Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt Read online

  “Mr. Logan? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, Amanda. You just took me by surprise.”

  “We’d like you to take a different flight, just in case.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! If Cheetah’s on this flight, then I have a chance to discover him. I just saw some familiar Arabs get on. Do you know which of our officials are also flying?”

  “Just you.”

  Logan felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He had not even considered the possibility that he might be the target. He never viewed himself as being important enough for the likes of the Cheetah! Should he change his flight? Though his training had covered some field procedures, he certainly did not possess the training that would be required to go up against a man of this caliber.

  “No, I think I’ll stay on the flight.”

  “We can’t get agents there in time to join you for the flight, but we will have them on the ground waiting for you when you arrive.”

  Logan hung up the phone and glanced toward the gate. He thought he caught a glimpse of a swarthy, middle-eastern man enter through the jetwalk’s emergency exit. Sweat broke out across his forehead and palms. He might have just imagined it, but regardless, he was going to have to get ahold of himself. Maybe he should reconsider his decision to take this flight.

  He picked up his overnight bag and proceeded down the jetwalk to the airplane. Once inside, he moved slowly down the aisle, searching the eyes of the different passengers. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, and the cabin seemed unusually quiet. Toward the back, the group of Arabs he’d noticed earlier were sitting partially spread out. The tall one was familiar. Maybe he was the Cheetah.

  As Logan placed his bag in the overhead compartment, he recognized the man sitting across from him as being the one he thought he saw enter through the emergency exit. “I believe you have my seat.”

  The man pulled out his ticket and showed him the seat assignment. It all looked in order.

  Logan pulled out his ticket to look at it again. “Oh, my mistake.” He smiled and sat down.

  His name was Kalven, and he tried to burn that name and face into his mind. He tried not to look that way again. Where had he seen that tall Arab in the back before?

  Concorde Flight 1430

  London, Great Britain to Tel Aviv, Israel

  Having left London, the Concorde quickly climbed to sixty thousand feet. It was hard to imagine just how fast a thousand miles per hour is. You could cross a quarter of a mile in under a second!

  Rob sat next to Marie holding Rebekah, who had been sleeping since they left the ground an hour ago. David sat by the window so he could see out, while Michael, seated between his brother and mother, was asleep also.

  Rob smiled at Marie and lifted his diet soda into the air. She smiled back and lifted her juice up to toast with him. “So tell me, just what are we toasting?”

  “The theory, of course.”

  “Oh, yes, the little theory.”

  “The little theory? I’ll have you know that my little theory is what made all this possible.”

  “Yes, yes, honey. I was just teasing. I didn’t know I was going to hit a tender spot with you. You must be feeling better about things, then.”

  “Well, like you said, there’s no point in worrying. I want us to enjoy this vacation.”

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” She leaned over and kissed him.

  He smiled again. “Now where is my little diskette?”

  Marie patted her purse. “Right here by my heart. Don’t worry, love. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  The flight attendants had finished serving lunch and were now gathered into a front cabin where those passengers closest could hear them giggling about something. Rob looked around at the rest of the passengers: some businessmen with their laptops, a couple of rabbis, a television news crew, a group of young girls, several American and British couples, a few Israeli army officers, and many other Jewish and Arab passengers. Just the standard crowd, he concluded as he got up to go to the restroom.

  As he stood, he handed Rebekah to his wife, hoping that she wouldn’t awaken. It was going to be interesting to see how their children would hold up on this trip.

  “We are now passing over the Mediterranean,” the captain’s voice boomed over the intercom. “We are on schedule and should be landing in one hour.”

  Rob made his way to a small compartment in the front of the plane through which the restroom was located. Inside the compartment were two flight attendants busily talking about the dates they had been on the night before. He crossed the cabin, being careful to not interrupt their conversation, and placed his hand on the latch to the bathroom.

  Suddenly, a loud, thickly-accented voice roared from the passenger cabin. “Everyone sit down! We are seizing this airplane!”

  Rob glanced around quickly to find someplace to hide. The flight attendant’s head turned toward the door, displaying both fear and surprise. The restroom, he realized, would be the first place they would come to look, but opposite him in the corner was a door. A closet, perhaps? He rushed past the flight attendants and jerked the door open. It was full of blankets and pillows, so he forced himself in, closing the door behind him.

  As the door closed, he noticed one of the flight attendants watching him as she hurried toward the passenger cabin. He closed the door, being careful not to latch it, and squeezed under the fabric. He didn’t know what he hoped he could accomplish by hiding, but he knew he had more of a chance to do something if the need arose than the others would.

  Nancy Moore fit easily into her stereotypical role as lead flight attendant. Her sinewy African-American body and long legs turned many heads when she walked by. Recently divorced following twelve years of marriage, she found herself thinking of her six-year-old son. He had been living with his father since her flight schedule took her away from home for days at a time.

  She had loved only one man, and she married him -- her high school sweetheart. He chose to pursue a career in law while she became a flight attendant. Over the years, they grew more distant and apart. Her husband had made a life of his own that left no room for her.

  Having had had hijack training, she knew that the best thing to do in a situation like this is to cooperate. For now, she knew she needed to keep the other flight attendants calm. It would not be too difficult to feel protective toward them. Despite how hard she tried to fit in on the same level with the younger single attendants, she always felt fake. She would laugh and listen to them talk about their dates, even make up dates of her own, but it always seemed so hollow. She needed her husband and child back to feel whole again. But since this would never happen, she had to find her motherly fulfillment and sense of necessity from her work, from this flight, and from these people.

  She hesitated for just a moment when she saw a man enter the linen closet, but for some reason, she decided to let him go.

  Out in the small compartment, Rob heard the door of the restroom open. “Where did he go?”

  “Check over there. Kern, you and Opar go and secure the flight crew.”

  So there must be at least four of them, Rob thought. He heard the door of his closet open, and someone pushed on the covers. Then the door slammed. A pillow or blanket must have caught in the door because the door did not latch. It swung back open about an inch and a half. By moving just slightly to his right, he could see into the small cabin through a crack between the pillows.

  A large muscular Arab was giving direction. “Get the bombs out and set them for forty-five minutes. I want them to detonate directly over Tel Aviv. We will be in Allah’s arms tonight. You’ll see your family soon.” He walked back into the passenger cabin. “No one will be hurt as long as you cooperate. Euraphas, bring the Israeli officers to me in here.”

  Now, Rob thought, that makes at least five. He heard someone being pushed, a thud and moan. He could see through the cracked door the two Israeli Army officers being pushed into the small
cabin and lined up against the wall opposite the closet where he hid. The officers seemed to know that they were about to die, but they showed no fear.

  A terrorist with what looked like an Uzi sub machine gun stood in front of them. He grabbed the tie of the senior officer and muttered something. The officer pushed the terrorist away and spit in his face. With that, the machine gun erupted in two short bursts, and both officers fell to the floor. Rob gasped and closed his eyes, trying not to breathe. He was afraid that his gasp had been heard.

  “These men were criminals! You see this is no game to us! We will kill you, all of you, if necessary. Remain seated and silent, and no harm will come to you.”

  Logan finally recognized the leader of these terrorists and hoped that he would not be recognized himself. Though he was an officer in the Israeli military, he had very little experience in actual combat. He often traveled in suit and tie or casual clothes, and, because of the nature of the information he was privy to, he often went under an assumed name. This was one situation where that practice could possibly save his life.

  His small stature was not intimidating. He could only hope to be mistaken for American. But what was the name of this large terrorist? Servon. Yes, that was it, Servon.

  Servon was tall, nearly seven feet, and massive in size, an intimidating presence. Across his left cheek, he had an unmistakable shrapnel scar. His heartless raids against Israeli civilians were legendary, and Israel had posted a fifty thousand dollar bounty on his capture or death.

  Logan reflected on the meeting with American and British officials he had just left. The arrogant officials refused to accept the obvious. If their intelligence had not found the information, then it didn’t exist! His documents proved that Iraq’s new military buildup was more than just an exercise: they had invasion plans. This time, Iraq was going to avoid the American presence in Kuwait and invade Saudi Arabia, surrounding and cutting off American forces. Could this be prelude to the new war? he wondered.

  Over the next half hour, Rob stood in the closet trying not to move. He could see only the dead officers. How were his wife and children doing? It was so quiet in the passenger cabin. What would they do to him if they found him? Should he give himself up?

  The terrorists seemed preoccupied arguing amongst themselves. Two of them did not seem to know that their leader intended to murder everyone on board, including himself. Maybe that could help us eventually, thought Rob. Maybe that’s why they never checked the passenger manifest to make sure all the passengers were accounted for. Then again, he thought sarcastically, perhaps this is just their first suicide/murder mission.

  If bombs really were set, then Rob knew he had to do something. No one else knew about the bombs, and the only soldiers on the flight were dead. The other passengers were probably too frightened to think and were just hoping that everything would be okay. Then he noticed an argument in the little cabin just a few feet away from his door.

  “I told you. No!” It was the voice of the leader. “We need them to fly the plane. They must die with the rest of us.”

  “But they know something is wrong. They refuse to fly over Tel Aviv. They say they avoid population centers when we get to the mainland.”

  “Okay, then. We’re over water now, so we are still on course. Tell them to put the airplane on autopilot because I want to talk with them both. When they do that, kill them.”

  God, no! Rob thought. But what could he do? They wanted to kill the flight crew to burn their bridges and make sure there is no way out. He pushed the door open a little and looked into the cabin. It was empty. Then he heard the repetition of automatic gunfire. As he stepped into the small cabin he could feel his legs shaking. Fear had taken his strength. What do you think you’re going to do? Rob asked himself.

  Suddenly, on the other side of the cabin, a door opened. A short, hairy terrorist with blood splattered over his face and body stepped into the small cabin. He didn’t seem to notice Rob at first, so Rob jumped at him, taking him by surprise. He didn’t react fast enough as Rob pulled the weapon from his hands and fell back onto the floor. The terrorist caught himself from falling and started to regain his balance. Rob wrapped his finger around the trigger and pointed the gun at the terrorist. For an instant, he wondered if the gun was empty. As the terrorist leaped toward him, he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger so tightly he thought he would break the gun. It jumped in his hand.

  When he opened his eyes again, the terrorist was on the floor next to him. Shredded blood-stained cloth lay upon his chest. I had no choice, he thought. If these men were willing to commit suicide, surrender would be out of the question. He realized as he looked at the slumped body that this was the one who wanted to go to Allah to be with his family. Well, looks like he got his wish a little earlier than planned, he thought as he turned toward the passenger cabin.

  The gun he was holding was empty now, and the others would be coming for sure. He pushed himself to his feet just as the big, muscular terrorist leader stepped into the door.

  The terrorist’s eyes fell on his comrade’s body. He just stood in the door and slowly turned his face until he was looking squarely at his comrade’s killer.

  Move! Rob screamed at himself and threw the empty machine gun at Servon’s face. As the terrorist raised his hand to deflect the gun, Rob lunged at him and swung his fist as hard as he could into the only soft spot he could think of... the neck. Rob could feel the Adam’s apple smash under his knuckles and saw him grab for his throat in pain. Servon remained on his feet, allowing Rob to notice the semi-automatic pistol sticking out of his opponent’s pants. Was it a six, nine, or fifteen shot gun, or was it empty? he wondered. It’s incredible some of the things that pass through your mind during emergencies, Rob thought.

  Rob grabbed the gun and stepped back to fire two shots into the man’s chest, throwing him backward into another armed terrorist. The gun must have been high caliber because it hurt his wrist when it fired. The other terrorist quickly regained his balance and pushed away the body of his fallen friend. But before he could raise his gun again, Rob had his gun ready. The terrorist was looking directly into Rob’s eyes as Rob pulled the trigger. The man’s head exploded, throwing blood and bones all over Rob and the passengers nearest him. Rob’s stomach wretched. He had just killed a woman.

  By this time, passengers were screaming. To his left, a film crew holding cameras and lights were filming the entire episode. Some passengers were on their feet while others were trying to crawl under their seats. His distraction ended as the crack of several shots swished past his head and thudded behind him. At the opposite end of the passenger cabin, two more terrorists stood. One was trying to aim his pistol at Rob, while the other was coming out of a rear cabin.

  Rob dropped and crouched, pointing his gun in the direction of the terrorist, but his eye stopped to focus on one of the passengers in front of him. Just six inches from the line of fire and midway back through the cabin sat his wife. Six inches to her right and thirty feet behind her was the terrorist, aiming his gun back at Rob. Then Rob saw a puff of smoke, and the arms of the terrorist raised as a bullet was fired and thudded behind him. The screams and shouts from the passengers around him prevented him from hearing the shot.

  He should have taken time to aim, Rob thought. I will. “Please don’t move, Marie,” Rob whispered as he pulled the trigger. A patch of red erupted outward from the terrorist’s chest as the bullet impacted and forced him against the wall.

  Rob pointed the gun in the direction of the other terrorist as he laid on the aisle floor. Quickly, he looked back and forth, but the terrorist was gone. He fought hard the urge to look around at all the people, the shouting, the screaming. He wanted desperately to yell at them to shut up, but he couldn’t afford to lose his focus. He slowly stood to his feet with the gun outstretched, moving slowly from side to side.

  “Please, please,” an old rabbi said to the other passengers. “We must be quiet. Everyone must please sit down and b
e quiet.” Somehow, his words seemed to affect the other passengers.

  How long has it been? Rob wondered. Is our time about up? Should I go after the last terrorist or go for the bombs? But was that indeed the last terrorist? He burst into sweat at the thought that there could be one behind him in the restroom. Or perhaps in the flight cabin.

  He turned quickly and swung the gun toward the flight cabin, but there was no one there. “Blast,” he said out loud and swung back around. But there he stood, in the rear of the passenger cabin aiming his gun directly at Rob. He jumped to his right just as Kalven fired and squeezed the trigger of his gun. Kalven’s bullet swished past him, but his hit Kalven in the side.

  Kalven dropped to his knees and held his side as Rob fell onto the two businessmen. They eagerly pushed Rob off and away from them as he pointed his gun again at the last terrorist. Kalven already had his gun pointing at Rob but was not firing. Rob quickly pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Again he fired. Click. Click.