Mon Apr 23, 2007 3:56 pm by H.Q. Victor
The red light slowly pulsed in the carry on bag. It timed perfectly on the second. Sara never saw it in the side, stitched in perfectly with the red sequins sew there in the pattern of roses.
The cab pulled up at the well manicured area of the Hilton Hotel. Sculptures adorned the main entrance to the lobby, carved out of a beautiful marble. The faces of the art were lost on the man with the graying hair as he entered the lobby and strode purposefully to the check in desk.
“I believe you have a reservation for me?”
The clerk looked up as the man approached his counter. “The name Sir?”
“Kavanagh, Eric Kavanagh. It was arranged a week ago.”
“Ah yes Mr. Kavanagh, we have your suite all set up. If I could see some identification first though?”
The man pulled his wallet out of his suit jacket and opened to his Illinois drivers licence. It was a spot on picture, better than most drivers license photos. Even if he had never been to the state. As he rode the elevator to the 11th floor, he used the time to get an overall view of the hotel. The glassed enclosed lift afforded him an expansive view, but it also removed a potential cover blind.
He put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door after the bell hop left. He had to insure people saw him here, but also didn’t get too good a look. The plan he had set in to motion at the airport, payed for by a middle eastern gentleman, was now irreversible. He didn’t care about politics, nor sides. Only the bottom line which would bring him the most wealth. The others, set in motion as well, would find exactly what they were looking for.
He opened up the bag he carried and removed the laptop he had added to it at the airport. Using the rooms internet connection, he hooked up the modem to dial up. It was slower than wireless, but would allow he a small measure of security with the Ghost program. He opened the custom e-mail program and began the messages that would alert the connection of the Gift being sent, and when it should be expected to be opened. He received an immediate reply and closed down his connection. He then opened another program that would scrub his computer of any messages sent or received in the last twenty four hours. It cost him a bit, but was worth it to cover his tracks. It was the reason he had survived so long in his line of work.
The two men in the cyber café looked at one another. They looked as any other patron of the place, which was well as they didn’t wish to draw any attention to themselves. The message was exactly what they hoped to hear. Now they could move on to the next target. This one would propel the world into more disarray and bring them much glory. It would also facilitate them leaving this country for seclusion for a month or so. They quickly gathered their things together and walked out of the Café as other foreign visitors arrived for their morning espressos.
Sara was relaxing now, finally getting comfortable in the seat. She wanted to get an hour or two of sleep before they landed. It was draining her having to stay seated for so long. She wanted a brisk walk, to get her motivated. Instead she had to settle for reading and the dinner movie they had shown, “Forest Gump”.
She grew more and more restless. Something inside of her stirring her, not letting her alone. She wondered of God was trying to tell her something. She took a moment to pray, to seek a little calm to the growing sense of dread she felt.
The plane began to descend, the Fasten Your Seatbelt sign lit up and then the Captain came in over the speaker system stating they were now descending for a landing in Sydney Australia.
For some strange reason, Sara felt she needed to use the restroom. She was fine earlier, but now need to go, badly. She unbuckled the seat belt and moved to the first class lavatory, but found it occupied, so she descended the spiral stairs to the lower level and found a lavatory available there.
“Lord, what is going on, I have this terrible sense of dread, of something bad about to happen. What is it, what are you trying to tell me.” Sara sat on the closed seat, praying harder than she had ever prayed before.
“Flight 1122, this is Sydney approach. We have you on scope and will me monitoring as you approach. A note for you though, please contact your company for a private message.”
“Roger Sydney approach, will contact them via cell phone” the Captain replied and reached for his flight case. His razar phone should still have a good signal at this altitude.
His face grew so pale the co-pilot thought he was going to pass out. He folded the phone and dropped it on the deck. “Oh my God in heaven!”
“Nick what is it, what’s going on that’s got you white as a sheet?”
“Tony, someone e-mailed a bomb threat for this flight, one that said it will be detonated before we land.”
“You got to be kidding me, who would do such a thing?”
“They said the message contained the line, Praise to Allah, Death to the infidels.”
“We have got to get this plane down, Now!” Tony growled as he increased thrust to get more speed. If it was on a timer, they could beat it, maybe.
Sara was still in the lavatory when the flight attendant came over the speaker asking that all passengers return to their seats and fasten their seat belts. Sara felt an even greater urgency to pray now.
“Approach checklist complete.”
“Roger Tony, leave the gear up until we get closer. Ditching at sea with the gear down would tear us apart.”
“You got that right, how much farther to the coast?”
Computer says fifteen miles, “Sydney approach control, this is flight 1122, we are declaring an emergency. “
“Flight 1122, what emergency are you declaring.”
“Sydney, a possible, I say again, possible bomb on aircraft.”
Edited by - Finalday on 4/24/2007 4:33:07 PM