Hijacking of Flight 100: Terror at 600 miles per hour

by C. J. Stott

  “Dispatch. This is 100 again. This is probably nothing. But, we had an unconfirmed report from a Flight Attendant that there is a passenger in the cabin who said something about going to Cuba.” Don waited for a response on the radio, but none came. Fred and Stan were stunned at the Captain’s underplaying the threat of a hijacking.

  He continued, “For the time being, we will treat it as a non-threat situation.”

  He re-keyed the mike and said, “But, if we get any kind of confirmation, then we’ll consider it as a legitimate threat.”

  Lazlo Fielding felt the blood drain from his face. He shuddered, reached for a cigarette and then stopped, “Captain. Kennedy Security did say that the stowaway passenger did fit the hijack profile.”

  “Ah, shit.”

  “San Francisco security had him under surveillance while he was in the airport. This does look like more than coincidence.”

  Neither the pilots nor the dispatcher said anything, the radio hummed as everyone waited for the next bit of conversation.

  The pilots and the dispatcher were all equally stunned. Their mutual silence had confirmed the other’s suspicion.

  Don looked at Fred and then at Stan, “Well. What do you think? Do we sound the alarm?”

  Fred looked over his left shoulder at Stan. Stan looked at Don and back to Fred. No one responded until Stan said, “I’m for telling ‘em. Be foolish not to.”

  Fred nodded in agreement, “Let’s pull the plug. It doesn’t cost us anything. I say, let’s go for it.”

  Don sat with the microphone poised mid way between his lap and his mouth. He pulled on the cord, stretched it and then slowly raised the microphone, “Dispatch, this is Captain Webber. Please alert the authorities that we have a hijacker on board. We have not spoken to the hijacker. At this time, we do not know anything about him. For that matter, we are not certain the threat is real. We do not really know what he wants, or where he wants to go.” Don started to sign off, then added, “We’ll notify ATC, on this end.”

  “Understand 100. You are reporting that you have a hijacker on board and will notify ATC of your intentions, Dispatch clear.”

  Don looked at the bulkhead behind the Flight Engineer’s panel, “Stan, get the crash axe out and put it where you can get to it.”

  “Sorry. The company took all of them off the ‘47’s a couple of years ago. I think some of the other aircraft in the fleet may still have them. But we don’t.”

  “Lovely. Just lovely.” Fred looked at Don and added, That’s really too bad.”

  Stan continued, “Yep. They took the axes off the same time the pulled the asbestos gloves. Some bean counter probably figured it cost too much to keep them on the aircraft.”

  Fred said, “I’ll bet those bean counter-types would think differently right now. Especially, if they were on this flight.”

  “How about a fire extinguisher, Stan?” “Do we have one of those here in the cockpit?”

  “Right here, it’s clamped to the aft bulkhead.”

  Don looked for the extinguisher, but his view was blocked by Stan’s chair. “Pull that extinguisher off the bulkhead and stow it near you, in your desk. I want anything we might be able to use to be available.”

  “You were in the Marine Corps, right?”

  “Yes Sir. Two tours in Viet Nam. Flew F-4 D Phantoms.”

  “Do you remember any of the hand-to-hand training you got in basic?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been a long time and I’m not in the same shape I was in boot camp.”

  Fred added, “Me too. Way too long ago and way too many McDonald’s.”

  “Nonetheless, I want both of you to think about maintaining control if he breaches the cockpit. Stan, you are our first line of defense. Fred, you’re next. No matter how this goes down, I need either or both of you to help me get us back on the ground in one piece.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Just let us know what you want us to do.”

  “Damn it. Stan. That’s my point. I hope you are both self-starters. I don’t want to have to tell you what to do with regard to this clown. Do whatever it takes to maintain control.”

  Fred said, “Deputy Dan reporting as ordered, Sir!” Don ignored his First Officer, but smiled when he heard the metallic snap as the fire extinguisher clamp was released. At the same time, he also heard the cockpit door take a hard blow from outside, which everyone sensed was caused by the hijacker.

  Chapter 48

  17:15Eastern Standard Time

  East of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  Bill lightened his grip on Carlton’s throat and then grabbed Patti’s shoulder. She winced with fright and sucked in her breath.

  “Forget it. You’re not going down stairs, perra. I think you know how to open the door, but you’re not telling me.”

  Bill looked at her. Fear was engraved across her face. He yelled, loud enough for many of the upper deck passengers to hear, “Open the fuckin’ door. NOW!”

  “I don’t know how to do that. They have to unlock it from the inside. They have a switch in the cockpit that unlocks the door. I’ll go downstairs and see if anyone else knows how to open the door.”

  Patti started to turn away from Bill’s grasp, but he tightened his grip and then roughly let his fingers brush against her breast, “No tricks, puta. I want you to open the door, or this one,” Bill jerked Carlton’s head backward, “is going to get hurt real bad.”

  “Yes. Yes, Sir. I understand. No tricks.” Patti was weeping. Her tears and mascara stained her face, “I’ll see what I can do. I, uh, I’ll do the best I can.”

  Bill directed his attention to Carlton, who was leaning against the bulkhead, awkwardly starting another long, slow slide to the floor. The hijacker stood motionless in front of both of them. Patti sensed this was an opportunity to leave and slowly eased toward the circular staircase to the lower cabin. Bill saw her, but let her go. Carlton quivered with rampant fear mixed with unrelenting anxiety.

  Frustrated, Bill kicked at Carlton’s leg, but missed. “Are you sure you don’t how to help?”

  He was angered that nothing in this hijacking was going like it was planned. On one hand, he felt invincible. But at the same time, nothing was working. Again, he kicked at Carlton, “What’s the matter Maricón? You scared?” Carlton tried to move away, but was trapped by the bulkhead behind him.

  Bill snarled with a vengeance, “You useless piece of shit, I’m tired of all this dickin’ around.” He threatened Carlton, “I want talk to the pilot in the cockpit.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the passengers who were more engaged in the drama outside the cockpit door, “If she don’t open the door, then it’s up to you Maricón. If you don’t do it. You’ll be like dead.” Bill raised his hand with the pistol and simulated pulling the trigger. All Carlton could do was cower and quietly pray for deliverance.

  Carlton softly, almost politely grabbed Bill’s hand, “Please don’t hurt me any more.” He paused, “Maybe, there’s a way I could open the door.”

  Carlton twisted away from Bill and reached for the door. He twisted the doorknob, which was locked. He tried to push on the door with a gentle rattling motion. Though the door moved slightly, it remained locked.

  Bill came up behind him and jammed the barrel of the gun against the occipital bone in Carlton’s skull, just behind his ear. “You little fairy. Either you open this door, or I’ll shoot you. Right here. Right now.” For emphasis, he dug the barrel of the pistol into the tender skin behind Carlton’s ear.

  Carlton’s flagging resolve crumbled into a state of paralysis. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. The only thing he could do was sob.

  With no warning, Bill abruptly slammed his body against Carlton, who was pinned between the door and the hijacker’s body. He used Carlton as a battering ram. Their combined weight caused the door to bend and deform.

  Chapter 49

  17:20 Eastern Standard Time

  South of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania


  Downstairs in the lower cabin, Patti ran into the First Class galley and grabbed the interphone handset. She keyed in the emergency number that overrode any other conversations in progress. Near panic, she obsessively and desperately needed to get information to the pilots. She started talking without waiting for an acknowledgement of her call, “Captain. Don. Captain. Please answer me. This is Patti.”

  No one answered.

  “The hijacker I told you about is on the upper deck and he has Carlton hostage. And he has a gun. And I’m in the lower galley. And I, he means business.”

  No response from the flight deck.

  She continued, “His name is Bill. Mexican or Puerto Rican.” She was rasping and short of breath.

  Still no answer came from any of the pilots.

  “And, I got away by telling him I would try to find someone to open the cockpit door, and then I ran downstairs. And he had a gun to Carlton’s head. And Carlton is bleeding ‘cause the hijacker hit him with his gun. They are right outside the cockpit door.” She finally stopped taking long enough to catch her breath.

  She suddenly thought maybe the cockpit had not heard a single word she had said. What should she do?

  There was a sharp metallic click, “Patti, this is the Captain. I heard most of what you said. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m okay. But. But Carlton’s not.”

  “Listen to me. I want you to stay down there. I don’t want any one coming to the upper deck and I want you to move all the First Class passengers as far back into coach as you can. If this guy discharges a gun, I don’t want any passenger getting hurt.”

  Don was running on adrenalin. Acting. Reacting. Thinking. Saying. Doing it all at once.

  “Patti. This is critical. Do not hang up your handset. Keep it off the hook. I want an open line of communication between us. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes sir. I’ll keep cabin team away from the upper deck area too. We’ll move all the First Class people into coach. And I’ll keep this handset open for you.”

  Don thought he sounded like a school teacher lecturing a kid in the sixth grade, “That’s fine, Patti.”

  “You did a good job. And, we can monitor what is being said in your area of the aircraft.”

  “If you want to tell us anything, just start talking. Looks like we may be a little busy up here.” He paused before he added, “Don’t bother us unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  More tears welled up and again her cheeks were wet. She sniffled and said, “All right Captain. What ever you think is best.”

  Then for reasons she did not understand, she added quietly, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 50

  17:30 Eastern Standard Time

  Overhead Morgantown, West Virginia

  Flight Engineer Stan Kurtz was startled when he heard a loud collision against the cockpit door from the cabin. Visually, he checked the lock in the center of the knob. He touched it and then closely examined the deadbolt. It provided a small sense of relief. It was still secure.

  In less than sixty minutes, they would be on the ground at JFK. He considered the safety the airport represented. He also realized how much he depended upon his habits. If the hijacker had his way, they might not being going to Kennedy. Based on his fuel remaining, they were going to be on the ground somewhere is less than one hundred and twenty minutes. An absolute. End of fuel supply equals end of flight. No “do overs.”

  Don looked back at the 747 fuel management panel and asked, “How much fuel do we have right now?”

  Stan looked at the ships ‘Totalizer’ and checked that amount against his own figures, “Right now we have 69,800 pounds. That’s about two hours and ten minutes aloft at this altitude. Assuming a straight in approach and also assuming no vectors, we conservatively have a little more than two hours of cruise fuel left. Depending on the wind, I’d guess about nine hundred nautical miles, give or take ten per cent.”

  Once again the captain became needlessly abrasive. “I can figure the fuel consumption as well as any one. If I want your opinion about our useful range, I’ll ask you. Right now, all I want to know was how much fuel we have on board.”

  “Sorry, Captain. 69,650 pounds.” Stan could not help thinking to himself, “What an asshole.”

  Don’s pulse raced when he heard a second assault against the cockpit door. This time, the noise was Carlton’s head as it ricocheted off the door. All three pilots heard Carlton scream in pain when he hit the door.

  The deformation of the doorframe increased each time Bill slammed Carlton against the door. The aluminum deadbolt had a new and very troubling bend in it.

  Stan figured two or three more strong assaults and the deadbolt would fail.

  Don looked over Stan’s shoulder and saw the cockpit doorknob being rattled and twisted. Carlton shrieked after he bounced against door again. This time, Carlton hit the door with his chest and shoulders. That bent the door dead bolt even more.

  Don stared out the windshield for several seconds. He said nothing. He didn’t move. His hands, palms down, rested on the glare shield.

  Finally, calmly, “Fred, call ATC and tell them we are under attack. Tell them the hijacker has taken a Flight Attendant hostage.”

  Fred said nothing. Stan said nothing. Neither wanted to suffer another angry outburst from the captain. Both thought if they didn’t acknowledge the captain’s order, perhaps this situation would go away.

  Fred finally said, “What do we tell ‘em about our destination? They’ll need to develop a track for us and keep it clear.”

  “Damn it, we don’t know what our destination is going to be.” Looking over his shoulder at the fuel totalizer, He paused, thinking, and said, “All we know for certain is that we’re going to on the ground – somewhere – in about two hours or less.”

  “Hopefully, within the confines of an airport.” Fred knew that was another mistake as he said it.

  “God Damn it, Fred.”

  “Sorry, Boss.”

  Fred looked at Don and then over his shoulder at Stan. Neither pilot showed any emotion. Both looked very together. All three were professional airmen. Each was capable and willing to do what ever was necessary to protect their passengers, aircraft and crew.

  Fred picked up his microphone, cleared his throat and said, “Cleveland Center. This is 100.”

  “Yes Sir. 100. Ident, please.”

  Don pressed the round Identification button on the transponder on the center radio console.

  “Well, it looks like we have a passenger who doesn’t want to go to New York. We have a situation developing here that is probably going to end up in a hijacking. At least one Flight Attendant has been taken hostage.” He paused and went on, “They have not breached the cockpit. Yet.”

  No comment from Don, and no immediate comment from the FAA Air Route Traffic Control Center in Cleveland.

  Fred continued, “We don’t know where they want to go. Earlier, they mentioned Havana to one of the cabin team.”

  “Roger. Roger, 100.”

  Almost in slow motion, Fred hung up the microphone, looked at Don, tipped his head, raised his shoulders until they were level with his ears and pressed his lips into a dry and laconic smile.

  The unseen Cleveland Center controller replied, “100. Sorry for the delay. We understand. Are you requesting any special handling at this time?”

  Fred picked up the microphone and looked at Don for guidance. Don turned his head left and right. “Negative. Nothing at this time.”

  Fred glanced over at Don for any direction or comment. None came forth, so he said, “Our plan is to continue to New York, as filed. If that changes, we’ll let you know.”

  “Do you want to use any special radio frequencies? Do you want to declare an emergency at this time?”

  This time, Fred did not wait for a cue from Don. Quietly, he broadcast, “No. Nope. So far, this is advisory only.”

  Chapter 51

  17:30 Eastern Standard Time


  Overhead Morgantown, West Virginia

  “Understand 100.” Another metallic pause, then, “You just checked in my sector about 40 miles back and should be with me for the next 80 or 90 miles before hand you off to the next controller.”

  The distant metallic voice paused, then said, “If you need anything, we’re standing by. Also, 100, we’ll alert the company, FAA and FBI about the threat.”

  Don picked up the microphone, “This is the Captain. For the moment, the situation is marginal – probably going to become critical. We wanted to take advantage of our current ability to talk in the open. To let you know what is going on.”

  The almost mechanical voice of the controller said, “Rog, 100. We’re with you. Good luck.”

  Stan Kurtz listened to the conversation with ATC. He felt some small measure of comfort in the knowledge that hundreds of people stood by to help them. Unfortunately, despite their good intentions, they were not able to disarm the hijacker or safely put the aircraft back on the ground.

  Chapter 52

  17:50 Eastern Standard Time

  South of Morgantown, West Virginia

  The SELCAL chimes warbled again. Stan silenced the tone, picked up the microphone, selected number two VHF transceiver and said, “100 answering SELCAL. Go ahead.”

  A German accented voice responded, “100. This is Flight Dispatch. We need some information from you if you are able to give it to us at this time.”

  “Dispatch. Standby one for the Captain.”

  Stan looked and saw the Captain deeply reviewing his Jeppesen manual. He didn’t want to disturb him, though the SELCAL from company dispatch was important. Stan interrupted Don’s concentration and said, “Don, Dispatch is on number two and wants some information from us. Do you want to talk to them, or what?”

  Don never looked back at Stan, but said, “Tell them the same thing we told ATC. We have an on going situation. We don’t know where we are ultimately going to end up.”