“Should we knock on the door and ask for a ride?”
“What? No!”
“Then how can we use their car?”
“We’re going to borrow it.”
“Borrow… wait… I thought you weren’t a spy? You’re telling me you know how to hotwire a modern car and steal it, with all the interlocks?”
“No, but follow me and stay low. Maybe we’ll be lucky.” He pulled her toward the driveway where a small, late model Toyota was parked, letting go of her hand to slip to the driver’s side.
The door was locked.
He checked the darkened front windows of the home once again before carefully triggering a tiny penlight to scan the interior, looking for a way in, oblivious at first to Jenny’s voice which could barely be heard against the noise of helicopters, traffic, and a distant siren.
“Will.”
No response.
“Will!”
He turned to look at her, then puzzled that she was holding what looked in the dim streetlight like a credit card and pointing to the street.
“What?”
“An X car. A community rental car, is right there, right over there by the curb, and I have a membership.”
“A what?”
He followed her gaze to the tiny two-seater and gave chase as she ran to the driver’s side, sliding her membership card to open the locks.
“You know how to drive one of these?” she asked.
“Drive it? I thought you pedaled it!”
“Funny.”
“The thing’s embarrassing.”
“It’s a smart car.”
“It’s a pregnant roller skate, and we could hardly stand out more if this thing was painted international orange and shooting fireworks.”
“Got a better idea, Mr. Bond?”
“No,” he said, pulling the door open and stuffing himself inside just as a police car squealed around the corner in front of them, it’s headlights a split-second from illuminating the interior of the X car as they swept the line of houses.
Jenny and Will ducked toward each other as if on cue, Jenny almost prone to her right, Will leaning left atop her, down barely enough the stay out of the headlights as the cruiser shot past. Jenny was making a conscious effort to keep her foot from touching the brake and flaring the brake lights in the cop’s rearview mirror.
“Clear, you think?” she asked.
“Couple more seconds.”
“If he sees us, just say we were making out.”
“Jenny, this car’s too small for a kiss, let alone anything more.”
“Yeah, but I’m on the bottom again, and you’re enjoying this!”
Will raised up slowly, scanning behind them, finding the street dark, although the beams from the searching police helicopter were less than a block away.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said.
She fired up the tiny engine and put the car in gear, feeling it lurch away from the curb.
“Right turn at the end of the block.”
“I know the way to the White House, Will. We’ve got to hurry and stay on the main roads. Just… just look casual.”
“Casual?”
“Yes.”
“How the hell does one look casual driving a golf cart down a city street at midnight?”
“I don’t know. Stop scowling… look relaxed.”
“I can’t relax. We’ve got half the town after us.”
“And… that could be a problem,” she said.
“What?”
“I forgot these cars report their GPS position constantly. If someone’s been watching my account…”
“Wonderful. They can just monitor us and intercept us.”
“There’s no other choice, is there?” she asked. “We couldn’t outrun a skateboard in this little thing, but at least it’s moving and we have a little over a half hour.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Aboard Pangia 10 (0410 Zulu)
“They said we’d get an escort, and there they are,” Jerry announced as two Israeli F-15 fighters pulled into wingtip formation, their markings barely visible from the reflection of the lights in the A330’s passenger windows.
“Can we talk to them?” Tom Wilson asked.
“I don’t know. If they have only UHF, we can’t.”
But a male voice cut through the question on the discreet frequency they had set up with Cairo Control.
“Pangia 10, how do you hear?”
“Pangia 10 here. Are you our escort?”
“Affirmative, Pangia. One of us on each wing. And we are relaying a UHF signal that you may not hear in your cockpit.”
“Excuse me… we don’t have UHF.”
“Pangia, we were told to broadcast this just in case. Stand by.”
Jerry glanced at the opposite window, seeing only the reflection of a flashing red position light somewhere in the darkness. A full minute dragged by.
“Pangia 10, would you please check to see if you’ve regained control?”
“I don’t know what you’ve been told, sir, but we didn’t hear anything you broadcasted. But… let me try.”
Jerry grasped the sidestick controller and tried to punch off the autoflight system once again, keeping a shadow of hope alive that maybe magic had been wrought somehow.
But there was no response, and he reported it to the fighter escort.
“Are you guys armed?” Jerry asked.
“We are always in alert status, sir,” the pilot replied, the elliptical response telling enough.
First Class Cabin, Pangia 10
“There’s my lovely keeper,” Moishe Lavi smiled as Ashira slid into the seat beside him. “What, may I ask, is on your mind?”
“You.”
“Really?” he asked, looking pleased.
“I think there’s something you’re not telling me because you wrongly think I’d object.”
Moishe adopted the slightly amused look he was fond of throwing at her when she approached a serious subject. It wasn’t as if he were discounting her, but at heart he was the superior, and one in his position did not adopt a serious expression of interest in a subordinate’s concerns until she’d earned it.
“And what am I to think you would object to?”
It was her turn to smile and sidestep the question. “I’ve long been prepared to give my life to Israel, and I will willingly follow you into whatever lies ahead.”
Moishe was looking at her now with great care, searching her deep brown eyes and for once thinking substantially beyond the sexual.
“Ashira, my love, do you truly think this… this electronic hijacking is my doing? Is that what you’re indicating?”
“Isn’t it?” she asked. “If it is, it’s a stroke of genius, and I’m sure there are others involved to make sure the first strike is the result. You were right all along, of course.”
He started to protest, then thought better of it and merely smiled. “You would follow me into death, then, to eliminate the threat?”
“Of course. I suppose that means we haven’t much time, but I wanted to tell you.”
“And you would be disappointed if I told you that I have had nothing to do with the problems on this airliner tonight?”
“I understand that you need to say that. I suppose I just wanted to see it in your eyes. I knew you wouldn’t let us down, even after losing office.”
He took a deep breath and prepared to say more, but the PA system clicked on:
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Tollefson again. We have restored radio contact with the ground and have a great number of people and agencies trying to help us restore control of the airplane, and we have made some progress. But as we approached Tel Aviv, some of you may have noted that we picked up a protective escort of Israeli fighters off each wing. We are in contact with them. We are not out of tricks, so to speak, but the reality is that we just passed over the airport we left so many hours ago, Ben Gurion International in Tel Aviv, and whatever electronic bandit has locked us up did not release the controls but turned us apparently back in the direction of the last major port-of-call for this flight, which was Hong Kong. Of course we do not have sufficient fuel to reach anywhere close to Hong Kong, so we have to resolve this within the hour. And one of our greatest concerns is that in approximately one hour we will have overflown Jordan and Iraq and will be approaching the Iranian border with no permission to cross. I will communicate with you when there are any changes.”