A skyjacking. No police negotiator ever liked to hear that word. No way to rescue the hostages, no way to guarantee their safety. The terrorists had all the power and control. The only option left to the pilot was to ditch, and that would get people killed.
These things were all going through the mind of David Burke as he rushed into London Heathrow International’s air traffic control. One of the controllers handed him a headset.
“Hello?” he asked in his elegant English accent.
“Yes. Who is this?” the voice was of North African accent. Burke made a note.
“I am David Burke. I was asked to speak to you. Who are you?”
“You may call me...One.” the man gave a number. The number he gave meant he was the leader, and he was also very smart. He wasn’t going to give away his name which might be used against him.
“May I ask the condition of the passengers?” Burke asked.
“They are fine.” One replied, “All of them are alive.”
“What are your demands?”
“I ask only a simple favor.” One told him, “The release of Carlos Il’ych Ramirez Sanchez from prison in France and his safe conveyance to Lybia.”
The name he spoke felt like an icy spear jabbing deep into Burke. “That will take some time.” he said, finally.
“This aircraft has thirteen hours of fuel left in it.” The terrorist said, “You have that long.” The headset went silent.
Burke turned to everyone in the room. Military personnel and terrorism specialists had been gathered to aid in the crisis.
“Well,” a Special Air Service Air Serviceman said, “What does the bloke want?”
“He wants,” Burke let it out dramatically, “Carlos Il’ych Ramirez Sanchez released from prison.” The name itself began an uproar.
“The Jackal?”
“He’s crazy!”
“The French aren’t going to like this.”
Burke held up his hands. “He has not yet killed any of the hostages, and it seems he doesn’t intend to. This guy is a professional. He may be nice, but he means business. We have twelve hours to come up with a solution and implement it! Let’s go.”
“Sir?” One of the passengers not far from the Scouts asked, “May I please go use the bathroom.”
The terrorist halted his pacing and thought for a moment. He then nodded and said, “Sure, go ahead.” The man got up and walked toward one of the airplane’s many bathrooms. The terrorist watched him disappear down the hall and then returned to his pacing. Soon, he stopped again and asked the whole passenger section, “Does anyone else need anything? Drinks? Food?” No one answered, and he once again started pacing.
“They’re being very civil.” Mina noted, “They haven’t hurt anybody, and haven’t denied us anything.”
“I know,” Lita agreed, “It’s weird. I thought skyjacking was a mean and nasty business.”
“It’s almost as if they’re trying to advance Stockholm Syndrome on us all.” Amy added. Serena, Mina, and Rei looked at her in confusion. Lita already knew what she was talking about, “It’s when hostages start sympathizing with the terrorists. It’s very dangerous, because the police become the bad guys, so a hostage might try to foil an attempt at a rescue.”
“But that’s crazy.” Serena said, “Who wouldn’t want to go home?”
“I wonder what they want.” Rei changed the subject. As she said this, Amy pulled her communicator out of her pocket. The other four looked stunned.
“Why don’t we find out?” She turned on the communicator and Luna’s face soon appeared.
“What is it, Amy?” the cat seemed annoyed, “I thought you were all going to Paris.”
“We were.” Amy said. Luckily, their guard was paying no attention to the conversations, “our plane’s been skyjacked. Can you turn on the television?”
“Yes.” There was a long pause, then Luna’s face reappeared, “I’ve got it to CNN, they’re running the story now.”
“What do these guys want?” Rei asked, having to lean over Serena’s lap to see.
“Apparently, they want the release of a man called Carlos Il’ych Ramirez Sanchez from Le Sente prison in France.”
“Who is that?” Mina asked, but she was already guessing that he must be a fellow terrorist.
“I’m not sure.” Luna responded, “I’m going to call Darien. See what you can do.” With that, the communicator went dim. Amy instantly fished her minicomputer from her bag. She typed in the reference and began reading it.
“Sanchez, Carlos Il’ych Ramirez. Also known as Carlos el Chacal, or the Jackal. A professional terrorist blamed for masterminding a spectacular series of bombings, kidnappings and hijackings across Europe. He is accused of a series of brutal bomb attacks in Paris, including one car bombing in the center of the city in 1982 that killed a passer-by and injured 63 without any warning.
“The Jackal is said to have shot an wounded the president of Marks and Spencer in his own home. He set off a grenade in the English headquarters of the Israeli bank and masterminded the murder of Israeli Olympic Athletes in 1972. He took 70 hostages at an OPEC meeting in Vienna...”
“So he’s a pretty bad guy?” Mina cut her off. Amy nodded.
“And these guys wanna free this bastard?” Lita smirked, “No way we’re gonna let them.”
“We have to do something, Amy.” Rei said.
“I agree totally, Rei. But what?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Rei reddened, “But we’ll think of something.”
“Look, Rod, we have no control over this situation.” Burke snapped in return, “In eleven hours, that airplane is going to crash, killing all five-hundred and something aboard.”
“That’s a small price to pay to save thousands.” White said.
“They caught him once, they can do it again.”
“On no they can’t. They were lucky to get him the first time. A man like that doesn’t make a mistake and not learn from it. He’s too smart.”
“These people are going to die!”
“People are gonna die when Carlos gets out, too.” White pointed at him, “Now you get on the horn and tell those bastards that they ain’t got no bloody deal, you understand that?” Burke nodded and picked up the headset. “Call ‘em.” he said. A moment later, One’s cordial voice answered.
“So, you’ve done it already, Mr. Burke?”
“Um, no. We can’t do that.”
“Can’t do it?” One asked, sounding somewhat annoyed. He looked up to one of his compatriots and gave a quick gesture with his head. The man disappeared down the stairs into the main cabin.
“You,” he gestured, “come with me.” Amy began to rise, but she noticed Serena taking off her safety belt and standing up. She was shaky. The man motioned for her to come.
“No don’t.” Rei begged, “Please.”
The skyjacker walked forward and grabbed Serena by the arm, carting her away. Every person in the section let out a combination of a scream and a sigh of relief that it wasn’t him or her. Rei, sitting in an aisle seat, trembled as she watched Serena being taken away. Next to Amy, Mina collapsed into tears, sobbing, “Oh, god, no.”
“Come on.” he said, “Sit down.” He motioned to a chair. Serena didn’t take her eyes off him as she sat down.
“Now, Mr. Burke,” he spoke into the microphone of his headset, “You say you can’t do this. Try telling that to her.” A similar headset was placed on Serena’s head, and the man reached into the cockpit to flip a switch on the flight engineer’s console. He turned back to her. “Tell me, sweetheart, what is your name.”
“Serena.” Her voice could be heard over the entire plane.
“And tell me how old you are, Serena.”
“F-fifteen.”
“Fifteen? Are you traveling with your parents?”
“No,” Serena corrected, “w-w-with my school...on a trip.”
“Ah, so your class is on the airplane.”
“Yes.”
“You are very pretty.”
“Th-thank you.”
“You must be very...popular. You must have a lot of friends.”
He put the snout of the MP10 to her temple, making her draw her breath in sharply.
“Tell your friends what I’m doing now.”
“Don’t do this, man.” the plane heard Burke shout.
“You’re...holding a gun to my head.” Serena tried to remain calm.
“Now, Mr. Burke.” Mr. One said, “You have exactly sixty seconds before I paint the walls with this fine young woman’s brain.”
“Oh, god.” Serena choked.
“Look, if I can’t do it, I can’t do it!” Burke shouted frantically.
“Forty-five seconds.”
“I don’t wanna die. Please?”
“Mr. One, the request is a bit unreasonable.”
“Thirty seconds.”
Serena was to choked to say anything more and began to cry.
“They won’t listen to us!” Burke insisted.
“Fifteen seconds.” and from there, he began a countdown backed by Burke’s angry shouts and Serena’s crying.
“God damn it!” White shouted.