Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt Read online

  His gun was empty!

  Rob stood there for a moment frozen trying to think of where the terrorist behind had dropped his gun. He realized there was no place to go, so he dropped his pistol and waited for the shot. The shot never came.

  Kalven knelt, bleeding badly but still pointing his gun at Rob. “You must pull the blue wires from the cap.”

  Rob was stunned. Not only was this terrorist trying to save them, but he was speaking perfect English.

  “You must pull the blue wire from the cap!”

  “The bombs?”

  “Yes, yes, of course the bombs! Pull the blue wires from the igniters. And do not think of being a hero or... or... I will shoot her.” He pointed his gun at one of the young girls.

  “I don’t know where the bombs are.”

  “They are up there under the sink.” Kalven waved his gun toward the small cabin. “Go! Go now! You must be quick about it, there are less than five minutes left.”

  Never mind why this terrorist had an apparent change of heart. Rob raced into the small cabin and opened the door under the sink. Just as he was told, there were two bombs. Each consisted of an eight-stick bundle of dynamite with a blasting cap in the center that was attached to a timer and two batteries. He was right, there were less than two minutes left, so he had to be quick.

  “Great.” There was a red, a blue, and a green wire. “I sure hope he isn’t color blind.”

  Two quick pulls, and both blue wires were removed from the blasting caps. “Should I remove the batteries, too?”

  “No, a small battery will detonate the device if you attempt to remove power or take it apart.”

  We’ll know shortly if he’s telling the truth, Rob thought. There was now less than a minute left on the timer.

  Nancy was still standing. “Please, please. We must be quiet and settle down. Things are... are difficult, I realize that. But we all need to do the only thing that we can all do that will help: stay calm and quiet. Everything will be okay. It will be. I promise you.”

  Her words took effect almost miraculously. It immediately became silent as everyone looked at her.

  There was absolute quiet as Rob waited. Click, click. The timers expired, but there were no explosions. Then came a deep sigh as he got to his feet slowly, but what now would this terrorist want? Why did he want to stop the bombs from going off? Also, if the timers went off, then the flight must now be over Tel Aviv! But how are we going to land, and how long can we stay in the air without pilots?

  He looked around the small cabin for a weapon. Nothing. Well, he told himself, I could try beating him to death with a pillow. There was no place to go but back out, and nothing to do but to take whatever the terrorist had in mind.

  He stepped out into the passenger cabin. The terrorist was still kneeling, holding his side with one hand and the gun with the other. A pool of blood was growing beneath him. He would not last much longer.

  “What do you want?”

  He didn’t move.

  “What do you...”

  “I heard you the first time. You don’t have to repeat yourself, you know. You may have killed me, but I’m not deaf. You have killed me. You can see I am dying.” Kalven was looking directly at Rob. “You are good. You are very good, you know. At killing, I mean. You’ve done a very good job of it. You killed us all, and for that, I can only thank you.”

  There was a short pause as he stared at Rob, apparently sizing him up and trying to decide what to do.

  “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Over? Oh, no... no, no, no. It is not over, and it will not be over until I am home, on my soil, in my country, and there... there I will die, and then it will be over! Not before.”

  “Well that’s not likely to happen now, is it? You killed the only people on this flight who could have landed this plane.” There were gasps as Rob realized that the other passengers were unaware that the flight crew was dead.

  “Nooo... That is not true, you... Yes, you can land this plane.”

  “You’re crazy!” Rob knew the insanity of his remark almost before he uttered it. Of course he was crazy! He was going to blow himself up over Israel! “I can’t fly, much less land, a plane!”

  “Nooo...” Kalven waved his gun at Rob. “Nooo... That is not true. You are obviously Special Forces. You can do things like this!”

  “No!!! I’m not Special Forces or anything! I’m a programmer! A computer programmer! Do you understand?”

  “No! You can and will fly this airplane to my home in Baghdad and land there. You will do this or...” He pointed the gun around the cabin. “Or I will start shooting people. Go now. Go now and take me home. It makes no difference to me. I can shoot you or I can shoot the others, and we can all die. It makes no difference to me.”

  Rob looked around the cabin. He was right. It really didn’t make any difference. What’s the worst that could happen? We all die? No matter how he looked at it, the results were the same. Even if the terrorist did not want it, someone had to at least try to fly the airplane. “Does anyone here have flying experience?”

  “Is the flight crew really dead?” one of the businessmen asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “We’re all going to die, then. Aren’t we.”

  “Look, I’m not your captain. I’m just a passenger like you.”

  Everyone began to talk. Some were crying.

  “Look! We can all sit here and complain, or we can at least try something. I don’t know what, but something anyhow.”

  There was a long pause as Rob looked at each blank face.

  “I flew in Korea,” the rabbi said.

  “Do you think you can fly this thing?”

  “Look closely at me.”

  Rob scanned the rabbi and shrugged.

  The rabbi shook his head. “No. Look at these.” He lifted up his arms. They were only stumps. “Korea. That is where I lost them.”

  “Can you help me do it, then?”

  “I don’t know. It has been so long, and so many things have changed.”

  “Would you at least try? If we can’t figure out how to land this thing, we’ll all die.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “Maybe not for you, but what of them?” Rob pointed at his children sitting directly across from the rabbi.

  The old man stared at the children for a long while, then he stood and looked at Rob. “For them. Yes.”

  The old rabbi followed Rob to the flight cabin where a grim sight met them. The flight crew lay on the floor just outside the flight cabin, their eyes and mouths still open. Rob turned into the small cabin and threw up into the sink.

  “You’ve never seen the face of death before.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You can’t? Or you won’t? I’ve seen these faces many times. Never does one get used to the sight.”

  “How is it that a Jewish rabbi fought in Korea, anyway?”

  “Just because I’m Jewish doesn’t mean I can’t be American.” He smiled. “Yes, I fought in the Philippines with MacArthur. I’m very old, you see. I fought in Israel’s War of Independence, too. Now, you be strong. These people need a strong leader, and so does your family.”

  There is something very strange about this rabbi, thought Rob. He seems able to look right through me.

  Nancy slowly walked toward the terrorist. He was breathing heavy, too weak to hold his gun in an upright position, but he did notice her approaching. Why he chose not to respond made no difference to her, for he was an injured and dying man who needed aid.

  “You’re bleeding very badly.” Nancy knelt near him. But the terrorist seemed in a different world.

  “You see those children there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have children the same age. I... I will never see them again.” His body shook. “I want you to know that I am not a terrorist. I am not a murderer. Not anymore.”

  “Then why are you involved with these people?”


  “If I didn’t cooperate, my family would be killed. I didn’t want to do this, I had to. Please, will you get a message to my family?”

  “I don’t know where to look for...”

  “No, not in Baghdad. My family lives in London. My wife and children are British. My name is Kalven. Tell my wife that I tried to stop them from blowing up the plane. Tell her I am not PLO. Tell her that I am sorry about what I’ve had to do. And tell her that I’m sorry I could not tell her the truth. Please tell her I killed no one and that I tried to help. Please!”

  “Why Baghdad? Why not land in Israel where we’re scheduled to land?”

  Kalven wheezed, struggling with each breath. “I will die a free man. In Baghdad... I will be a hero.”

  She reached out to catch him as he fell forward onto the floor. His body went limp. Perhaps now he has found peace, she thought.

  Rob moved the bodies away from the entrance of the flight cabin, and it began to dawn on him what he had done. Try as he may, he couldn’t get the looks on the faces of the people he had killed today out of his mind. It was like a movie constantly replaying in his mind. He winced at the memory of each facial expression of agony as they died. He closed his eyes, trying to block the memory.

  The rabbi was watching him. “Those faces. You’ll see them the rest of your life.”

  Rob stopped and put down the body of the last of the flight crew in the small cabin. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Oh, we rabbis have our sources.” He glanced upward. “We have our ways.”

  Rob and the rabbi sat down in the pilot seats and strapped the seatbelts. “Uh-oh.”

  “Yes?”

  “How long do you think it has been since I disarmed the bombs?”

  “Maybe forty or forty-five minutes.”

  “We’ve probably not only overflown Israel but Jordan, too.”

  “Then that would make us over Iraq?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then that explains who that is.”

  Rob looked at the rabbi and followed his gaze. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Two Russian-made MIG fighters with Iraqi markings were pulling up alongside them.

  “They’ve probably been trying to call us. How do you turn on the radio?”

  The rabbi nodded toward the headsets. “You probably have to wear those.”

  “Of course! They could have been yelling through the speakers, and I never would have heard it.”

  Just then, a flight attendant burst in. “Did you see those fighters out there?”

  “Yes. How are the passengers holding up? Hello, this is Flight... uh... What’s our flight number?”

  “1430, and they’re doing fine.”

  “This is Flight 1430, and this is a mayday. Repeat, this is a mayday, over. How do you turn this on?” Rob flipped a switch.

  “...or we will shoot you down. I repeat, American or British flight, lower your landing gear. Slow to three five zero knots and turn left at heading zero-eight-seven degrees, or we will shoot you down. Over.”

  Rob pressed another button, causing the speakers to cut out. Sure hope this is transmit, he thought.

  “Does anybody read me, over.” Rob spoke into the microphone while putting the headset on.

  “American or British flight, I do read you. Will you yield to my instructions?”

  “Yes, of course we will. We have a problem. Terrorists have killed our flight crew and forced us into your airspace.”

  “Let me talk to one of these terrorists.”

  Rob looked at the flight attendant. “Can you get...”

  “He’s dead.”

  “The terrorists are dead,” Rob said into the microphone and grimaced.

  “How did they die?”

  Rob held his breath and looked first at the rabbi, then at the flight attendant. They both were looking just as blank as he felt.

  “They were shot by... They were shot... by... some Israeli officers who were on this flight. And the officers were also killed.”

  The rabbi nodded approvingly.

  Again a long moment of silence passed. Rob and the rabbi kept busy trying to understand what all the equipment was for. They figured out how to drop and lock the landing gear, correct the air speed, and alter their course. The airplane was remarkably easy to fly.

  “Consider something. We currently have no pilot.”

  “Yeah...”

  “There is no one for the Iraqis to answer to for us. Or to represent us to them. In a situation like this, they have no reason not to split us up and dispose of us as they will. Do you understand what I am trying not to say?”

  “I... think... so... Are you saying that if there were a pilot, the Iraqis would tend to hold him responsible? That he would take the brunt of their anger?”

  “You are very perceptive.”

  Rob turned to the flight attendant. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

  “Nancy.”

  “Would you get me the jacket, hat, and tie from the captain? Oh, also ask my wife to come up here.”

  After a long period of silence from the Iraqi fighters, the radio finally sounded. “Flight 1430, you must drop to ten thousand feet, correct course for zero three seven degrees, and await further instructions.”

  “Roger that. Where are we being taken?”

  “Which of your flight crew remains?”

  “Just me. I’m the pilot. Where are we being taken?”

  “Flight 1430, you have violated Iraqi airspace and are being escorted to an airfield where your aircraft will be searched to determine if your mission over our airspace was of an intelligence nature. You will be detained there while your civilian authorities are contacted and arrangements can be made for your release into their custody.”

  Since the radio was piped over the intercom, Logan knew what all this meant for him. All his intelligence reports and any other documentation that might give away his identity had to be destroyed. But he had the list of code keys that was invaluable to the future de-encrypting of Iraqi codes. This paper had to be memorized before it was destroyed, and it was impossible for him to do it alone.

  He looked around. He had to find someone likely to help him, yet most unlikely to be suspected of espionage. Again he noticed the American woman sitting with her three children. Perfect, he thought, but will she help? He picked up his briefcase and sat down beside her. “Do you mind if I sit here for a minute?”

  “Only if you plan to help me with the children.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve done a remarkable job with your children through all of this. I think it’s a shame that Americans must suffer because of this stupid war between the Jews and the Arabs.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t share your frustration.”

  “No?”

  “No. You see, my husband is part Jewish. That makes my children Jewish, and I’m an adopted Jew.”

  “Then, would it be safe to assume that you are sympathetic to Israel?”

  “It would indeed.”

  Logan was ecstatic. He looked up and muttered a prayer in Hebrew. “Ma’am, I’m sorry I can’t spend a lot of time answering all the questions you will soon be asking me because I have something of the utmost importance to ask of you. My name is Jonathan Logan, and I am an intelligence officer in the Israeli army. I have important papers that must be given to the Israeli, American, or British authorities. These papers represent the security of our nations. It is obvious that we will be searched by the Iraqis when we land, so I must destroy this documentation. I need help in memorizing the information before we land. Would you please consider helping me? The nation of Israel would be in your debt.”

  “What is it? It kind of looks like code.”

  “Can you memorize it?”

  “Yes, of course. I have an excellent memory.”

  “Ma’am, I...”

  “My name is Marie. Marie Anderson.”

  “Oh, yes. Marie, I can’t stress to you just how
important it is that you do not forget any of it! I was to have given this information to your authorities yesterday, but for some reason, it was not accepted very well.”

  “Knowing something of ‘my’ authorities, I’m not much surprised. But I assure you, I have a photographic memory. I haven’t really exercised it much since college, but this looks simple enough.”