She'd put it together.
Rudy Bostich's voice caused him to jump slightly. "What the hell are you discussing, Captain, and with whom?"
Ken didn't respond.
"Captain?"
He rubbed his forehead, feeling the hopelessness again.
"You all right?" Rudy tried again.
Ken snorted suddenly and opened his eyes, slowly looking to his right.
"Do you have any idea, Bostich, how incredibly stupid that sounds?
Here I am with your life literally in my hands, and there you are a lying bastard holding back the very thing I'm committing all these crimes to accomplish, and you want to know if I'm all right?"
Rudy looked embarrassed and shrugged. "I just wondered, you know--"
"When you tell me the truth I'll be all right, and so will all those people back there," Ken gestured to the back as Kat's voice returned to his ear, her tone very soft.
"Ken? Are you there?"
He took a deep breath and pressed the button again.
"I'm here."
"So why, Ken?"
He held his forehead again and pressed the transmit button, startled at the involuntary sob that preceded the words he wanted to say.
What the hell! Tell her! he decided, and the same explanation he'd given to Rudy Bostich tumbled out along with the pain and anger and the utter, complete, devastating realization in the middle of the night that he was powerless to even end the murderer's life.
Lumin had won. He'd killed them both.
Kat's voice was slow in returning to the channel.
"So, this morning you suddenly found Rudolph Bostich on your flight, the man you're convinced screwed up the prosecution of Bradley Lumin, and it was all too much to take, especially after last night's failure."
Ken nodded before remembering to punch the button. "You're very perceptive, Kat. But please don't tell me that proves I'm not a murderer , or in this case, executioner. If I could go back tonight, that trigger would be pulled."
"I understand."
He exhaled suddenly and gripped the microphone with resolve.
"Just like I'll carry out my threats here and now if my demands aren't met. This is the last chance I have, Kat. I'm not going to back down.
I can't. You either comply directly, or I blow us up and let public outrage provide the momentum."
"I need to come over there and talk to you in person, Ken. That okay? I'll leave whenever you want."
Involuntarily he jerked his head to the left, wondering why she would make such a request. That couldn't be in the procedures, or was he overlooking something?
"Think about it, please?" she pleaded. "I'm unarmed, and it wouldn't matter anyway, would it? You've got that infernal trigger.
Even if I had a Howitzer I couldn't use it, so I'm no threat, but it's hard talking to you this way, having to push to talk, and waiting for every reply."
Ken let out a short laugh as he checked the fuel gauges. The fueler had already loaded over eleven thousand pounds and was still pumping, probably wholly unaware of what was happening.
Ken hit the button again. "Kat, you're still forgetting I know the routine. If I let you over here, you'll have a chance to work on my head, try to pretend friendship and caring and bonding, and hey, I'm a normal male and yon sound like a normal female, so maybe I'd fall for that chemistry, too. No. You can't come over here. There's nothing to talk about until you and Bostich both give me what I want."
"Then let me talk to Bostich. Maybe I can convince him."
Rudy Bostich couldn't hear her request, but he could see the utterly strange look that crossed Ken's face as he suddenly turned his head toward the right seat, then reached up and flicked on an overhead speaker before pressing the transmit button. "Stand by, Kat. I'll set it up, and I'll be listening to every word."
"Understood," she said, the answer booming through the cockpit at earsplitting volume as Ken's hand shot out to turn down the volume control.
He pointed to a microphone hanging to the right of the copilot's seat.
"Pick up the mike, Bostich. Agent Kat Bronsky wants to talk to you."
A look of alarm crossed Rudy's face.
"Why?"
Ken snorted. "Hell, Bostich, I don't know. Maybe at last the FBI is onto you."
"What do I do?"
"Pick up the microphone and press the button on top to talk, release it immediately to listen."
Bostich did so tentatively, as if the microphone were about to shock him.
"This is U.S. Attorney Rudolph Bostich," he said in a slightly forced tone, still holding the transmit button.
"Release the button," Ken snapped.
Rudy looked to the left, startled. "What?"
"The transmit button. Release it to listen."
Rudy looked down at the microphone and let go of the button suddenly.
Kat's voice returned as she introduced herself and assured him that the FBI was aware of all aspects of the situation.
"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" Rudy asked. "I just want out of here."
"Sir, I have to tell you with all due respect, that if you are, in fact, holding back any information on the Lumin case, you're imperiling yourself and everyone aboard."
Rudy snorted. "You trying to intimidate me, Agent?"
"No, sir. But we have a serious accusation against you made the first time, I'm told, in a Connecticut court by a police detective, and now repeated in a major hijacking, and demands are being made here that are being heard all the way to the White House. I'm not allowed to come over there physically and talk to you, so I have to use this method. Mr. Bostich, I've been given a quick synopsis of the Connecticut hearing that led to the invalidation of the search warrant. I'd like to ask you about that." She let up on the transmit button, and Rudy punched his immediately, a look of amazement contorting his face.
"Are you aware who I am, young lady?"
Kat's reply was immediate.
"Yes, sir, you told me who you are. Now. In reference to Detective Matson's claim under oath in that hearing--a claim that you called him with a tip that Bradley Lumin was the murderer of Melinda Wolfe--could there be the slightest truth in that claim, sir? Think very carefully before you answer, please, because this is a formal investigation.''
Rudy shook his head and smiled sarcastically. "What hick town police department did you come from, Agent Bronsky? You're speaking to a United States Attorney, and a candidate for U.S. Attorney General. I'm not the goddamned hijacker here, woman! Captain Wolfe is. How dare you presume to question me, and on an open radio channel?"
Rudy sensed a reaction from Ken Wolfe, but he was unprepared to see Ken laughing.
"What?" Rudy asked him in an offended tone.
"What?" Ken replied. "What? Listen to yourself, you overblown, lying, pompous sack of shit! You're about to lose your life here, you and I both know you're lying about that tip, and you've got the audacity to try to intimidate her because she's just a little female FBI agent and you're a big, badass, male prosecutor! Jesus Christ, Bostich, you're an egomaniacal bastard! Your arrogance simply knows no bounds, does it?"
"I don't know what you're blathering about, Wolfe."
"Oh, yes you do, and I think you probably just alienated the only friend you've got in this equation, fool. Go ahead. Pick up the microphone.
Snarl at the woman some more. After all, she doesn't count, does she? She's just a little female, like my daughter. Just a little female, and females are so much baggage, aren't they Rudy?"
"Her questions are nonsense," Bostich stammered.
"Well, please explain that to her in acid detail, Rudy. Because when you're through demonstrating your total disdain, she'll probably come over here and shoot you herself. Save me the trouble."
Bostich snorted. "You don't have a gun, just that electronic thing."
Ken looked at him in deep thought for a few seconds, then leveled his index finger at him.
"You know, you're right about
that."
He turned back toward the Gulfstream and clicked off the overhead speaker.
"Kat, I'm sad to report the big candidate for Attorney General doesn't like you very much. In fact, I think Mr. Bostich is a misogynist.''
"I'm just trying to get at the truth, Ken. What do we do now?"
He drummed the fingers of his right hand on the glareshield for a few moments before answering.
"I see the deputy coming aboard. Send him back out. I want him about twenty-five feet to the side of my forward entry door, his hands on his head where I can see them at all times."
"Why?"
"I'm not going to tell you, but I can assure you I'm not planning on hurting him, Kat. You be sure to explain to him, though, that he can't hurt me without blowing up everyone."
Ken pulled what appeared to be a small handheld radio from his map kit with his right hand, then snapped off his seatbelt as he looked at Bostich and raised the electronic trigger into view with his left.
"The first sign of movement out of that seat, Bostich, and I let go."
Rudy shook his head disgustedly. "I'm not going anywhere. Apparently.''
Ken clipped the small handheld to his belt and stepped over the center console to stand in the small aisleway between the console and the cockpit door. Without warning, he reached out and yanked the shoulder harnesses on the copilot's seat from their stowed position.
Rudy flinched at the vibration and began to look around.
"Freeze? Ken commanded. "Get your eyes back forward."
Rudy complied, his eyes focusing on the instrument panel as Ken reached down to the base of the copilot's seat and adjusted something, then handed the shoulder harnesses over Rudy's left shoulder.
"Here. Grab these two straps and pull hard."
"Why?"
"Don't argue. Just do it."
Rudy took the straps in his right hand and pulled them to their maximum length.
"What now?"
"I've wedged the trigger into the shoulder strap inertial reel at the base of your chair, Bostich. The pressure you're putting on that strap is holding the button down. As long as you keep constant tension on those harnesses, the button will remain depressed."
"No!" Rudy cried out. "You can't leave me like this!"
Ken snorted in disgust. "What, in suspended agony, like you left me when you lied to that judge? I can leave you any way I want to, scum."
"What are you planning?" Bostich's voice was an anguished whine.
"What am I planning? I'm planning to use the lavatory, and I don't want you thinking about leaving. Any attempt to pull that trigger out without knowing precisely which button is depressed, and we're all gone."
Rudy was breathing hard. "After you use the bathroom, you're coming right back? Right?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. I may evacuate this aircraft and leave you like this until I get a confession. Or I might get the people off and set it on fire to let you make your own decision whether to blow up or roast. I haven't decided, except for one thing."
"What- what's that?"
"You sign a confession, you walk away. Think about it."
Ken leaned behind the left seat and pulled the circuit breakers for the communication radios.
"Remember, Bostich. Even a slight lessening of the tension may trip the trigger. And don't get any ideas about the radios. They're turned off."
Aboard AirBridge Flight 90, Telluride Regional Airport, Colorado. 3:27 P.M.
With Rudy Bostich afraid to move in the copilot's seat, Ken Wolfe reached down to the back of the center console and pulled up the P.A. microphone.
"Folks, you're going to see someone come out of the cockpit. Make no attempt to stop him, approach him, talk to him, or otherwise interfere with him. Stay in your seats. That includes the flight attendants."
Ken looked through the peephole before moving out of the cockpit and into the adjacent lavatory. He emerged again rapidly and glanced back up front, satisfied that Bostich was holding onto the straps for dear life, totally unaware that the trigger was still in Ken's left hand.
"I just want you to know, Bostich, that we're all depending on you," Ken said mockingly.
The passenger cabin was quiet, with several sets of startled eyes following him. Annette was nowhere to be seen, so Ken reached down to the same panel Annette had used constantly to talk to him and rang the rear galley. Annette answered almost instantly.
"Are you all three back there?"
"Yes," was the icy response.
"Okay. You're going to feel the pressure change as the front door is opened. Stay back there! Do NOT come forward, and do NOT let any passenger stand up."
"We get the idea, Captain."
"Just one thing. I'll have the trigger with me if I step outside. If I see any human being open a door, or worse, try to leave the aircraft, I'll detonate."
He replaced the handset and looked through the small window on the door. The deputy was visible on the tarmac below, his hands on his head as requested.
Ken disconnected the automatic exit slide and worked the door handle before flipping the switch that extended the self-contained boarding stairs. The sound of motors whining finally ended, and he swung the door open and stood for a moment in the doorway, half expecting the impact of a bullet.
Instead, the flow of a cool breeze washed over him as he stepped outside and raised his left hand. "You see this black plastic thing, Deputy?''
he yelled.
"Yes," Goodwin replied.
"Did the FBI agent brief you that it's a trigger?"
Goodwin nodded.
"Okay. I'm coming down these stairs. If anyone's waiting with a gun, you'd better stop him. I get shot, we all go up in one horrendous explosion."
"No one else is close, Captain. I told all my people to stay away.
What do you want?"
Ken reached the bottom and stepped onto the ramp, immediately dropping to a squatting position to inspect under the 737 and around behind it.
No one there. So far, so good, Ken said to himself as he stood.
He turned back to the deputy. "I want your gun, Deputy. Take it out of the holster with two fingers and place it on the ground, then back off. I see any sudden movement, or see your fingers closing around it, I'll trigger the bomb."
"NO." "No?" Ken said, his head inclined to one side in surprise. "No?"
"I can't give you my gun, Captain."
Ken looked down and shook his head before looking back at Goodwin.
"I don't think you thoroughly understand the situation here, Deputy.
What's your name?"
"Gary Goodwin.'
"Don't try to be a hero, Gary. You're going to give me that gun, or you're going to be the cause of a hundred and thirty deaths."
"No, sir," Gary said, shaking his head.
"Why?"
"Because you're an airline captain, sir, and I just can't believe an airline captain would really do that."
Ken was shaking his head in wonder. "Believe it, Gary. This one will." He gestured toward the Gulfstream. "Did the FBI agent up there tell you I'm too desperate to really give a damn what happens?"
"No, sir."
"See, Gary, live or die, blow them up, save them, I could care less at this point. She tell you that?"
Goodwin shook his head.
Ken paused, a sudden flash of an idea in his head.
"Gary, didn't she tell you how many people I killed last night near Ft. Collins?"
A wide-eyed look of shock spread across Goodwin's face as he tried to stammer an answer. He'd heard nothing about any multiple murder, but then again, he hadn't listened to a radio or TV newscast in the last week.
"Are you willing to gamble all their lives, Gary, on the unpredictable actions of a maniac like me?"
"Why.. , why do you need a gun if you've got a bomb, Captain?"
Ken could see faces pressed against the Gulfstream's windows and suddenly an attractive woman appeared on the top step of the business jet
, holding the handrail and looking alarmed, her hair blowing wildly from the stiff breeze whipping across the tarmac.
He pulled the handheld radio from his belt.
John J Nance - The Last Hostage Page 24
