Kat, I'm dead serious." He inclined the gun barrel toward the top of the stairs and she began climbing in trance- like confusion, wondering how she could explain to Frank what had just happened.

  Oh God! The Bureau will disown me for this! They'll go crazy!

  They'll never take me seriously again! , Kat stopped halfway up and turned around toward Ken.

  "How can I be your link with the government and help get you what you need if I'm here with you?"

  Ken smiled at her, not unkindly. "Come on, Kat. That was never your mission to begin with and we both know it. Besides, we've got phones aboard. Plenty of them. You get Bostich to confess, you can chat with the Pope if you want."

  "I'm not Catholic," she replied.

  "Keep moving, Kat," he said.

  She turned and climbed the last few steps to the entry way and stepped inside, aware that Ken had reached the top step right behind her.

  "Stand in the galley there for a minute, Kat."

  He turned back to the door and threw a switch. She heard the whine of a motor as the stairs retracted, and the slight bump of cabin pressure as he closed and secured the door. He turned to her then with an index finger up.

  "Stay there. Don't move." He opened the cockpit door with his left hand, keeping an eye on Kat, then leaned in for a second, emerging with a strange expression on his face.

  "What's the matter?" Kat asked.

  "Seems Bostich figured out my little ploy and ran to the back." "What ploy?"

  He looked at her and shook his head. "Never mind. Kat, get up front and strap into the right seat."

  "The copilot's seat?"

  He nodded. "Now."

  "What are we going to do?"

  Ken looked at the ceiling and shook his head before looking back.

  "We? Kat, let's get our roles straight here, okay? I'm the hijacker, holding a gun and a bomb and giving you orders. You're the hostage. Stop sounding like my accomplice."

  "What, I'm confusing you?" she asked in mock surprise.

  "YES, you're confusing me! Absolutely you're confusing me."

  "Good," she said, smiling slightly despite her knotted stomach and the appalling picture playing in her mind of the impending reaction at FBI Headquarters when they found out their agent on the scene was a hostage herself.

  Ken shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. "Damn, lady, you are very good at this."

  She looked up at him with surprise in her mind and an inadvertent look of innocence on her face.

  "I'm just trying to figure out what you want, Ken."

  He pointed with the gun toward the front. "Cockpit. Copilot's seat.

  Now. Go."

  She hesitated, catching his eyes. "What are you going to do, Ken?"

  "Just get up there."

  Her hand came up in a stop gesture.

  "Ken, don't go back there and do anything stupid."

  A look of disgust crossed his features as he glanced over his shoulder at the cabin, then looked back at her.

  "What, like shoot the only bastard who has the information I need?

  Hardly. Kat, get up there now!"

  "Or what? Or you'll gun me down?"

  The sound of the.44 Magnum being cocked shot through her consciousness.

  The fact that his finger was nowhere near the trigger did not register in Kat's mind. She heard herself inhale sharply, involuntarily.

  "I've got one last chance to get Lumin by cracking Bostich. There will be no second chances for me. Get in the way of that mission, and yes, Kat, I would kill you."

  "Okay," she said quietly.

  "Don't confuse what happened last night with Lumin. Last night there were other options. Today there's only one."

  He carefully uncocked the hammer.

  Kat nodded. "I'm moving."

  She moved into the cockpit and sat awkwardly in the copilot's seat as she tried to suppress the shaking in her limbs. She could hear Ken somewhere behind her in the entryway. Up to a few seconds ago she'd been confident she could talk him away from the brink. There had been a connection there, however slight, established in spite of his resistance.

  But that confidence had evaporated in the face of the cocked pistol.

  Now she wasn't sure. The level of desperation she'd witnessed frightened her, cutting through the procedures and the psychology and the empathy she was beginning to feel.

  Kat's eyes moved around the interior of the cockpit quickly as she tried to familiarize herself with the various controls.

  Her head was still whirling, and she thought of her handbag, now sitting in the Gulfstream. Her gun was in there. The gun she needed now. So were her FBI credentials, her credit cards, and the one piece of paper she instinctively knew Ken Wolfe must not see: her pilot's license.

  Communications panel. Where is it?

  She ran her hand along the center console to her left until she located the buttons.

  VHF number one and two, Navigation radios, P.A. button, and inter- phone.

  Okay. I need a headset.

  She looked to the right, finding the copilot's map kit and the cord from the headset jacks on the panel running back to a place on the floor where the copilot's tiny Telex headset had dropped.

  Kat leaned to her left and looked through the partially opened cockpit door. She could see Ken in the forward part of the cabin pulling a briefcase out of the overhead compartment.

  She picked up the copilot's headset and put it on as she punched the transmit button on the control yoke.

  "Five-Lima-Lima, can you hear me?"

  "We're here, Kat," Jess replied. "What's your situation?"

  She hesitated for a second, wondering whether to lie about her status as a hostage. Perhaps she could talk her way back out. Yet... they needed to know.

  "I... I think you'd better call Frank in Salt Lake and let him know what's happened," she said in little more than an animated whisper.

  She let up on the button, waiting for a response.

  "Kat, we saw the gun. Did you go aboard voluntarily?"

  "No," she replied, "but I'm going to try to defuse this situation. Tell him to inform Headquarters and stand by."

  A sound to her left caused her to turn around to find Ken Wolfe standing in the doorway, holding a briefcase.

  "You crack Bostich, Kat, and I guarantee you'll defuse this situation.''

  She searched his eyes; finding no anger there.

  "You did say I could use the phone."

  He snorted. "That's the radio, as you obviously know. Stay put."

  "Ken, where is Bostich?"

&nb
sp; He gestured over his shoulder. "In the back. Cowering in one of the seats."

  "Shouldn't I go back and talk to him?"

  Ken ignored the question as he slid into the left seat and worked the levers to slide it forward toward the yoke, adding to her confusion.

  "Ken?"

  He was fastening his seatbelt now, glancing every few seconds out the left window, then down at the fuel gauges.

  "Yeah?" he said at last, his eyes studying the overhead panel.

  "When can I question Bostich?"

  "When we're airborne," he said simply.

  Kat felt her heart skip a beat.

  "Ken?"

  His right hand came up in a wait gesture. "Just a minute. I've got a few things to do."

  "Ken, you promised to let the passengers off!"

  He shook his head while flipping through the aircraft's performance manual. "No I didn't, Kat. I said I wanted to, but you and your people back in D.C. didn't keep your end of the bargain. I can't release the people until Lumin's in custody."

  She swiveled halfway around in the copilot's seat, leaning forward to catch his eye. "Ken, dammit, look at me!"

  He stopped and looked over with a neutral expression. "Yes?"

  "You can't leave here with all these people aboard. You've got to give us something. You've got me, you've got Bostich, you don't need them."

  There was something in his eyes she hadn't noticed before, a distant, almost haunted look, as if he were looking through her, as if she didn't really count in the equation that was governing his thoughts and actions.

  "The people stay, Kat."

  "Dammit, at least let a few off. There's a wife back there whose husband you sent on a wild goose chase in Durango. The poor guy's petrified because she's pregnant and scared. Please, Ken! At least let her off."

  "And while I'm at it, a few more, right?"

  Kat nodded, aware that he was hesitating and thinking it over.

  "There's no difference between keeping twenty or a hundred and twenty, Ken, except that releasing a hundred gives the FBI reason to give you something in return."

  "First it's a single frightened wife, now it's a hundred.

  "The point's still valid, plus you're too heavy to take off with a full load of people and fuel."

  Ken glanced at the right window. "You see a fuel truck out there?" Kat looked around at the ramp. "Yes, there's one there."

  Ken nodded. "And he's still pumping. As soon as he's finished, we're out of here."

  A very cold feeling was spreading down her back.

  "Ken, a hundred thirty passengers, baggage, and fuel and according to that Gulfstream crew, there's no way you can lift this seven-thirty- seven off this runway. You'll kill all of us trying!"

  "I guess we'll see, Kat."

  She stared at him as he adjusted the air conditioning and pressurization panel overhead, then pulled the PA. microphone from the pedestal and pressed the button.

  "Folks, there's going to be a small delay in my ability to let you off the aircraft. We may need to fly to another airport to do that. In the meantime, just so no one will be tempted, I've pressurized the aircraft.

  None of the doors or emergency exits will open, so please don't try."

  He reached down to replace the microphone as Kat shook her head.

  "I don't believe you."

  Ken stopped and glanced up at her. "What?"

  "What about the kids?"

  He straightened up, a puzzled look on his face.

  "What kids?"

  She gestured to the back, a short, angry, staccato gesture. "There are kids back there you've been virtually terrorizing for the past few hours. The ones who're now in tears and shaking and holding on to their parents. Is this how you avenge Melinda's death? Your little girl was terrorized, tortured, and murdered. You're threatening to do the same to these kids."

  She'd been trying to spark a small explosion, and she'd finally succeeded.

  "Shut up! Goddam you, just shut the hell up!" he snarled at her.

  "How dare you compare a brief inconvenience for anyone back there to what Lumin did?" His eyes were wide with anger, his left hand gripping the glareshield for control. "You want to talk about kids? Let's talk about kids! This one, for instance!" He reached in his shirt pocket and removed something, slapping it down on the center console. Kat looked at the pretty face of a smiling young girl.

  "Melinda?" she asked.

  He nodded. "That's the kid I care about. Besides, how the hell do you know whether there're any kids back there?"

  Kat kept her voice low and steady. "Because it's true, and you know it.

  To get Melinda's killer, you've blinded yourself to the effects on all those people, and blinded yourself to the effect on the kids-the children just like Melinda."

  Ken replaced the picture in his pocket and shook his head violently.

  "You're guessing!"

  "Call your flight attendants. I assume they're still back there somewhere.

  Go ahead, Ken. Call them. Ask them. Find out!"

  He straightened up, glowering at her, and slammed the palm of his hand into the padded edge of the glareshield, causing Kat to wince.

  "Dammit, Kat, don't push me too far! I forced you in here to break Bostich, not to take over. You're on thin ice here."

  She nodded, trying to keep the butterflies in check.

  "I know, Ken. You've got all the cards. You've got a bomb and you've got a gun, I already know that. You're willing to take my life to get what you want, and kill everyone aboard. But I also know what you're trying to accomplish here, and right now you're embarrassed that you didn't think about the kids, and you know I'm right, and one more--"

  "That's ENOUGH!" he yelled in her face.

  "NO!" she yelled back, eyes flaring. "It's not enough! You don't need the kids aboard to get this done. Ken? Ken, listen to me! The FBI needs progress in the form of released passengers, and those kids back there need off of this nightmare. Don't you think they're terrified watching their parents being scared? Don't you think they can understand what it means when the pilot gets on the P.A. and threatens to blow them up?"

  She saw him transfer the small electronic trigger to his right hand, his finger carefully sliding onto the depressed button, his left hand disappearing toward his map case. The flash of chrome from the barrel of the deputy's gun caught her by surprise. He pulled it out and looked at her, breathing hard, his jaw set, his eyes aflame. Kat felt her heart racing as she watched the barrel, expecting it to descend toward her accompanied by the sound of the hammer clicking in place.

  Instead, Ken Wolfe turned the barrel to the side until it was pointed at his own temple. His index finger slid to the trigger.

  "Ken, NO!" Her eyes dropped to the trigger device in his right hand.

  "Kat..." he closed his eyes briefly then opened them and swallowed hard. "Maybe I should finish it here and now. If I can't get Bostich and I can't get Lumin, then I might as well. I'm not going to live past today, anyway."

  "Ken, Jeez, at least defuse the bomb first?

  He glanced down at the trigger and nodded.

  A burst of conflicting thoughts ricocheted through her head. Letting him defuse the bomb and shoot himself would end it, but what of Bostich and Lumin? If she talked him out of it, would she be perpetuating the hijacking? Would she be almost an accessory? Would she be responsible if something terrible happened later?

  She almost missed the fact that he was lowering the gun, his finger off the trigger, saving her from the decision.

  Kat took a deep breath. "Ken, defuse the bomb before your finger slips and you kill us all. Let the passengers out, and then let me question Bostich here, on the ground."

  He paused, his eyes on hers. "Kat, don't--"

  "Don't what, Ken?" she asked quietly. "Don't interfere? Come on.

  You know you miscalculated about the kids. Let them off. Let that poor man's pregnant wife off, and put that gun back in your case. You can't even consider shooting
yourself until this is concluded, and you need to defuse that damn bomb. Suppose you tripped and dropped the trigger?"