The Poseidon Project, page 19
Lukas and Taylor remained quiet. There was no rationalizing with Malik as he described decades of pain and sadness. “I’m sorry for you and your family, Malik. It must have been horrible for all of you. But we were never in Syria. Never,” Molly pleaded.
Taylor noticed that during the intensity of the argument, Zarak had left the cockpit and the plane on autopilot. He glanced over at Donna, who noticed the same. Their eyes communicated that they both knew what they had to do.
****
Donna stood and excused herself to use the restroom near the galley. Malik and Zarak continued to argue with the women, John, and Lukas. Tory could see what her father was planning, so she walked toward Zarak to distract him further. Molly had been watching Donna and played into the argument with Malik and Zarak. Donna suddenly exited the restroom, and then she and Taylor bolted toward the cockpit, entered it, and slammed the door, quickly locking it behind them. Since 9/11, all airplanes were fitted with reinforced cockpit doors, first in commercial aircraft and then in private planes. Taylor and Donna quickly prepared to take control of the Goose.
“Good distraction, Donna. Using the restroom was a great move.”
“Thanks, but I really had to go to the toilet, and, well, here we are, sir.”
“We all thank your bladder then,” Taylor responded.
Predictably, Malik and Zarak began pounding on the cockpit door. Donna gave Taylor a look of concern, nervous the door may not hold. “Double reinforced steel and bullet-proof carbon fiber doors with six locking pins will keep them out. I’m glad I got that upgrade, now that I think of it,” Taylor said. Donna sighed with relief.
“Now let’s try and head back,” Taylor told her as he disengaged the autopilot and weighed scenarios on how to return to Dubai. “I’m taking a long, wide turn, so hopefully they don’t notice. We’ve got to get the hell out of Iranian air space.”
“What if they do notice?” Donna asked. She interpreted Taylor’s silence that he was still working on that plan.
The wide sweeping turn back toward Dubai took over fifteen minutes, and the extended maneuver seemed to be working. The pounding on the cockpit door had stopped and when Taylor could periodically check through the peephole, there seemed to be little happening, except for arguments between passengers and Molly’s face etched with concern for a very wounded Patrick. Nobody seemed to notice their change of direction.
“Have you gotten through to Dubai air control yet?” Taylor asked Donna.
She shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll keep trying.”
Taylor’s arm, shoulder, and side throbbed in pain. It hurt to breathe, and he felt fatigued, like he could fall asleep right where he was. It was normal for pilots to get tired while flying. The cabin pressure alone was equal to about seven thousand feet elevation, which made his heart beat faster and his breathing quicker than normal. Plus, there was the stress of being shot twice, hijacked, and then commandeering his own plane back from the hijackers. It was not a normal day at the office. In the distance, he could see a sliver of blue, the Persian Gulf, which meant they were getting close to exiting Iranian airspace. He estimated they would be in Dubai in about forty-five to sixty minutes.
Taylor accelerated the Goose to get out of Iran even faster. He and Donna scanned the horizon and the air around them since they were likely raising alarms with Iran air traffic control. A non-responsive fugitive plane flying on an improvised flight path would provoke a response. A deafening roar broke them out of their concentration. Four fighter jets thundered overhead. Taylor’s combat experience flashed back as he glanced at the emblems on the fuselage. They were MiG-29 combat fighters from the Islamic Republic of Iran Air Force.
“Shit, we’ve got friends,” Donna cursed.
“Iranians. Fuck, I was wondering when they’d show up. Damn it. How far until we’re out of their air space?”
“I’m guessing ten minutes, sir,” Donna responded.
“Let’s make it five. Increase airspeed to maximum.”
“Roger.” Donna complied and pushed the throttle to accelerate to maximum speed. “Airspeed at max. We’re at 665 mph. Aren’t MiGs supersonic?”
Taylor nodded. “Our goal is to get into either Oman or Emirati airspace. We can’t outrun these guys and just pray they don’t shoot us down.”
The Iranian shoreline was still several miles below and Iranian airspace likely did not stop at their shores. Now it became a game of aeronautical chicken. Would the Iranians expect the American plane to surrender, or would they shoot it down and risk an international provocation?
“Reduce altitude to twenty-five-thousand feet!” Taylor shouted to Donna as he focused ahead, “Let’s show them we are not aggressive.” He hoped his strategy was the correct one. Within less than a minute, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Strait of Hormuz and hundreds of cargo and tanker ships dotting the surface of the Persian Gulf. “Almost there,” Taylor said. “Visual on the MiGs yet?”
Donna was just about to respond when she heard popping noises outside the plane. All four fighter jets unleashed a flurry of bullets from their guns. “Shit, they’re strafing us!”
“Call Dubai air control!” Taylor commanded.
The quick volley of bullets stopped as swiftly as it began. Taylor jumped from his seat and checked the peephole. No injuries. The fuselage was another story. The outside sunlight dotted the interior of the plane. Bullet holes were visible in the cabin wall and ceiling. This looked bad.
“Captain,” Donna called to him. “We’re losing speed! Controls feel sluggish.”
“Damnit, they saw our tail number as registered in America and probably hit us somewhere strategic like the engines or wings. Anything wrong on the sensors? Fluid levels? Fuel?”
“Nothing I can see, sir.”
Taylor strained his neck to check for the fighters. He could not find the MiGs. They may have turned back or were hovering behind them, out of view, waiting to make their final strike. “How soon until we enter Emirati air space?” Taylor shouted.
Donna studied the controls. “I think we just did.”
Chapter 29
Shortly after crossing into friendlier air space, Taylor dropped altitude to ten thousand feet to reduce the pressure inside the cabin and avert a fatal decompression. The strafing by the Iranians pierced the Goose’s fuselage with small holes, but like a chipped automobile windshield, it was only a matter of time before those small holes became big ones. Taylor heard two shots ring out from inside the cabin. Shit! Now what? He pressed the radio to call Dubai air control. “This is Spectrum N-4136A, we have gunfire in the cabin. Hijackers have not breached the cockpit, and pilots have full control of the aircraft.”
“Voice recognition confirmed as Captain Taylor Pastore. Where is your co-pilot? Please have him respond.”
“Dubai tower, the other pilot is one of the hijackers. His passport is registered under Diego Paul, country of Mexico.” Taylor held his finger over his lips signaling Donna to not respond.
There was a long pause before the control tower answered. “Confirmed. We are sending two aircraft to escort you.”
“Voice recognition? They obviously didn’t use that when we took off from Dubai,” Donna whispered.
Taylor opened communication again. “Dubai tower, give me five minutes. I need first to de-escalate the situation on board. The hijackers have firearms. We have a hostage situation with at least one injured on board. This is Taylor Pastore. I’m the aircraft owner and registered pilot. I’ll radio when I’m ready. I’m going to de-pressurize the cabin.”
There was silence for a moment. “Confirmed, and good luck,” Dubai air control responded.
They remained at ten thousand feet. Taylor had an idea. Suddenly, the intercom button glowed. Someone was trying to call them. “Pastore,” Taylor answered, thinking it was one of the hijackers.
“Hi, it’s me.” It was Lukas. “Two shots blasted into the fuselage. Malik is holding my mother hostage with a gun.”
“Lukas, listen to me. Make sure everyone is belted in. Things are about to get—”
Another bullet missed Lukas’ head but pierced the skin of the aircraft. The third bullet to do so, and there was no telling what else the Iranian air force had damaged in their assault.
“Can the plane hold up to bullet holes?” Lukas asked Taylor. “Are we going to have a decompression?”
“We should be okay,” Taylor responded. “Make sure you have oxygen ready. Hang on!”
Zarak stormed toward the back of the plane and grabbed Lukas by the arm, dragging him to the front and forcibly pushing him down into a seat next to Molly.
“Oh good,” Malik sneered. “I have both of you together. This will make things more efficient.”
“Malik,” Molly pleaded. “Don’t hurt my family. Kill me, but not them. But it won’t change anything, Malik. You’ll still be that angry little man blaming the world for all his problems.”
Malik’s face burned with rage when he heard this. “Shut up, bitch!” Malik slapped Molly across the face so hard her nose started to bleed. All civility left his face. “I’ve heard enough of you for a lifetime.” Zarak held back Lukas, who struggled to defend his mom with a blow to Malik’s face.
In the cockpit, Taylor ordered Donna to put on an oxygen mask. “Oh shit, I was afraid that was what you were going to do, sir.”
“Did they ever teach you this maneuver in the Army? Great way to discipline unruly passengers. We called it The Puking Porpoise.”
Donna rolled her eyes. “Shit, sir, this is kind of insane. The Army tends to stick to the tried and true. You Air Force guys are fucking crazy. With all due respect, captain.”
“Guilty as charged. I’ll take that as a vote of confidence.” Taylor joked, “I’m gonna need your help in case I pass out, plus, I’ve only got one good arm, so you’ll have to make sure we don’t crash. You ready?” Donna nodded, a professional look of panic in her eyes.
“What if we both pass out?”
Taylor winked at her. “You can do it. Climb to twenty-five thousand feet.”
Suddenly, the Goose pitched upward at a steep incline, enough to knock pillows and blankets in the cabin onto the floor. Malik and Zarak lost their footing, the sudden change in pitch causing them to steady themselves using the walls of the fuselage.
Lukas’ eyes were wide with anxiety, not knowing what was coming next.
“Hang on. I think this is going to be bad,” he whispered to the passengers near him.
“Oh shit, Dad…really?” Tory exclaimed.
Lukas checked that everyone was belted in except for Malik and Zarak, who were still standing and focused on Molly and her friends.
Molly sat nervously as Malik pointed the gun at her from the floor. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry from exhaustion and fear. She calmed herself the best she could, considering these were likely her final moments. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Patrick leap out of his seat and onto her lap, his back facing Malik, shielding Molly.
“Sorry, ma’am, I know this is awkward,” he apologized. It was the last thing he said before Malik’s gun popped, and Patrick’s weight slumped into her.
“Now!” Taylor commanded, having heard the gunshot in the cabin. He and Donna, both wearing supplemental oxygen masks, simultaneously pushed the yoke forward and drove the Goose into a steep dive. Taylor depressurized the cabin with one switch.
“Holy crap, I’ve never done this, sir!” Donna yelled through her mask.
“Steady dive to fifteen-thousand feet, then stabilize,” Taylor commanded as he stared into the blue of the Persian Gulf directly below them.
The sudden plunge caused Malik to lose his footing as he fired the gun to kill Molly. Instead, the bullets tore through the ceiling of the plane. Disoriented, Malik continued to fire his gun, and three more bullets pierced the skin of the plane, and one went through the cabin door.
Molly could see blue sky through the holes as she and Lukas wrestled their oxygen masks on. She continued to hold on to Patrick’s motionless body. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead, but she continued to share her oxygen with him. Patrick had taken bullets in his back to protect her. Again.
Linda, Betty, and John held their heads down in order to avoid stray bullets as Malik continued to fire wildly. They had also managed to get their oxygen masks on during the plane’s sudden drop. Tory had fallen during the plunge and struggled to pull herself into a seat, quickly strapping the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.
The Goose had descended significantly and continued downward, and Taylor commanded Donna to pitch it even steeper. The plane felt like it was plummeting vertically, which reminded Donna of the first time she and Wilma had tackled one of the steepest roller coasters in the world at Cedar Point amusement park. She had oxygen but struggled to maintain her sense of balance and reality.
Neither Malik nor Zarak were able to get oxygen and were in the early stages of hypoxia. Malik gasped for breath and started to lose his vision as he writhed on the floor, shooting at shadows and villains in his brain. He continued to shoot the gun almost as a reflex. Zarak vomited and crawled along the floor of the cabin aimlessly, gasping for breath. Malik’s heart raced as he struggled to breathe.
Taylor stabilized the plane for a few seconds. “Climb to twenty-five-thousand feet!” Donna and he pulled back on the yoke, and the Goose started another steep climb. “Donna, can you hold the plane while I check the cabin?” Donna nodded and continued to climb another fifteen thousand feet while Taylor peered through the peephole in the cockpit door. Lukas, Tory, and the rest of the passengers were okay, and Patrick was sitting on Molly’s lap for some reason. Malik lay on his back as Zarak pulled himself up the aisle by grabbing the seatbacks. He checked his watch. Two minutes until the UAE Air Force showed up. Taylor jumped into his seat and fastened himself in. “Descend to eight thousand feet!” Donna nodded and complied with Taylor’s lead. They pitched the plane downward into an even steeper dive.
Inside the cabin, Zarak screamed, blood streaming from his mouth. He still held his pistol, but his eyes were glazed with disorientation and oxygen deprivation. He screamed in anger as he pointed his pistol toward the cockpit door. Suddenly, the plane plunged, and the g-forces threw him into the bullet-riddled ceiling.
Malik lay on his back, eyes wild in confusion, his oxygen-starved brain unable to perceive dream from reality. He lay motionless when suddenly, he saw a large, silhouetted figure that loomed over him like an angel. His mind hallucinated the figure was here to save him. Father? he thought until suddenly, the figure disappeared into the sky. A large chunk of the aircraft’s bullet-pierced ceiling panel broke away from the plane. Sunlight instantly flooded the cabin. Zarak’s body was sucked out of the plane and somersaulted into the heavens.
Taylor and Donna immediately felt the drag on the plane suddenly change. The nimble jet suddenly responded like a barge, plummeting out of control and falling toward the city below. Taylor yelled over to Donna, “I think we’ve been hit, or part of the plane broke free. Feels like a hull breach.”
Donna nodded. “Let’s try and stabilize her. I still have flaps and speed controls! I’m descending to five thousand feet,” Taylor yelled.
Malik crawled across the floor and pulled himself to his feet. He was furious and still a bit delirious from the depressurization.
Lukas stood by the galley, steadying himself by hanging onto a divider curtain, his eyes squinting from flying debris. Papers, utensils, glassware, and other items not secured whirled in a tornado of objects caused by the rapid descent and wind entering the cabin from the gaping hole. Everyone else remained buckled in, including Patrick, who still lay motionless, cradled in Molly’s lap. Lukas noticed that despite a terrifying series of climbs, plunges, and the chance that they would crash into the water below, everyone on board was exceptionally calm.
Except for Malik, who approached him with hate in his eyes. “You have ruined everything!” He spat at Lukas. “I will not be beaten by a sodomite!”
Lukas was done with this guy and his archaic insults. “I bet you already have been beaten by one. I’m just the first openly gay sodomite you know about!” Lukas forced a laugh with the sole purpose of further enraging Malik. “Ten more minutes, Malik, and we’re on the ground. Your career is over. You’ll be arrested when we land, and you’ll be lucky if the Emirati shoot you! I’ve heard their prisons are epic! My mother called you a toad, but that’s an insult to toads everywhere.”
Lukas glanced at the bullet-riddled cabin door and had an idea. “Put the gun down, Malik. It’s probably empty anyway. You wasted bullets shooting the up the plane.”
Surprisingly, Malik dropped the gun and charged at Lukas with complete hatred and fury. Lukas knew this was his chance. Malik screamed something in a language Lukas didn’t understand, his hands outstretched ready to choke Lukas’ throat. With a second to spare, Lukas leapt out of the way, and Malik crashed into the cabin door at full force. He fell to his knees, stunned. He attempted to pull himself back to his feet, and Lukas held onto the billowing curtain. Lukas saw what Malik grabbed to pull himself up. It was not something he should be touching. “Hang on!” was the last thing Malik heard before the cabin door swung open, and he slowly tumbled forward. Malik’s brain hallucinated due to the effects of hypoxia, but now he was like a free bird, flying solo toward the blue Persian Gulf below him.
Taylor felt his plane rattling apart. “Can you hold her for a few seconds while I look through the peephole?”
Donna gave him a thumbs up. The Goose bounced from the turbulence caused by wind and temperature changes. Taylor unbuckled his belt and crawled out of his seat to stand next to the cockpit door. He was still moving slowly due to his injuries from the gunfight with Malik’s henchmen several hours earlier. That feels like a week ago, he thought as he peered through the spy hole and gasped. “Oh my God,” was all he could say.
