The hijacker wasn’t there. And hurtling past the window was a landscape Rand didn’t recognize: sand and cactus and a few stunted trees.
But first things first. “You okay?” he asked Maxine. “I didn’t mean to crush you but I was afraid—”
“Shit!” The insurance salesman was hyperventilating. “He’s crazy! Did you see that? He tried to shoot me!”
Rand grimaced. “Buck up, fella. You survived to tell about it.”
The man groaned. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” He stumbled to his feet and staggered forward to the rest room, bouncing side to side with the motion of the plane.
Into a tense silence, a petulant voice intruded. “Grandma, I’m hungry!”
Jessica, the little girl in the seat behind them. A tug on his sleeve made Rand start; the child stood in the aisle, looking up at him plaintively.
Maxine’s smile didn’t mask her concern. “Honey, you have to sit down.” She dug around in her shoulder bag. “Here.” She held up a candy bar. “You can have this if you’ll get back into your seat and—”
“Jessica!” The little girl’s grandmother sounded panicky. “Get back in this seat at once!”
“Choc-late!” Jessica escaped her grandmother’s clutches and lunged for the chocolate bar. She grabbed it, then fumbled at the wrapper.
Rand tried to take it from the chubby hands. “Let me help you, hon.”
“No, let me help.”
The hijacker had crept up on them all unseen. Now he reached for the candy bar.
Jeez, this guy would take candy from babies? Talk about rotten!
Jessica lunged for the chocolate. “Mine!” she screamed, holding the bar in both hands and backing away. She whirled around, then dashed down the aisle as fast as her chubby little legs would carry her.
The gunman straightened, swaying with the roll of the plane, and his arm came up. All Rand could see was the revolver rising, a finger already tightening on the trigger.
CHAPTER TWO
JESSICA’S GRANDMOTHER let out a bloodcurdling screech and leaped into the aisle, blocking it. Her frantic gaze met that of the gunman and she screamed again. She turned, then stumbled after Jessica, blundering into the curtain.
“Crazy old bat.” All the gunman’s attention was riveted on the floundering woman. His lip curled and he squeezed the trigger.
Rand acted purely on instinct. Grabbing the gun hand, he shoved it up and the bullet whistled harmlessly into the overhead luggage bin. Struggling into the aisle, he wrestled for the gun, slowly forcing the hijacker back.
In the cramped space, the man teetered, swore. Balance gone, he made a panicky grab for the last straw—Rand, who fought off the grasping hands.
The hijacker toppled backward, bouncing off the metal arm of a seat on his way down. He landed flat on his back, his head striking the floor with a solid thump. The gun popped free, ending up at Rand’s feet. The hijacker didn’t move.
Breathing hard, Rand bent to retrieve the weapon. The plane lurched, bounced, skidded, knocking him to his hands and knees—but he had the gun. He struggled up, to find Maxine kneeling in the aisle seat. Her eyes behind the ugly glasses were wide and scared.
She gave voice to the obvious. “You could have been killed!”
“You wanted me to do something, didn’t you?”
The insurance guy, back from the rest room, pointed to the unconscious man in the aisle. “He’s out cold. One down and one to go!”
Rand hefted the comforting weight of the pistol in his hand. He didn’t give a hoot in hell what the insurance guy had to say but for some reason thought Maxine’s opinion might be useful. “Now what?”
“How about this,” she responded promptly. “You stand in the entryway beside the cockpit.” She’d obviously given their situation some thought. “I’ll scream my head off, and when the other hijacker comes out to see what’s going on, you get the drop on him.”
Rand groaned. This sounded like a recipe for disaster. “There’s gotta be an easier way.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “You think of it, then. This plane is going to stop soon and when the guy up front sees what you’ve done to his partner—” She made an appropriate slashing motion across her own throat, complete with sound effects.
Her point was well taken. A gun battle inside an airplane would not be a good idea. After a moment’s consideration, he said, “You sure this’ll work?”
“As sure as you were that we’d be off this plane three hours ago.”
She had him there. “Lacking a better idea…”
The level of hysterical wailing in tourist class steadily increased, although first-class passengers appeared too stunned to join in. Jessica’s shrieks soared above all else, but he deliberately shut out the racket. “You.” He indicated the insurance agent. “Keep an eye on that guy. If he so much as blinks, slug him.”
“Hard enough to make him see stars for a month,” the man promised. He dragged a heavy hardcover book out of his seat pocket and held it at the ready.
“All set?” Rand looked at Maxine.
She took a deep breath and nodded. The woman wasn’t short on nerve.
Satisfied, Rand stepped over the unconscious hijacker, then crept toward the front of the airplane. The revolver gave him confidence, although he hadn’t held one in years. His father and great-grandfather had taken pains to teach him how to handle firearms when he was just a kid, before the days of political correctness.
The plane came to a final grinding stop. Holding his breath, Rand placed an ear flat against the cockpit door and strained to hear. Nothing. He turned and positioned himself to the side, where he’d be hidden when the door opened. Maxine, standing near the flight attendants’ galley on the left, looked to him for a signal.
He nodded and she nearly split his eardrums.
“Eeeee…! No! Stop! Don’t come any closer! I’m warning you! Aaargh! Eeeeee…!”
The cockpit door slammed open so hard that it banged against the barrel of Rand’s pistol. For a moment he couldn’t see Maxine and terror swamped him. If he screwed up and she was the one who got hurt—
“Dammit, what’s goin’ on out here? I’ve had just about enough of—”
Rand shoved the door with all his strength and raised the pistol, fully prepared to shoot the crap out of the hijacker. Instead, he looked into the blank face of a man who didn’t know what had hit him…a man slowly crumpling, knocked silly when the heavy door connected solidly with his head.
The insurance salesman rushed up “We got him!”
The pilot barged through the door, rumpled and a bit crazed. Dried blood crusted his forehead, but he didn’t appear to be seriously hurt. He stopped short at the sight of his tormentor sprawled on the floor. “What the hell!”
The co-pilot joined them, taking everything in at a glance. “Where’s the other one?” he demanded.
“In first class, dead to the world.” The insurance guy pointed.
Rand finally got a word in edgewise. “Where are we?”
“Mexico,” the pilot said. “It’s a miracle we’re still alive. Those guys wanted to go to Argentina. By the time they finally agreed to a fuel