Ultimate Power (22 page)

Neil slid into the seat beside the man.

"You military?"

Neil nodded. "Yes, why?"

"You look the part."
 

So much for the disguise.

"Look, there are two guys patrolling the front of the plane," he said, angling his eyes toward the front. "Their two backups are seated over there."

"Where?" Neil asked.

"Row C, both sides of the plane."

"I thought as much." Neil craned his neck, scanning the aisles. "There's two more seated in row M, that makes ten." He turned to face Conrad. "Are all of them armed?"
 

The older man shrugged. "Probably." He nodded at the terrorist patrolling the front of the plane. "AK-47's. They managed to smuggle the weapons onboard, disassembling them to pass through airport security. They re-assembled them onboard, so yes, let's assume all of them are armed."

Neil pursed his lips. "Where are the other two bastards?" He made up his mind and removed his Glock from the back of his pants and handed it to the Sergeant.
 

The man gave him a questioning look.
 

"Insurance. Stay seated and keep your head down. We have more than enough men aboard to handle the situation, but you never know."

Sergeant Conrad nodded. "Good luck."

Neil took his opportunity when the terrorist in front popped his head into the cockpit. He stood up and strode back to the food prep area, Lotner casting him a questioning glance.
 

"We have an NYPD officer on board." He pointed the man out. "I gave him my weapon," Neil said, holding out his hand.

Lotner nodded, slipped off his backpack and pulled out another Glock, handing it to Neil.

Neil checked the magazine. "There are four more Johnny Jihad's in row C, both sides of the plane."
 

He slipped the Glock into his pants and folded the flimsy material of the shirt over the bulge. Separating the curtain an inch, he waited for the hijacker to turn his back again and darted to row M.

The terrorist in front of the plane was about to turn around when Neil shuffled into the seat between the two hijackers and stuck out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Sergeant Neil Allen, Interpol."
Sometimes the direct approach worked best.
 

Neil aimed his Glock in front of his chest, pointing the weapon at the man wearing the Ray Ban's face. "Shut up or I blow your head off."

The man to his left tried to stand up, but Neil pulled him back down. Ray Ban's to his right removed his dark glasses and shook Neil's hand feebly. "Imrahn Lofti. Look man, we're with you, we're undercover."

Neil turned to the other man and stuck out a hand. "Sergeant Neil Allen."

The guy stuttered. "Joe...Joe Jackson."

Neil smiled. "Well, pleased to meet you, Joe. From which agency are you?"

Lofti swallowed. "Uhm, FBI," he said, making it sound like a question.

"Could I see some ID please?"

Joe Jackson nodded, leaned over and unzipped the bag. Stupid move. Neil grabbed his wrist and shoved his weight into Lofti, pinning him against the window. He pulled Joe's arm towards him, exposing his throat and slammed an elbow into it. He planted his Glock against the guy's temple. "How many?"

Joe Jackson held his throat, gagging, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. He couldn't speak, even if he wanted to.
 

Neil looked up as a young girl stood up in her chair and watched them with large eyes.

He smiled and put his finger to his lips. "Shhh."

She nodded but didn't sit down.

He turned in his seat and lifted his weight off Lofti, shoved the gun into his ribs. "How many?"

The guy lifted his hands defensively and shut his eyes. "Glory be to Allah, you will not stop us."

Neil slammed the muzzle against his cheek. "How many are you?"

The man shook his head.

Neil did it twice more, this time on his kneecaps. The man doubled over, but Neil ripped him back by his hair. "How many?" he hissed.

The man sucked in ragged breaths through his teeth, his eyes squashed closed. "Twelve."
 

Neil nodded. "Where?"

"Four patrolling, the rest in front, rows C."

"I know about them, where else?"

"Row Q as well," Lofti whimpered.

Neil slammed a fist into Lofti's temple. His head slumped forward. Joe Jackson next to him was till gagging, his hands clutching his throat. Neil finished him off with a knee to the face.

Neil stood up and chopped his hand down three times, pointing to the front of the plane and forming a C with his hand.
Take out the guards in front and head for row C.

The passengers shrieked as Barak appeared from behind a curtain and fired twice, Liberman took the shortest route, vaulting over the centre aisle, stepping in people's laps, M-4 ready. Liberman dashed to the front, heading for row C. Neil didn't look back as gunfire stuttered. "Stay down, stay down!" he shouted. "We're here to help."

The two men that had been patrolling the front of the plane had disappeared, probably laying dead in one of the aisles; Neil had never seen Barak miss his target.

Neil stopped beside row Q, scanning left and right before pointing his Glock at two Arabian men in the centre aisle. They looked up at him, wide-eyed, mouths gaping. "Show me your hands."

They slowly lifted their hands. Neil yanked the first guy out of his chair, keeping the gun pointed on his partner. Pushing the guy to the ground he rammed his knee into his back and pulled some zip ties from his pocket. "Put your hands behind your back," Neil said, jamming the terrorist's face into the ground.

The man struggled at first but was forced to cooperate when Neil slammed the Glock's butt down on his skull. Neil managed to tie his hands and manhandled him up the aisle, passengers standing up, watching the drama unfold with fearful expressions on their faces.

Neil's head jerked up as he heard the click from a safety being disengaged. Spinning around, he dropped to his knee. Two shots barked close by and he swung his weapon in the direction from where the shots had come from.
 

Sergeant Leo Conrad stood, legs planets wide, a tendril of smoke swirling from the barrel of the Glock. Neil glanced over his shoulder. Lofti lay sprawled on the flat of his back, a neat bullet hole in his head and another in his chest.

"Thanks," Neil said, yanking the second terrorist from his seat and cuffing him as well.
 

"No problem," Conrad said, blowing the barrel like the cowboy in a Clint Eastwood movie. "There should be more."

Neil nodded. "Everyone, stay down!"
 

Neil slowly paced down the aisle, pointing his weapon between the aisles. The passengers held their hands up. Halfway down, he noticed another Arabic man sitting with a newspaper on his lap. "Take the paper away, please sir."

"Sorry, I don't understand."

Neil ripped the paper away.
 

He was smartly dressed and he held a detonation device in his hand. The man stood up and held the device aloft. "I've got a bomb. Drop your weapons or I blow everyone up."

Alexa felt her gyroscope slow down. A minute later, two pairs of hands grabbed her arms and unstrapped her from the device. The booming rhythms and flashing strobe lights continued their macabre disco-torture routine as they dragged her out of the room.

The men held her up by her arms, pulling her like an oversized rag doll her, her feet dragging on the floor behind her. Her head was spinning, the world lurching from side to side and up and down again. This experience felt worse than being strapped to that damn torture machine. She gagged, trying to focus on her breathing again.

She glanced up as they stopped in front of a doorway. It opened, and she was dragged into what looked like an indoor gym with a large pool. The two guards dragged her forward and unceremoniously dumped her into a lounger beside the pool. She sat up and bent forward, resting her head on her arms.
 

Alexa lifted her eyes above her arms, scanning the undulating room, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Wraparound glass windows covered one side of the large room, affording the viewer a panoramic vista of a rocky beach, sharp, tooth-like black rocks and the angry ocean beyond. Rain was pouring down and the wind swept up white spray from the crashing waves beyond the rocks.
 

She turned to look as Major Wayne Rowley swam lazily towards her and climbed out. He ambled towards her, grabbing a towel. Steam rose from his pink skin; the pool was probably heated. "Captain, you look like crap," he said, drying his shoulder-length grey hair with a towel.
 

Alexa managed to chuckle. He didn't look much better - his entire torso covered with scars and lesions.

"This?" he asked, pointing to a scar running from his stomach to his soldier.

She shrugged.
 

"Terries got hold of me in Angola. Those Portuguese were some sick bastards." He was still chewing gum, his mouth making smacking sounds as he spoke.

She put her hand in front of her mouth and burped, concentrating on her breathing again. The spinning in her head was slowing down to a steady and rhythmical sway.

"How did you like my torture chamber?"

She nodded, holding up a finger and burped again. Unable to keep the rising bile in her throat down, she put her head between her legs and barfed. She sat up and wiped her mouth, her entire body shivering. "Excellent, thank you, how long was I strapped to that thing?"

Rowley chuckled. "An hour."

"One hour?" It had felt like days. Alexa sat up straight. "You better do what you want to do with me soon, because we're being tracked. There'll be an army on your doorstep within a couple of hours."

Rowley laughed. "Your GLD?"
 

Alexa nodded, trying to swallow down the bile that was rising in her throat again. Her head had noticed that she wasn't spinning anymore, but her body was still trying to adjust to its new surroundings.

Rowley shrugged, pulling on a white T-shirt. "Those things are worthless here. We use signal jammers over the entire island. No one will track you here, my china."

"They'll follow our flight path."

Again, the irritating grin. He chewed noisily a couple of times before answering. "Did you see what you're wearing?"

She looked at the funny hazmat suit pulled over her clothes.

"It contains Argenmesh which blocks the GPS signals. You can take it off if you want, hey."

"Nah, I'm comfortable, thanks," she said.

"Suit yourself," he said, chuckling at his joke.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He stood up straight and turned his head to her, smiling, chewing, looking smug. "If I had a penny for every time I've heard that question asked to me, lady." He rubbed his head with the towel. "Don't worry, I'm not going to rape you or anything," he said, drying his legs. "I'm not inclined that way." He winked. "That sweet daddy of yours better watch out though, hey," he said and laughed.

"Look Rowley, if I throw you a stick, will you leave?" Alexa asked, massaging her temples. The room had stopped spinning, it was bobbing up and down, like she was sitting on a surfboard in the ocean.

He laughed as he walked over to the far wall and picked up a remote. He switched on a large television set. "Come over here, check this out."

An empty seat was visible on the television. Alexa stood up and steadied herself, trying to walk normally but settling on a steady swagger as she stumbled toward him. A man wearing a black suit, crisp white shirt and a black tie appeared in the picture, sat down. The image only showed his torso and neck, she couldn't see his face. "Captain Guerra, you look like a Parisian street whore who has just received the pounding of her life."
 

Rowley chuckled as Alexa combed her hair with her fingers and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I feel that way," she said and burped. "Who're you?"

The man rested his elbows on the table and formed a pyramid with his neatly manicured fingers. "Allan Sonti, pleased to meet you."

"Do I know you?"

She heard the man snigger. "Do you?"

She sighed. "What do you want?"

"You," the man said and smiled.

"What?"

"I've been following your career with a keen eye, Captain."

Alexa nodded.

"I want to make you an offer."

"What do you mean, you've been following me?" Alexa asked.

The man tsk-tsked. "Dear girl, have you not noticed how the acts of terrorism stopped while you were incapacitated? I gave you a breather to recover from your…, emotional trauma."

She shrugged.
 

"I did that for you!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at the screen. "I was waiting for you to heal before commencing with my plan."

"Tell me about the offer," she said.

"Come work for me and you will be handsomely rewarded. I'll spare the lives of your daughter and Sergeant Allen, your lover. As a matter of fact, today I'm in a generous mood, having seen my lovely Amazonian beauty, in the flesh, so to speak." He waved a hand. "I'll let all of you go."

"No deal, pal."

He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Such a pity." He started to stand up. "Ah well, I tried."

"What are you going to do to us?" she shouted.

He sat down again, his torso heaving a deep sigh. "I'll see if anyone is willing to pay a ransom for you three, I'm sure the General will fetch a handsome price. Then I'll take the money and kill you all."