The Last Hostage (18 page)

"Is that a case anyone recalls?" Kat asked, her head still cupped in her hand.

Jim nodded, then shrugged. "I don't know. I recall it, because it was so infuriating. It was a kidnap-murder near Stamford, Connecticut, and nearly eight months went by before they collared the bastard, a real sleazebag pedophile with a long record of molestation, child porn, the works."

Frank was shaking his head. "What was the girl's full name?"

"Melinda Wolfe," Jim replied. "They had this Lumin character cold, but virtually all the evidence came from a search of his home and his computer, and when the warrant was thrown out, the case went with it."

Kat looked at Frank. "I'll bet you anything that Mr. Bostich was somehow involved in issuing that warrant."

Jim shook his head. "I doubt it. It was a state prosecution. There was no federal prosecution, or not yet, at least."

Kat looked at both of them, then addressed Jim.

"You said two years ago?"

"I did. I checked the date. This is the second anniversary of her murder." "Bingo," Frank said under his breath.

Kat intertwined her fingers as she sat in the chair, staring at the floor.

"Frank, there are several corporate air terminals on the east side of the field. One's called Million Air. I forget the others. If we don't have a business jet standing by with FBI pilots, and I'm sure we don't, call the Million Air terminal and beg for help. See if we can commandeer or charter a business jet, one that can keep up with a seven-thirty-seven.

I need to be off the ground within ten minutes."

"Kat--" Frank began, a pained expression on his face.

"Trust me, Frank. Don't argue. There isn't time. If I'm not airborne in ten minutes with the ability to talk to Wolfe directly by aircraft radio from above, we'll lose him yet. I can't do it from down here."

There was no sound from Frank Bothell. He was in deep thought.

She was wondering what more to say when he smiled suddenly.

"Okay, Kat. Let's get one of the officers here to race you to the other side while I call. Keep your cell phone on."

"Jim, call Approach, get me a stack of frequencies Wolfe might be monitoring."

"Will do." Jim grabbed a phone as Frank pushed past him headed for the hallway. He hesitated in the doorway just long enough to turn back to her.

"Take your weapon, Kat, and don't take any chances."

Million Air Executive Terminal, Salt Lake City International Airport. 1:01 P.M.

Captain Dane Bailey emerged from the plush passenger cabin of NorthLight Industries' thirty-nine-million-dollar Gulfstream IV and entered his hightech computerized cockpit as the copilot looked up from the right seat.

"Are we into Plan B now, or what?" Jeff Jayson asked.

Dane maneuvered himself into the captain's seat as he handed a fistful of maps to Jayson and nodded.

"I've never seen the FBI commandeer a jet before, but," he in-clined his head toward the passenger cabin, "the boss says if they need help, we'll provide it."

"So where are we going, Dane?"

He shook his head and smiled. "There's an FBI agent racing over here right now. I guess he'll tell us. All I know is, this still concerns the AirBridge hijacking, and I've never seen the boss so disturbed about anything. He's trying to hide it, but this has him really upset."

Jayson nodded. "It must, to prompt the vice chairman of AirBridge's board to chase the company's 737 across Utah rather than fly to Air- Bridge headquarters. I couldn't believe how fast he got here from his office."

Bailey shrugged. "Hey, ours is not to reason why. The man's got about thirty million invested in that airline. He's got a right to worry."

Aboard AirBridge Flight 90. 12:50 A.M.

Annette had expected to die as the 737 approached the ridge and suddenly pitched up. Instead, the ridge flashed beneath them and the 737 pitched over as Ken Wolfe dove down the far slope and began maneuvering along a mountain valley, hugging the trees and the terrain which were passing in an incredible blur.

"What's happening?" the woman sitting next to her asked in a small voice. Annette realized with some embarrassment she'd been squeezing the woman's hand, and she let go as decorously as possible. "What's your name?" Annette replied.

"Louise. Louise Richardson."

"Stay calm, Louise. I have no idea what's going on, but I don't think he means to kill us. I think he's trying to scare us."

"It's working!" Louise said.

The sound of the PA. clicking on seemed ominous.. They had no ally on the other end of the microphone, only an enemy now.

"Listen up, people. Stay down, stay put. According to our captor, we've got more than one criminal aboard today. He says in first class there's a piece of walking excrement named Rudy Bostich who thinks he's going to be the next Attorney General of the United States. Mr. Bostich is a liar and a cheat and an unconvicted felon, and our captor requires Mr. Bostich's presence on the flight deck. He says we'll tell you more later.

Annette, escort Mr. Bostich to the cockpit door. If he won't come voluntarily, tell him our guest says he will detonate the bomb."

Annette leaned forward and looked across at Rudy Bostich, whose face was a study in pure panic. The cell phone had been open in his hand, and it dropped unnoticed to the floor as he looked back at Annette with pleading eyes, swallowing hard.

Annette got to her feet and headed instead for the forward door area to pull the interphone from its hooks and punch the cockpit call button.

"What the hell is it, Annette?" Ken snapped. "Weren't the instructions clear enough?"

"What do you want, Ken? You planning on killing him in the cockpit while trying to fly?"

"I considered it," Ken shot back, "but he's got to live to face charges. Does that make you feel better?"

She closed her eyes and metered her breathing before replying.

"When are you going to drop this pretense, Ken? People already suspect.

Your voice is too angry, too hateful."

"Bullshit. Stop stalling, Annette. Get that worm by the collar and get him up here."

"Do it yourself, Ken!" she snapped.

Immediately, the 737 began a roll to the right and a sharp pull.

"Want to change your mind, Annette? Or do you want me to fly us into the hills? I don't get him up here, I have nothing to live for anyway."

"Okay, OKAY? she stammered. "I'll bring him up."

The roll reversed itself.

She replaced the handset and moved back into the first class cabin, feeling like an unwilling executioner.

"Rudy..." she said quietly, irritated by the cornered look on his face. Wasn't he supposed to be a big, brave prosecutor? She could use a little show of bravery from him right now, not the pitiful, cringing image of a cornered animal she saw before her.

"What... what does he want?" Rudy stammered.

She shrugged. "I don't know, but he did say he wasn't planning to hurt you."

"I can't bring his daughter back!"

"It was a daughter? What happened to her?"

His right hand waved aimlessly at the ceiling. "I-it's a long story.

Someone killed his daughter and... and the police ruined the case, and he blames me for not filing federal charges."

"Rudy, I don't know anything about it, but if he wants something you can promise, for God's sake, promise it!"

He sat motionless, his eyes darting from her to the cockpit area and back until Annette decided she'd had enough.

"Okay. Come on. On your feet."

"You can't do this! Aren't you supposed to protect your passengers?"

he asked in a strained whine.

She felt herself grimace at that. Was she walking a passenger to his death to save the rest, or just complying with what she couldn't change?

If they were going to survive, maybe Rudy Bostich could figure out what to say that Ken wanted to hear. She wasn't an executioner. This was the logical thing to do.

"Come on. It's up to you to talk him down."

"Up to me?"

"He says you're the cause of this, Rudy. That means only you can rectify this. You've got to try."

"And if I refuse?"

Annette looked him in the eye and tried to answer the same question for herself. If he refused, would she look for some burly passenger to help her push him, kicking and screaming, into the cockpit? Or would she just wait for Ken to get mad enough to really fly them into a mountain?

"Rudy? Now. Let's go. I can't reason with him. Maybe you can." "I... can't."

She leaned down to speak directly in his ear.

"Rudy, you're supposed to be a leader. We need you to lead and show some confidence. You're acting like a coward."

The words stung him as she'd hoped, and slowly he got to his feet and moved into the aisle beside her. She pointed toward the cockpit and he moved with a leaden gait to the door. She knocked three times and heard the electronic lock release click, and saw the door swing open.

"Come in, Mr. Bostich, and have a seat," Ken said. The electronic trigger was evident in his left hand.

For a second Bostich stood there, motionless, as Annette thought about grabbing the crash axe, or kicking Bostich forward into the cockpit, or falling on Ken Wolfe with a stranglehold around his neck.

All pointless ideas, all born of the panic she had to control.

Slowly, Rudy Bostich moved into the cockpit and looked at the empty copilot's seat.

"Close the door, Counselor," Ken ordered.

Bostich turned and looked at Annette with a trapped, haunted expression, his face a pasty white, as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Million Air Executive Terminal, Salt Lake City International Airport. 1:04 P.M.

Kat Bronsky pointed to a sleek Gulfstream IV business jet sitting in front of the Million Air terminal on the east side of the airport.

"There! Pull up right in front of him."

"That's the one?" the officer at the wheel of the airport police car asked as he checked the taxiway they were about to cross.

"November-Five-Lima-Lima is the 'n' number. That looks like her."

Kat folded the cell phone and stuffed it into her handbag with the note on which she'd scribbled Frank's relayed information. "They're supposed to be ready to start as soon as I can dive in the door."

The officer negotiated a turn onto the Million Air ramp and stomped on the accelerator. "You FBI folks have some awesome power if you just reach out and snatch up a Gulfstream at will."

"I think we're chartering them," she answered. "I just hope I don't have to put it on my Visa card."

He brought the car to a near skidding halt fifteen feet in front of the jet as Kat snapped off her seatbelt and yanked open the door, hurling a last thank you over her shoulder as she grabbed her handbag and the portable aviation radio and leapt from the right seat.

There was a uniformed pilot with three stripes on his shoulders standing by the stairway to the aircraft, and she waved at him as she ran in his direction.

"Five-Lima-Lima?" "Yes, ma'am," he said.

"I'm Agent Bronsky. Let's go ahead and start."

He hesitated. "You're... the FBI agent we're expecting?"

"You were expecting Elliot Ness?" she asked with a slightly sarcastic smile.

Jeff Jayson chuckled as Kat bounded up the stairs to the plush interior with the copilot on her heels. She paused at the top and looked to the right, startled to see an impeccably groomed man in a gray business suit sitting in a large swivel chair.

"Ah, hello," Kat said.

"Hello to you," he replied, getting out of the seat with his hand outstretched. "I'm Bill North."

"Agent Kat Bronsky of the FBI," she said, taking his hand. "Are you one of the pilots?"

He smiled and arched a thumb in the direction of the cabin behind him.

"Nope. I'm the owner."

Kat glanced toward the cockpit momentarily, aware that the copilot had retracted the stairs and was locking the door. She looked back at North, who had shoved his hands in his pants pockets and was leaning against the side of the galley. His eyes were a smoky blue, and they were studying her with a calm intensity.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I guess I'm confused. I thought we were chartering this jet."

Bill North shook his head no. "One of your people called over and said there was a major emergency, you needed a corporate jet fueled and ready to go almost instantly, and here we were on the ramp getting ready to go to Colorado Springs," he shrugged. "I'll send your director a bill for the costs later, but, no, this isn't a charter. Just a concerned citizen."

The sound of the left engine winding up whispered through the heavily soundproofed cabin.

Kat smiled back. "I'd better get up there with your pilots, but, thank you. We've got a hijacked airliner I need to stay in contact with."