Accidental Heroes

by Danielle Steel

  “Stay calm,” Helen said to Jason. “I’m going to go and help him. You don’t need the gun. You have control of the plane now.” She got up carefully from her seat, and Jason didn’t try to stop her. He was intent on where he was headed. Helen got to Connor as quickly as she could, took off her own jacket and tried to slow the flow of blood, but he was badly injured and having trouble speaking. His eyes looked deep into hers, and she tried to reassure him.

  “You’re going to be okay. We’ll be on the ground soon.” She made him as comfortable as she could and went back to her seat next to Jason. The tower was demanding to know again what they were doing and where they were going. Neither Helen nor Jason answered, and the tower was insisting they come in, and warned them of air traffic just below them if they intended to drop altitude again. Helen looked out the window and could see a large plane just beneath them.

  “Watch out for that plane,” she warned him. “You’re not going to be able to pull this off. You know that, don’t you? If you give me back the controls now, I’ll get us down safely. You can keep me as a hostage if you need to when we’re on the ground.”

  “What are they going to do? Shoot me down? Fire a missile at us? They can’t. We have a hundred and two passengers and nine crew on board. They’re not going to endanger them, and you don’t need to be a hero, Captain. Who gives a damn about these people?” he said confidently. He was on a joy ride he had waited years for, and nothing was going to stop him.

  “You don’t want to hurt anyone, Jason,” she said firmly, but he already had. Connor Gray was dying on the floor behind him. And it was obvious where they were going. They were headed for the Golden Gate Bridge, just as Ben had feared would happen. Nothing was going to stop Jason now.

  * * *

  —

  The tower had alerted Homeland Security immediately, who called their local chief, who in turn called Ben in New York. He was still watching the rescue teams at the Golden Gate Bridge. Ben put him on speaker the moment he got the call.

  “He’s got the plane,” Alan Wexler told Ben from San Francisco. “She flipped the switch on the radio. Air traffic can hear everything. He shot someone. It must be Captain Gray, because Captain Smith is still talking. They’re headed for the bridge now.”

  “Shit,” Ben said, listening to him. And he turned to Phil. “Where’s Tom Birney? Email him and tell him to get in there. If Smith tries to get the controls away from Jason Andrews, he’ll shoot her.”

  “He’s going to shoot one of them, whatever happens,” Phil predicted grimly. He emailed Tom Birney then, but got no response. Tom was already aware that something had happened when they dropped altitude sharply and nearly hit another airliner. He looked at Catherine for an instant, and spoke to her quickly.

  “Everything’s going to be fine, but it may get a little scary for a while. Trust me. You’ll be okay. I promise.” And with that, he took off for the cockpit at a dead run, sped down the aisle, and took the access codes out of his pocket. People were leaning into the aisle to try and figure out what was going on, and both groups he ran past in the galleys looked panicked. He stopped for only a second to talk to the purser, told her the captain had given him the access codes, and he had the security clearance to go in. And she’d seen him go into the cockpit earlier so she knew it was true.

  Seconds later, as people looked down the aisle to watch him, Tom unlocked the cockpit door easily with the codes Helen had given him, and he crouched down as he crawled on all fours, let the door close behind him, and saw Connor Gray immediately. He was ashen and bleeding profusely, and Tom could hear Helen speaking to Jason in a calm, even voice, trying to get him to allow her to take the controls over again. They couldn’t compete back and forth with the controls. They were flying over the bay by then, over container ships and tankers, and Tom could see the bridge in the distance, with the Coast Guard ships near it. He stood up then, trying to distract Jason from Helen. Jason turned to face Tom, standing behind him, and pointed the gun at him.

  “You don’t need to shoot me, Andrews,” Tom said calmly. “You don’t need to do any of this. Let’s go home.”

  “Fuck you,” Jason shouted at him. “How did you get in here?”

  “My security clearance gives me the access codes on any plane I want.” He didn’t want Jason to suspect Helen, or he might shoot her for that. “Let’s take the plane back to the airport.” They were losing altitude but not at a rapid rate. They still had room to maneuver, and he knew Helen could do it. “Put the gun away. You don’t need it.”

  “Yes, I do. Fuck the bastards I work for. They’d have had me in the number-two seat forever. They don’t like my attitude,” he said in a mocking tone. “I hate them.”

  “That’s no reason to kill a bunch of innocent people for it.”

  “What difference does it make? At least they’ll have had a thrill before they die. No one gives a damn about them.”

  Helen did, and Tom, and the airline, and Ben and his whole office in New York, and Alan’s in San Francisco. They had been working frantically for hours to protect them.

  The tower radioed to all planes in the area that they had a rogue plane in the air believed to be headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge, and suggested they gain altitude and to watch for visible air traffic. The tower warned them all to use great caution, and to stay away from the bridge. At the same time, the San Francisco office of Homeland Security was warning all emergency vehicles to be on the alert. The plane was heading toward them, and probably the bridge. And the FAA had just been informed that the captain was no longer in control of the plane and a rogue pilot was flying it.

  Jason was still using the controls on his sidestick, while Helen sat watchfully beside him, waiting for an opportune moment to switch them to hers, before they got to the bridge. And Tom knelt to tend to Connor, who was gasping for air, as Tom loosened his collar and tie, which was all he could do for him.

  * * *

  —

  Tim Shepherd, Helen’s father, had just left the hardware store with a new power drill and some shelves he wanted to put in his younger grandson’s room. He heard the news as soon as he turned the key in the ignition. He had left the radio on the news channel, and all the announcer said was that a plane, a commercial airliner, was flying in the San Francisco area out of normal flight plan, and the possibility that it was being piloted by terrorists had not been ruled out. Tim stopped, frozen in his seat, and glanced at his watch. It was ten forty-seven, and he knew Helen’s flight was due to land any minute. His blood ran cold as he listened, and some terrifying instinct told him it was the plane Helen had flown in from New York. She had called him from New York the day before and asked if he wanted to have lunch with her. She said she’d be home by one. And as he often did, he told her he’d do some repairs around her house, while he waited for her to get home. Since retiring from the Air Force, he spent all his spare time with his daughter and grandchildren. His son-in-law’s shocking death had convinced him that Helen needed his help. She couldn’t do it all alone.

  He had been one of the most dedicated pilots in the Air Force in his day, and had given Helen her love of planes. He was immeasurably proud of her. She was his only child, and as he sat listening to the news in the car, the announcer said that the plane had been sighted heading for the Golden Gate Bridge. They didn’t identify what flight it was, but as soon as they said the airline, he knew.

  “Come on, Helen,” he said out loud without even realizing it. “Whatever’s going on up there, you can do this. Get your plane back from those bastards and take control.” He was clenching his jaw as he said it and fighting back tears. He put the car in gear then and sped toward his grandchildren’s school. Whatever happened next, they were going to need him more than ever, and he wanted to be there when they heard the news.

  * * *

  —

  “God damn!” Ben said, stomping
around his office, as everyone made calls to try and get information. “Couldn’t I be wrong for once? Here we go again. What the hell are we going to do to help her get that lunatic away from the controls? And where the fuck is Tom Birney?”

  “He’s in the cockpit with them. The tower can hear him. Tom gave Andrews some song and dance about having the access codes as part of his clearance. But at least Jason hasn’t shot him or Helen yet. That’s something,” Alan said miserably on the speakerphone.

  “The passengers must be panicking,” Ben said, thinking aloud.

  “We have a good crew up there. They know what to do.”

  * * *

  —

  Jennifer, the purser, made an announcement for all passengers to stay in their seats when the plane had started to drop. She told everyone to put their life vests on and where to find them, and reminded them not to inflate them while they were inside the aircraft. Susan Farrow had put her dog inside her sweater, with his leash in her hand, and had put the life vest over both of them. And Nancy and Joel were on their jump seats holding hands.

  “I’m not letting whoever is flying this plane ruin my wedding. I can’t do that to Kevin,” he whispered to her, and they both knew that if the plane went down and they hit the water, they’d have to move fast. They had no idea what was happening, but it wasn’t good.

  Jennifer kept making announcements for everyone to keep calm, and to be ready for a possible water landing. She reminded them again to pull down on the red tab on their life vests only after they left the aircraft. When Nancy leaned into the aisle, she could see people holding hands, and some were crying. No one was screaming yet. She felt bad for the two kids traveling unaccompanied but didn’t dare move out of her seat, and Catherine James was looking panicked. By then, everyone knew that something terrible had happened, and something even worse might come next.

  * * *

  —

  Jason was grinning, with the bridge in plain sight by then, and Helen knew she had almost no time left to save them. Tom was sitting in Connor’s seat, who was lying at his feet, and making no sound. Helen turned to look at Tom and nodded imperceptibly, and he understood. This was going to be their last chance. In a few minutes, they would be there. Tom got up quietly from his seat, and on silent feet, took two big steps to Jason, who was looking straight ahead at the bridge, and Tom hit him as hard as he could on the side of the head. It stunned Jason for just long enough to loosen his grip on the sidestick with the controls next to his seat. Helen flipped the switch on him and took control of the plane again, as Jason leapt out of his seat and pointed his gun at Tom.

  “You sonofabitch,” he shouted at him, “you’re just like all the rest, the lying bastards at the airline, my cheating girlfriend, you’re all liars and cheats trying to screw me over.” He yelled at Tom, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Helen tried to regain altitude as she pulled a sharp maneuver and alternately dipped the wings. She was trying to throw Jason off balance and get the gun out of his hands, so Tom could get it away from him.

  “Sorry, Tom,” she said, as she dipped the wings as sharply and extremely as she dared. It was a tactic she had learned as a fighter pilot, and it had always worked, but she needed more altitude to do it right. She knew she was terrifying the passengers, who had no idea what was happening. But it worked well enough, both men were knocked off their feet, and the gun fell out of Jason’s hands as he tried to steady himself, and Tom got him in a grip and held him down, while Helen tried desperately to regain altitude, but he had taken them down too far. She could hear screaming in the back from the passengers, but there was nothing she could do about it, except steady the plane, and try and pull it up. It looked like she was going to make it, and the zigzag course of the aircraft was on CNN by then, and they saw her breathtaking maneuver alternately dropping the wings that had gotten the gun out of Jason’s hands, while she continued to wrestle with the plane.

  “I can’t get us up any higher,” she said through clenched teeth. “The goddamn plane is too heavy, and he’s got us down too low,” she said to Tom, and she flipped the radio switch again, so she could talk to the tower, while Tom held Jason down with his full weight so he couldn’t move. “This is Captain Helen Smith,” she said calmly, “we have a problem.”

  “We can see that you do. Who’s flying the plane now?”

  “I am. But I’m having trouble getting back upstairs.”

  “Can you land in the Presidio? There’s some flat land there. It’s to your left.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced. The air traffic controller told Homeland Security what he had suggested to her. Amanda and Bernice were holding hands in a death grip as they watched the progress of the plane on CNN, and Ben stared at it in horror. They were still heading toward the bridge, and he knew Helen must be fighting the plane with everything she had to change their course before too late.

  And as Ben watched the television screen in New York, Jason succeeded in throwing Tom off him with a burst of superhuman strength and fought Helen for the controls again. Tom had hit his head and was dazed. Jason was able to get control of the plane away from Helen and headed it straight for the bridge. Everyone watching from the ground could guess that Jason was back in the driver’s seat again. It looked like the inevitable was about to happen, and as Jason shrieked with laughter, Tom picked up the fallen gun and aimed it at him.

  Chapter Ten

  There was silence in Ben’s office as they watched the progression of the plane, low over the water, and heading for the bridge. No one was telling them anything from the cockpit. Helen was too busy trying to figure out how to get the plane away from Jason and save the passengers. But Tom had the gun and Jason didn’t know it. Jason was in a state of euphoria watching them head straight for the bridge. This was what he had planned and it was happening. It was the most exciting thing he’d ever done. And he’d done it right. He knew Helen couldn’t save the plane, or get them out of the nosedive they were in. And he had timed it perfectly. They would hit the bridge, the plane would explode, and what was left of it would fall into the water and sink and the bridge with it. Everyone on the plane would be dead, and the airline would be embarrassed and have to pay millions of dollars in lawsuits, maybe billions. He didn’t care who died, just so they all did. And he had nothing to live for now anyway. They were never going to let him fly as a captain now. They weren’t going to anyway. And he was going out with a bang. He was taking a national landmark with him. They would never forget the pilot who had destroyed the Golden Gate Bridge. They would remember him forever, just like the postcard said. He had left it in the bin on purpose, even though no one would know what it meant until afterward. He was savoring every minute, and suddenly felt the gun pressed against his head.

  “Get out of that seat,” Tom said in a murderous voice. “I mean it. Get up.”

  “Why should I?” Jason said smiling at him. “We’re all going to die together.”

  “No, we’re not,” Helen said clearly. She reached down and switched the controls back to herself, as Tom dragged Jason out of the chair, and Jason didn’t try to stop him. He knew it was too late for her to save them. His mission had been accomplished.

  “Captain Smith here,” Helen said to the tower. They had been listening too and watching the plane’s erratic movements, as they helplessly stood by. “It’s too late to get us out of this. We’re going down,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. And as she said it, Jason grabbed the gun from Tom with an enormous smile on his face, put it in his own mouth, and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered everywhere, and Jason fell to the floor dead. He had wanted to commit suicide and he had done it. Helen looked through the blood-splattered windshield, trying to figure out what to do, and where to land. She couldn’t make it into the Presidio, but she was determined not to hit the bridge, and she knew that if she pulled up now, she would.

 
“My copilot is dead, he shot himself,” she said and then turned to Tom. “Get back there, and have the crew get everyone out as fast as they can, once we’re on the water. I’ll do what I can, but we won’t float for long.” Tom nodded, and she stopped him for a second. “How’s Connor?” They hadn’t heard a sound from him in several minutes while they dealt with Jason. Tom looked down before he left the cockpit and answered her.

  “He’s dead.” She nodded. She couldn’t stop to think about it. She had a plane to land on the water, for as long as it would float.

  “Go,” she said to Tom, with urgency in her voice. “We have very little time to get them out. If I can keep it up for long enough, the slides will be operative,” which would turn into life rafts. There was a slim chance that they could save the passengers, but she was going to try, and she was determined not to hit the bridge. She knew that if she tried to gain altitude from the course Jason had set them on, they would hit the bridge for sure, and there would be less chance of survivors.

  “Captain, the Coast Guard is ready for you,” the tower told her.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for them. I can’t get up, so I’m going down, I’m going to try to slide under the bridge. We may lose a few repeat customers on this maneuver. They may pick another airline after this,” she said to the controller, concentrating on what she was doing, and trying to bring the aircraft in on a dime. It would put them in the choppy waters at the mouth of the bay, but she had no other choice now. She was in the cockpit alone with two dead men, and she was damned if she was going to lose a single passenger, whatever it took.