“I guess not, but I told Bellus that I’d speak to him if he had something urgent for us. Apparently he didn’t, because he backed off. But get this: Bellus thinks he might be on this flight. He called from E17 next door.”
“Is his name on the manifest?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“What the hell?” Cladstrup glanced over toward DuVerlie. “Do you suppose there’s any connection?”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him?”
“I could pick him out of a crowd.”
“Go see if he’s aboard, and I’ll call Lynch and find out if he knows what’s going on.”
DuVerlie jumped up from where he was seated, but Cladstrup 30
waved him back. “It’ll be just a minute,” he told him, going over to the French cop at the door to the boarding tunnel. “I’m going to check out the plane before we board.”
“As you wish,” the cop said, stepping aside.
Cladstrup entered the boarding tunnel and hurried out to the plane, where he showed their tickets and his identification to the stews. “We’ll be just a minute,” he said.
“Is everyone else aboard?”
“Yes, sir. I believe so,” one of the women said. “The preliminary headcount tallies except for you and the other two gentlemen with you. You’ll be the only three in first class.”
“Every other seat is taken?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mind if I look?”
The captain was watching from the cockpit. “Have we got a problem?” he asked.
“Not at all, Captain. There’s a possibility someone we know may be aboard. I’d like to check it out.”
“Make it snappy, I want to get out of here on time.”
“Will do,” Cladstrup said, and he turned and made a quick walkthrough. McGarvey was not among the passengers.
“Is your friend aboard?” the head stew asked.
“No,” Cladstrup said. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried back up the boarding tunnel to the VIP lounge. Roningen was just getting off the phone.
“He’s not aboard,” Cladstrup said. “What’d Lynch have to say?”
“He hasn’t heard anything either, but he’ll check it out.”
“In the meantime?”
“We go to Geneva. What else?”
The American-designed but French-built jeep bumped along the dusty road just off the end of the active runway. From where Boorsch watched from the back of the van, he could only see the one man behind the wheel, and no one else.
This one was probably a supervisor and had been sent out to check on the gate guards.
There’d be no reason for him to bother with a maintenance man on an apparently legitimate call.
But the cop would have to pass right by the van, which was exactly what Boorsch wanted.
He couldn’t afford to have a cop at his back, cutting off his escape route.
When the jeep was about twenty yards away, Boorsch stepped out from behind the van, and waved. The jeep slowed almost immediately.
He knew that he was in plain sight now of anyone with a good set of binoculars who might be watching from the tower, but it could not be helped. He could see with the naked eye that the Swissair jetliner had been backed away from the boarding gate and was now turning out toward the taxiway. Time was running short.
Boorsch walked up onto the road as the jeep pulled up. “Hello. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” the cop said. His name tag read Dubout. “How is it going out here?”
“I have a little problem. I’m happy that you came along. I need a second set of hands for just a moment. It’s that damn antenna assembly.”
“It’ll have to wait. First I have to check on my people.”
Boorsch glanced back in the direction of the guard hut about two miles away. “What, you mean those two at the gate? I don’t think it’s their fault.”
Dubout’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You saw them?”
“Of course. How’d you suppose I got out here?”
“What did you mean: Their fault?”
“The phone, that’s why you’re out here, isn’t it? Their phone is out of order. They asked me to have a look, but I think it’s something wrong with the line. Probably at the box out on the highway.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“Could I just get you to lend me a hand here? It’ll only take a minute. Maybe less.
I need someone to hold a pair of pliers while I tighten a bolt from the other side of the antenna case.”
Dubout hesitated a moment.
“It won’t take any time at all.”
“All right,” Dubout said, setting the parking brake and getting out.
“It’s in the back of my van,” Boorsch said. “Only take a few seconds.”
“Well, let’s get on with it.”
“Sure,” Boorsch said, letting the French cop come around the back of the van first.
He pulled out his pistol at the same time Dubout reared back.
“Mon Dieu.”
Boorsch shoved him forward with his left hand so that they would both be out of sight of anyone watching from the control tower, and shot the man three times in the back of the head.
Dubout fell forward onto the missile’s carrying case. Pocketing his gun, Boorsch shoved the man’s body the rest of the way into the van.
He grabbed the binoculars and studied the far end of the runway. The Airbus had nearly reached the end of the taxiway. It would be taking off within the next sixty to ninety seconds.
Laying down the glasses he snatched up the walkie-talkie. Ordinarily he was calm under pressure, but he’d never had a chance to shoot down an airliner filled with people before. He was getting excited, and nervous.
“One,” he keyed the transmitter.
“Clear.”
“Two.”
“Clear.”
“Three.”
“Clear. What about you?”
“It’s good here,” Boorsch said. The Airbus had turned onto the runway. “Stand by.”
Chapter 6
“Swissair one-four-five, you are cleared for immediate takeoff, runway two-six. Wind two-eight-zero at eight. Barometer two-niner-niner-seven. Switch to departure control at one-two-niner-point-zero-niner out of the pattern. Have a good day.”
“Roger, tower, thank you,” Captain Josef Elver said, advancing the throttles so that the big jetliner could make the turn onto the runway.
“The numbers are green,” his first officer, Claude Piaget, said.
“Roger,” Elver responded as the bird came around onto the runway’s centerline. “Here we go.” He advanced the throttles to the first position.
“Rolling,” Elver said as the A-320 started down the runway, ponderously at first, like a lumbering ox. Ridiculous to think that anything so huge, that weighed so much, could possibly fly.
“On the numbers,” Piaget said calmly.
The runway marker lights began to flash past them in a blur. Captain Elver quickly scanned the flight
