Hijacking of Flight 100: Terror at 600 miles per hour

by C. J. Stott

  He turned the radio knob searching for more facts or any information about the flight. He did not like the fact his brother had taken anyone hostage. There was not supposed to be any violence or injuries.

  They had a simple plan, “Hijack the plane to Havana. Put on the six extra bags. The plane flies back to Miami. Offload the six suitcases. End of story.”

  He continued to roll the knob to hear more about the hijacking.

  Suddenly his hand froze on the dial, “This unconfirmed report just in that the hijacker has shot one of the pilots. We now take you to Jim Key in Charleston.”

  Juan could not move. He was paralyzed. The only movement in his car came from his scared shallow breathing.

  A deep sonorous voice filled the inside of Juan’s car, “Jim Key here in Charleston. We have a listener who says he monitors the FAA Air Traffic Control emergency frequencies. He called us several minutes ago to report the hijacked aircraft transmitted on an emergency frequency that the hijacker had fired shots in the cockpit.

  “We are not certain if the pilot had been shot, or the hijacker was shooting at the pilots. We have contacted the FAA at the Charleston International Airport. They declined to comment.”

  Waves of nausea hit him. He was shaking. He and his brother were the ones they were talking about. There was no way he could turn the aircraft back toward New York. Guerillmo had gone too far. They were all going to be caught, arrested and go to jail. What if someone dies? They could get life sentences or even the electric chair.

  The radio continued to spew more bad news, “In a phone interview with the FAA in Washington, D. C. all the Federal Aviation Administration would say was that the aircraft was proceeding to Havana. They would neither confirm nor deny a shooting had occurred on aircraft. Nor would they comment about unfounded reports that indicated the aircraft, passengers or crew were in any immediate danger. When the FAA was asked to comment on this emergency transmission about a shooting, they again declined comment. They did say other federal agencies had been alerted to the situation.”

  Juan could not believe what he was hearing. This was not the way it was supposed to happen.

  The radio station newsreader continued, “When asked if this included the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the FAA only would say that in situations like this many federal agencies are routinely alerted. In every case, that included the FBI.”

  Juan twisted in his seat. He wanted to get away. He wanted to undo what he and his brothers had done. It was much like trying to recall a bullet after the trigger has been pulled.

  He thought, “It’s too late. Too late. Too late.”

  Chapter 68

  18:40 Central Standard Time

  Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

  “Clifton, please.”

  “Who may I say is calling?”

  “Ron Castle.”

  Ed James stuttered, “The, the Ron Castle? Ronald D. Castle? The Administrator? The head of the FAA?”

  “Yes. Get me Clifton. Now.”

  Thirty seconds passed, “Special Agent Clifton here.”

  “Hi, Dick. Any news on our 747 hijacking?”

  “John. John is that you?” He laughed. “You shook the place up telling them it was Castle. My staffer, Ed James, damn near wet his pants racing in here to tell me Ronald Castle was on the phone.” He let out another rolling laugh, then said, “Whatever works.”

  “Well John, here is the latest information we have. About ten minutes ago, 100 called the Washington ATC Center and said they were having severe control problems and could not maintain a specific altitude. They requested a block altitude and requested that all other aircraft be cleared away from their southerly track.”

  “Did they say anything about a shooting? Anything about one of the pilots being shot?”

  “I don’t have the transcript here yet. Washington Center is going to send it to me. But, they did indicate the hijacker was in the cockpit, armed with a pistol. They also said the Flight Engineer had been hurt. Other than that, I don’t have any more specifics, except the flight seems to generally be holding their assigned heading toward Havana.”

  “What do you have in mind as far as assistance goes for them?”

  “Well, you know, all the standard protocols. Clear the airways, give them preferential treatment, coordinate with the FBI and State. Basically, whatever they need, they get.”

  “We have not heard from them for nearly an hour. Our Dispatcher Fielding tried to contact you, but couldn’t get through. Did you ever get the message that he had called you back?”

  Clifton looked directly at Ed James. “No. No one told me your dispatcher was on the line. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll set up an open line with him in New York. I’ll call him right now and then we’ll keep the line open as long as the hijacking is ongoing.”

  “That’s great. At least we’ll have current information about the status of our aircraft. Thanks again for the help Dick. I’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”

  “Take care.” He chuckled again, “Ron Castle. That’s great.”

  Clifton hung up the phone and stared coolly at Ed James shaking his head slowly from side to side.

  “What?”

  Clifton was so irritated with his assistant, he was unable to speak. He turn his back and strode from the conference room, muttering to himself under his breath.

  When Clifton terminated the call, he quickly redialed Flight Dispatch. “This is John Batchelor, may I speak to Lazlo Fielding?”

  “Just a moment, sir. I’ll get him for you.”

  Becky put the incoming call on hold and said, “Mr. Fielding, Mr. Batchelor is on line six for you.”

  Fielding thanked her, lit a cigarette, punched the blinking light on his telephone console and said, “Yes, John. What did you find out from the FAA?”

  “I found that Flight 100 is in serious trouble. The hijacker has gained access to the cockpit. They confirmed the report about a shooting.

  Lazlo swore out loud in German, “Gott Verdammt.”

  “Clifton said they had a report that the Flight Engineer had been injured. But the FAA didn’t know if he had been shot, or exactly what happened. They only know that he had been injured, presumably by the hijacker.”

  Fielding stubbed his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. His Germanic accent thickened when he said, “Vell dot iz bat news. I must contact zem. I viss someone were here to make the decision for me.”

  “Lazlo if it’ll help, I’m telling you to contact them. I need to know what is going on with the flight. I also want to find out where they are going to land. I also need an estimated time of arrival for them. On the strength of that, call them.”

  “I vill do it. Give me da telephone numbers ver you can be reached.”

  Batchelor gave him three numbers. His home number, the number of a local diner where he would be for the next hour, and his girlfriend’s home number, “If you can’t find me, leave a message with Sandy.”

  He ended the conversation. “Clifton is going to call you and set up an open line between dispatch and Oklahoma City. That way you both will have open communication capability regarding the status of 100.”

  Slowly, Lazlo’s accent thinned. “This is excellent. Thank you for your help and for your authorization to call the flight. I vill let you know vat we find vin I talk to da captain.”

  Fielding considered what he wanted to say in the message to be sent to 100. He made a mental list. He needed a position report. The telephone link with the FAA would allow him to follow the flight’s progress via telephone. He needed a planned destination if the flight was going to divert to somewhere else other than Havana. He also needed the fuel remaining when he talked to them. This would allow him to provide very accurate computer flight plans for 100. Ultimately, he wanted to know the crew, passengers and aircraft were going to be all right.

  Chapter 69

  19:01 Eastern Standard Time

  John F. Kennedy International Airport

 
; After he wrote his list of questions, then called his assistant, “Becky, I want you to SELCAL 100, their code is DHAM, Delta Hotel Alpha Mike. Try them on the Eastern Region ARINC sector frequency. If they don’t answer, have ARINC start a sweep broadcast of all their frequencies. Maybe in the pressure of the hijacking, they forgot to switch to the correct frequency.”

  Becky left with the information. She walked to the radio rack in the adjacent room. She closed the door and could hear electronic humming as she sat at a keyboard. She took a deep breath and entered, [FLT 100] [B-747-200] [VHF] [DHAM] [131.6] and pressed the send key. An amber XMITTER light flashed three times. She waited for about thirty seconds and pressed the send key again.

  For the second time the amber XMITTER light flashed three times. Becky looked through the glass window and across the room at Fielding. He seemed to be sitting in his chair, waiting patiently. He simply smoked and then turned and looked at her. She gave him a quizzical look and shrugged her shoulders. Lazlo waved at her, as if to motion her to proceed with the next step. Becky returned to the radio rack.

  Chapter 70

  19:02 Central Standard Time

  Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

  This time she entered, [FLT 100] [B-747-200] [VHF] [DHAM] [SCAN ALL]. She pressed the send key for the third time. The XMITTER light flashed an extended series of the blinks. After less than a minute, she pressed the send key again. Either 100 was not tuned to any of the assigned frequencies. Or, they were unable to answer the SELCAL.

  Dick Clifton asked Ed James to set up the open-line conference call for him. After the connection was established, Clifton made it painfully clear to Ed James that he was solely responsible for maintaining this open connection link. He added if the connection were broken for any reason, Ed James would find himself working as a Flight Service Station clerk in Bemidji, Minnesota, at pay grade of GS-6, for the rest of his career with the FAA. Within less than five minutes, an open connection was operating between the FAA in Oklahoma City and JFK Dispatch at John F. Kennedy International Airport.

  Ed James said, “Mr. Fielding is on the line, Mr. Clifton.”

  “Mr. Fielding. Clifton here, I’m sorry about the mix-up on the telephone. I have instructed my people to keep this line open as long as the hijack is in progress. Please ask your people to not break the connection.”

  They discussed the specifics of Flight 100 and then Clifton added, “The last position for 100 was just south Charleston, West Virginia and from what the ATC boys say, the flight’s ground speed has dropped way off, either from one hell of a headwind, or for mechanical reasons.’“

  Fielding thanked him and added that, he too, was going to try to contact the flight. When he concluded his conversation with Clifton, he was careful when he placed his telephone handset on the desk by the cradle. He did not want to break the connection. To assure that, he pressed the hold key only after he pressed the conference button. Fielding was uncomfortable with the new phone system and quietly wished he had his old black AT&T desk phone back.

  Chapter 71

  18:30 Central Standard Time

  Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

  The voice on the phone was officious and gruff. “Let me speak to Clifton.”

  Ed James answered with mock sincerity, in a lilting voice, “Who may I say is calling, please?”

  “Ron Castle.”

  James tone changed to one of concerned fear, “Oh, Yes Sir. Oh, Mr. Castle, Sir. Good to talk to you again Sir. I’ll get him for you right away.”

  For the second time today, Ed James had spoken with the Administrator of the FAA and was frenzied as he tried to find his boss. He located Clifton coming back from the supply room, loaded down with a large map and a stack of yellow legal tablets.

  “Dick, Mr. Ronald Castle is on the phone again for you.” Breathlessly he added, “He’s on hold and should not be kept waiting. He sounded impatient. He’s on line 3. Here, let me take those pads. Hurry. He’s waiting and sounded like he was angry.”

  “Right, Ed. I’ll get to him in a minute.” Clifton knew the call was from Batchelor. Dick knew Batchelor had again used the name of the Administrator to cut through some of the bureaucratic nonsense that fuels the FAA.

  Clifton put the maps and legal tablets down. Then slowly walked to the desktop call console in the outer office. He punched the flashing light on the console and said, “Security Branch here. What in the hell do you want, now?” Clifton could hardly conceal his amusement as he thought that he would catch Batchelor off guard. Ed James was shocked by his boss’ lack of protocol.

  The voice on the other end of the line was not amused, “Who the hell am I speaking to?” Dick Clifton knew instantly that he had made a huge mistake. The voice continued, “This is Ronald Castle and I don’t find your attitude to be the kind of thing we like to foster here at the FAA.”

  “Is that you, Clifton?”

  Dick felt a coolness drift over him as he blinked and looked at Ed James, who stared at him with disbelief written on his face.

  Clifton did the only sensible thing he could, “I am sorry, Mr. Castle. I just received a call from someone who used your name and thought you were that person calling back. Please accept my apology, Sir.”

  Castle’s interest was aroused. “Who was the individual impersonating me? Was he an Agency employee? What is his name?”

  “He’s not an agency employee.” He paused, “I’d rather not say, sir. It was not an impersonation, just sort of a joke.”

  “Tell your friend that I take a dim personal view of anyone who uses my name, either inside or outside this Agency.”

  Dick Clifton allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief as he said, “Yes, Sir. I’ll tell him. Now. Sir, what can I do for you?”

  Castle launched into a tirade against the Washington press corps, “The God damned press have been all over my ass about this hijacking. There seems to be a persistent rumor that one of the pilots has been shot. Quite frankly, I’m in the dark on this.”

  Clifton said nothing as he waited for the chief administrator to either continue or wind down.

  Castle paused for several seconds, then said, “I need a briefing in case I have to make a statement.”

  Clifton’s response was automatic. “Yes sir, I’ll bring you up to speed immediately.”

  Again Castle paused before continuing, “I just got a call from the White House Chief of Staff’s office. They want to know what the FAA is doing about saving the lives of those people on the hijacked flight.”

  Clifton could easily understand the pressure Castle had experienced. “I hate it when they call, especially when I have not been briefed on the situation.” With each syllable his voice got louder, until now he was shouting at Clifton, “What can you tell me about this hijacking and how is it different from all the rest?”

  Clifton wanted to say that no two hijackings were the same. However, giving careful consideration to how he had answered the question, he said, “First of all. There was a radio communication from the flight that the hijacker had gained access to the cockpit and fired one or more shots.”

  Castle said nothing.

  “There also was a report the Second Officer, the Flight Engineer, had been injured.”

  “Was that injury from a gun shot wound?”

  “We don’t have that information at this time.”

  Clifton continued, “The ATC controllers in the Washington Center are giving 100 all the support they can. Unimpeded clearances. Keeping the airspace around and ahead of their aircraft free all traffic. We are coordinating with the FBI and the airline has reached out to State. Other than that, Sir, that is all the information I have.”

  “Well, that’s not good enough.”

  Clifton squirmed as Castle continued, “Damn it all to hell. I’m being made to look like a horse’s ass by the press. I want you to contact that flight immediately. Find out what the hell is going on.” His voice rose both in volume and tone, “In fact, I want you to patch me into that flight. I w
ant to talk with the pilots.”

  Clifton knew his response could either be a career enhancement or career ending moment. He said, “I, we, don’t have the capability to patch you into the flight.”

  Castle considered that for a moment and said, “Dammit all to hell. I should be able to talk to any flight under FAA jurisdiction. Are you sure I can’t do that?”

  “Yes Sir. I mean, no Sir. We just don’t have that capability. I can’t even talk to the flight crew directly. I have to rely on the section chief at the ATC center that’s working the flight.”

  “How soon will you have more information?”

  “As soon as we finish this conversation, I will contact the ATC folks and get an update from them for you.”

  Somewhat mollified, “All right, then. I want you to get back to me at my private number and tell me what those pilots told you.”

  “Very good, sir. Except for two things.”

  “What’s that, Clifton?”

  “Remember, I don’t have any way to talk to the flight directly. The best I can do is call the Center sector that is working the flight and talk to the controlling supervisor.”

  Castle didn’t like that answer as he cleared his throat, “Harrumph.”

  “Also sir, I don’t have your private number.”

  Castle laughed, perhaps a little too lightly, and then gave Clifton the number. “I hope you are better suited at following this hijacking, than you are at answering your damn phone.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Castle ended the conversation, “Don’t let me down on this, Clifton. I want full, up to the minute, briefings as this thing continues develop.” Castle hung up.