‘I’m sorry, sir. Passengers are not allowed on the flight deck.’ He raised his eyes to the visitor’s face, his voice very English. Very correct. ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to …’
The young co-pilot looked round in mild curiosity as the captain’s voice petered out in a gasp.
‘Keep your hands in sight and don’t touch anything,’ Ray grated, swinging his gun in an arc between the two men.
Captain Udeh’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to grasp the situation. The co-pilot sat stunned, twisted awkwardly in his seat like a cripple in a wheelchair looking backwards. The whites of his eyes grew huge in his black face and he gaped uncomprehendingly at Ray.
‘What … what …’ stuttered Udeh, trying to string some words together. ‘What are you doing, sir?’ Force of habit maintained his politeness.
‘I’m taking over this plane, that’s what I’m doing. Now turn round and face away from me. You too!’ He almost had to tap the co-pilot on the head. ‘Face forward and keep your hands away from any buttons and switches – right?’
‘What do you intend to do?’ This time Udeh dropped his habitual ‘sir’ as he turned to face Ray again.
‘I’ve already done it!’ Ray pushed the gun into Udeh’s face. ‘You’ve just been hijacked. Now face the fucking front!’ He noisily cocked the automatic. ‘Another question … one single move I don’t like … and you are one dead pilot!’ Ray warned. ‘I won’t tell you again.’
Captain Udeh tried to form a reply, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to come to terms with this sudden nightmare. His co-pilot looked on, naked fear in his staring eyes and gaping mouth.
Udeh swallowed. He knew that he must regain full control of himself; acutely aware that the safety of his passengers depended on him.
‘I will do as you ask.’ His voice was pitched a little higher than usual, but he sounded reasonably calm. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Ray checked the compass heading on the instrument panel, noting that the course was only two degrees out from the one he had plotted on the Michelin road map.
‘Fly one-three-four,’ he instructed.
Captain Udeh took the control column in both hands and settled down to flying his plane. ‘One-three-four,’ he repeated, stretching a hand forward in a natural movement towards a bank of switches, one of which would transmit a hijack in progress signal. He felt the cold touch of the gun’s muzzle on the flesh at the back of his neck.
‘Keep your hands on the control column,’ Ray threatened. ‘I told you, no switches, no buttons.’
‘I must operate the ailerons.’ Udeh’s voice sounded almost convincing. But the gun nudged harder, making his head jerk forward.
‘And you don’t operate the ailerons with that switch,’ Ray told him. ‘So any more of your “operating the aileron” shit and I’ll blow your fucking head off. Now get your hand on that yoke and alter course.’ The gun jabbed emphatically into Udeh’s neck.
‘Yes. I understand.’ Udeh nodded, faster this time, and moved the column in a gentle turn. ‘One-three-four,’ he called out as the compass needle swung over two degrees.
Ray had his map out and held it in front of the pilot. He pointed to the cross he had pencilled in about one quarter of the way along the line between Kumasi and Accra. ‘That’s your course change,’ he ordered. ‘When you reach this point you’ll turn onto a heading of two-five-three.’ He looked at the cabin clock, then at the airspeed indicator. ‘I estimate about seven … eight minutes. Just carry out my orders and everything will be okay. Your aircraft and its passengers will be safe as long as you do as you are told. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes. I understand.’
‘And you?’ Ray spoke to the young co-pilot. ‘Do you understand?’
The man’s tightly curled head nodded rapidly in agreement. ‘Yes, suh. I understand. I make no trouble.’ Nerves had reduced his speech to ‘bush’ English.
‘Right then. We should all get along fine. Now, Captain …’ Ray touched the man’s neck with the gun barrel and positioned himself where he could see all that was going on.
Colin reached for the canvas holdall, using his body as a shield to place it on the window seat. He withdrew the two smaller duffle bags and loosened the rope ties. From the first one he withdrew a packet of plastic zip-tapes and a polythene bag containing half a dozen black hoods, carefully laying them out on Ray’s vacant seat and covering them with a magazine. From the other duffle, he withdrew three tightly wrapped bundles, checking them for his personal mark before unfolding his own package to reveal a one-piece jump suit, a cyclist’s helmet and swimming goggles bulging out from one of its many zip-up pockets.
Unobtrusively, he folded down the dark-coloured material and began to step into the legs of his jump suit, gradually working the material under his backside and over his shoulders until he could slip his arms into the sleeves and pull the long zip halfway up his chest. From a side pocket he extracted a pair of ladies’ fine leather gloves and held them ready in his hands. Neither of the two passengers across the aisle so much as glanced at him. Finally he took his weapon from his belt and slipped it into another of the large zip pockets. Then he pulled back an elasticated cuff and looked at his watch. They had been airborne for fifteen minutes. He tore open the packet of zip-tapes and stuffed them into a breast pocket, ready to pass them to Ray. Behind him he could hear a subdued murmuring as passengers chatted, unaware of the drama already unfolding. A stewardess came by bearing a coffee tray for the flight deck, her smile tailing off as she took in Colin’s clothing. Faint creases were beginning to etch lines around her eyes as she disappeared into the cockpit.
Inside the cockpit the stewardess jerked to a halt, gasping in shock, unaware of the coffee cups flying over the head of the co-pilot. Ray thrust out a hand, stopping her from falling forward as she appeared to almost faint. The co-pilot moaned in pain, his hand raised to the back of his neck where the hot coffee had scalded him and stained his immaculate white shirt a muddy brown.
‘Don’t move!’ Ray’s voice was harsh. ‘Don’t anyone fucking move! Try anything and she gets it!’ He put the onus on the pilot to behave. ‘One minute to course change.’ Captain Udeh’s voice sounded out, an oasis of calmness in the highly charged atmosphere.
‘Keep it like that, Captain,’ Ray warned. ‘Keep it cool and no one gets hurt.’
‘I will do exactly as you say,’ Udeh replied earnestly. ‘There is no need for violence. But if you are hijacking this aircraft … what is your final destination? This aircraft has only a short range and the course you have given me will take us out over the ocean.’
‘Just do as you’re told,’ Ray replied. ‘I know where we’re going, that’s all you need to know.’
‘I’m beginning the turn … now.’ Captain Udeh tilted the control column to his right.
‘Keep it gentle – rate three.’
Udeh’s earlier suspicions were confirmed by Ray’s order. The man was obviously a pilot himself.
‘And when you’re on 253 I want 130 knots at 3000 feet. Do you understand me?’
‘Course 253. 130 knots at 3000 feet,’ Udeh chanted back at him.
‘And then engage the autopilot.’ The revolver tapped the back of the man’s head, demanding obedience.
Colin felt the gentle turn because he was waiting for it and looked back along the cabin. No one seemed to have noticed anything amiss. He struggled to pull a thin piece of black nylon cloth from his jacket pocket and spread a hooded mask across his knees, carefully rolling its bottom edge into a thick hem so he wouldn’t fumble when he slipped it over his head. He pulled on the gloves, rubbing the backs of his hands to draw the fine leather skin-tight and watched the cockpit door. Then he saw the handle turn.
As soon as he caught sight of the pilot’s drawn face, Colin slipped the black hood over his head and gave the hem a tug to settle it round his neck. Ready, he drew his gun and rose to his feet, a terrifying figure in his sinister black
outfit as he stepped forward to push his weapon into the pilot’s chest. Ray grabbed the zip-tapes as he darted by, storming up the aisle toward the soldiers, neither of whom realised anything was amiss until he suddenly loomed over them, thrusting a huge automatic pistol into their faces.
‘Don’t move! Don’t move a fucking inch!’ Ray grated the words out hoarsely. There was a smooth metallic sliding sound as both soldiers cocked their guns, pushing high-velocity 9mm shells into the breeches of their weapons. Behind them, Doc rose from his seat and stepped quietly into the aisle.
The sergeant glared grimly at Ray and trained his weapon on his heart. Beside him, Private Akempo licked his lips in indecision as the enormous barrel of the revolver settled its aim on his head. First trigger pressure had been taken up and he knew that even if he fired first, reflex action would cause the madman’s weapon to blast him into eternity. The sergeant also held his fire, but for a different reason. He knew what a burst of high-velocity machine gun bullets could do to the flimsy structure of a passenger plane. And there were civilians well within his field of fire. His thumb slid forward, pushing his fire-selector to single shot mode. At least now there would be no lethal spray of bullets mowing down innocent people. He would make his single shots count.
‘Don’t even think about it, Sarge,’ Ray aimed his words at the sergeant but kept his gun trained on the private.
‘Put down your weapon or you will force me to kill you.’ The sergeant jerked his gun, as if to draw attention to it. But he had already waited too long.
‘No!’ Ray kept his eyes on the private, his pistol clamped in the two-handed marksman’s grip. ‘You shoot – he dies.’ He knew this responsibility would weigh heavily with the sergeant.
‘He is a soldier.’ The sergeant ignored the huge beads of sweat oozing from Private Akempo’s forehead. ‘He is prepared to die.’
‘And are you prepared to let innocent civilians die too?’ Ray’s eyes flashed and he tossed a nod backwards, more eloquent than words.
The sergeant’s eyes flicked beyond Ray and locked onto the huddled crew members being threatened by a second masked gunman hiding unashamedly behind the clutch of bodies.
‘Please!’ The captain’s voice entreated. ‘You must do nothing to endanger the safety of the aircraft.’
Stunned passengers tore their eyes away from the masked figure menacing the soldiers and were shocked to see the dishevelled crew gathered in front of the cockpit door. A sobbing stewardess had an automatic pistol held against her head by a second masked figure.
‘Please …’ The captain spoke into the forward telephone link, allowing his voice to be heard by everyone on the plane. ‘I must ask you to pay attention to me.’ Heads at the rear of the plane lifted, some of them unaware until now that anything untoward was going on. ‘The aircraft has been taken over … hijacked! I must ask you to follow any instructions issued by the hijackers immediately.’
‘You see,’ Ray told the sergeant, ‘we have nothing to lose now. You shoot me, I shoot him and my partner shoots the pilot. That way everybody gets to die. Everybody!’ he emphasised. ‘So either lay down your weapon, or go ahead and shoot.’ This time he stared directly into the sergeant’s face, his iron-grey eyes implacable in the dark holes of his mask.
There was an unbelieving hush as the passengers turned to look at one another in amazement. A man in the rear of the cabin rose to his feet and stepped into the aisle.
‘I say! This is prepos …’
His words were suddenly cut off as Doc’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder from behind and thrust him back into his seat.
‘Shut up!’ A masked face glared down at him. ‘Just sit on your fucking arse, mister, or you’ll be getting some of this.’ Doc’s gun jabbed out. ‘Do as you’re told, all of you.’ He swung his gun at the other shocked passengers, who gaped in bewilderment at the appearance of yet another masked and armed figure.
‘Yes,’ Ray addressed the sergeant again. ‘There are more of us.’ His gun jerked. ‘Put down your gun or the killing starts now.’
The sergeant licked his lips. At his side, Private Akempo was rigid in the fire position, but not rigid in readiness – a paralysis of fear held him tight in its grasp. He knew that the threat from the masked man was all too real.
‘Sergeant!’ the pilot shouted. ‘I am in command of this aircraft and I order you to put down your weapons. I am the captain and I accept full responsibility for this decision. Put your weapons down … Now!’
For a moment it seemed that the sergeant would defy him, then his body sagged along with the muzzle of his gun.
‘Use your left hand,’ Ray instructed. ‘Take your weapon by the barrel and place it on the floor in front of you.’ He waited until both soldiers had complied with his order. ‘Now kick them towards me. Steady now …’ he warned, as both men reluctantly obeyed. Quickly he scooped up one of the machine guns before shoving his own weapon into his belt and ordering them to stand up and turn around. In moments their wrists were securely zip-taped and he was draping black hoods over their heads before allowing them to sit down again, their effectiveness totally neutralised.
‘I must ask all of you to remain seated,’ the captain pleaded. ‘Acts of violence will only endanger the safety of the aircraft and the lives of all of us on board.’
His words had an immediate sobering effect on the passengers. A lone voice asked: ‘But where are they taking us?’
Captain Udeh turned to the hooded figure behind him before replying. ‘I am afraid I do not yet know that, gentlemen. No doubt our destination will be revealed in due course. In the meantime I must insist that you offer no resistance to these armed men. Any such action can lead only to catastrophe.’
The warning delivered, Colin shepherded his three captives along the aisle. ‘And no funny stuff,’ he warned. ‘I’m right behind you.’ He forced the crew the length of the cabin, holding them at gunpoint as Doc hurried forward to assist Ray in zipping the soldiers’ ankles together. After the soldiers had been dealt with, the protesting pilot and co-pilot were quickly given the same zip-tape treatment and pushed into a small galley at the rear of the plane, the second stewardess being dragged from her hiding place to make room for them. Both terrified girls were only too happy to be bundled into the toilet, the door clicking over to ‘Engaged’ as they locked themselves inside.
Ray tapped urgently at his wristwatch, speaking staccato fashion. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’m going forward to the cockpit now to get used to the plane. I’ll call out the approach times at intervals as we get closer. Okay?’ He was already moving towards the cockpit door.
‘Right,’ Colin’s hooded head nodded after him. ‘Everything’s gone well so far. But don’t forget the reminder to this lot,’ he jerked his head at the craning passengers. ‘We don’t want any of them getting ideas.’
Ray’s hand was lifted in understanding as he hurried forward, stopping only to collect his suitcase and jumpsuit from Colin’s seat before disappearing inside the cockpit.
Working fast, Colin and Doc carried their own luggage and the second machine gun to the rear of the plane as the Tannoy crackled into life.
‘Attention! Attention everyone!’ The passengers jerked their eyes away from the activity in the cabin and looked towards the cockpit, like children waiting to see a Punch and Judy show. There was plenty of punch for them, even if it was only vocal. ‘We have taken over the aircraft. I repeat. We have taken over the aircraft.’ Ray’s voice introduced an agreed speech. ‘You will all remain seated and make no attempt to interfere with anyone or anything going on in the cabin beside you. We are well armed and will have no hesitation is using our weapons if we are provoked. For your own sakes do nothing to make any further violence necessary. Remember, we have nothing to lose. If you all remain calm and stay seated no harm will come to you, and the captain will be back in control in thirty minutes.’ The Tannoy clicked off to a suddenly vociferous audience as the passengers discussed their plight.<
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At the rear of the plane Doc scrambled into his jumpsuit and donned the leather crash helmet. While he was doing this, Colin opened up both suitcases to expose the bulky parachute equipment. From a pocket on the underside of each lid he extracted a heavy canvas sack, shaking both of them out to show a line of brass rings fitted neatly round their wide necks. Each sack had a nylon drawstring snaking through the brass eyelets, their ends securely spliced on to heavy metal D-rings.
‘Ten minutes! Ten minutes to target!’ The speakers rapped out the first of Ray’s time checks.
*
Bert looked anxiously at the sky above Uturri, trying to visualise the drop. He still had strong misgivings about Colin making the jump but the decision had been made and all he could do now was get ready for the aircraft to appear. Face puckered with concern, he began setting things into position, dragging the bales of hessian from their hiding place and spreading them evenly along the length of the trenches Colin had so painstakingly dug. Then he quickly began saturating the material in a heavy mixture of oil and petrol from the store of five-gallon containers Colin had secreted in the village. When he was done he looked at his watch: if the plane had left on time and Ray’s estimates were accurate, he should only have about fifteen minutes to wait. He looked anxiously up at the sky again, his thoughts revolving around one thing: Jesus, he repeated to himself, I wonder what’s going on up there?
*
Colin and Doc began manhandling the bullion boxes to the rear of the plane with Ray’s one-minute reminders urging them on.
As each sack received its quota of ten boxes their drawstrings were pulled tight and the laden sacks, too heavy and unwieldy to lift, were dragged over to the door of the plane where a final push would despatch them earthwards. Now the duffle bags were emptied to reveal the olive green oblongs of United States Army emergency parachutes. The many dry runs Doc had practised in Bert’s living room now paid dividends as he efficiently connected the D-rings to the harness, Colin following his instructions as they both drew sweat and panted under the pressure and speed of the work.
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