Shayne found a button labeled Cockpit and pushed it quickly. But apparently the hijackers had arranged a more elaborate signal. Moss backed into view through the curtain at the end of the passageway to the cockpit. Shayne, in his monster mask, gave him the OK signal with thumb and forefinger. Moss nodded and disappeared.
Going down the aisle, Shayne tapped Ward on the shoulder. The Negro started violently. Shayne took him back to the galley. Here he pressed the Brazilian’s thirty-eight into his hand, made a quick silencing motion, and started back up the aisle.
As he was passing Mary Ocain’s seat, the plane seemed to crash into a wall. Everything not strapped down went flying, including Mary and Shayne. He landed painfully. Mary caromed off the back of the seat in front of her and ended in the aisle beside him. She had a twenty-two automatic in one fist. He clamped his big hand over it and whispered, “Cut it out. I’m Shayne.”
“Oh, God. I was going to-”
Moss’s voice called, “Nothing to worry about. Ran into a little turbulence. Jaime, let the stews take orders for drinks. The captain wants Scotch, I’m certain. I think I’ll have the same.”
Shayne picked his way along the aisle, which was littered with bags and glasses and boxes of Kleenex. He entered the cockpit.
Moss, as he had announced, was holding a gun to the back of Lassiter’s neck. The co-pilot and flight engineer, both looking pale and scared, glanced at Shayne, then turned their heads quickly.
Moss saw the reflected mask in the windshield. “It’s OK. It’s OK. No sweat. Do you know what this madman tried to do? Kick us downstairs. I saw it coming, and luckily there’s nothing wrong with my reflexes. Get back there and tell the girls to hustle up with the Scotch.”
Shayne touched the nape of Moss’s neck with the forty-five. “Drop the gun.”
Moss’s head jerked around, then held steady. “Is that you, Shayne? Where the hell did you fall from, you son of a bitch?”
Shayne said patiently. “Open your hand and let it go.”
Moss shook his head. “Too many charges against me. Don’t be in such a hurry!” he said sharply as Shayne’s hand came up to take the gun. “I’ve got a bad rap waiting in the Congo, and I’ll be damned if I go back there quietly. You’ll do me a favor by shooting me. I’ll kill Joe to make you shoot. Shoot first if you want to, I’ll get him with the twitch.”
“We’ve got a co-pilot,” Shayne said. “He can take the plane down.”
“Mike!” Lassiter protested, his hands frozen on the controls. “Listen to what you’re saying, for God’s sake.”
Moss said hurriedly, “Make a deal, Shayne. No tricks. You’ve got your airplane back. Let me parachute over the oilfields. It’s only a fifty-fifty chance, but I generally do OK at even money-Stay where you are!” he told the copilot, who had slipped out of his seat. “Whatever you do, don’t slug me. That’s a sure bullet in Joe’s head.”
“Clancy,” Lassiter said pleadingly. “We don’t want to be vindictive with this guy. Hell, it’s politics, and who cares?”
“You don’t believe that,” Moss said with a white, crooked grin. “I never heard of the National Liberation Front before yesterday.”
“Did you take that gold at LaGuardia, Moss?” Shayne said.
“Don’t talk about gold. We’re talking about life and death.”
Clancy, the co-pilot reached around Shayne and touched Moss lightly on the neck. Moss jerked away.
“What was that?” he said sharply. “What are you trying to pull? Clancy, break out a chute. Fair’s fair. Nobody lost anything. They’ll all have a good story to tell when they get back home.”
Clancy said, “I think he’s got us by the short hairs, Joe. Why don’t we let him jump? The chances are they’ll pick him up before he can get out of the country. And the big thing is, you’ll be alive.”
“Something in that,” Lassiter agreed.
All at once, Moss’s shoulders lost their tension. He lowered the gun, turned around and smiled at Shayne.
“Mike Shayne. You look great in that mask, baby. It does something for you.”
Shayne picked the gun out of his fingers. Lassiter breathed out in relief.
“You won’t give us any more trouble now, will you, Jimmy? You’re going to put your hands out for the handcuffs.”
“Absolutely,” Moss agreed. “But it was a good try. We lost a man last night, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t think we could make it with just the two.” He leaned back against the wall. “Somebody say something about a drink?”
Shayne sent the co-pilot a questioning glance.
“A tranquilizer,” Clancy explained. He showed Shayne a small disposable syringe. “When somebody went out of his head in the old days, he could break up the plane. Now you hit him with a needle and he starts agreeing with you.”
“You’re so right,” Moss said pleasantly. “Why shorten your life by fighting and hustling? Look at that.”
He waved out the window. They were flying above the cloud deck, and the fleecy cumulus beneath them was piled up in fantastic storybook formations. They passed a break in the clouds and saw the sea far below.
“Lovely,” Moss said. “But after the first couple of years in the business, we never look at it, do we, Joe?”
CHAPTER 16
Shayne tried questioning Moss about who had organized the hijacking, but Moss turned the questions with a vague smile.
“It’s not like a truth drug,” the co-pilot explained. “It just takes off their edge.”
“Sit down, Moss,” Shayne said.
Smiling engagingly, Moss slipped down the wall to a sitting position on the floor.
“It seems to work,” Shayne said dubiously. “How long until it wears off?”
Clancy shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. I only had to use it once, and the guy was still behaving himself an hour later. We hit Maiquetia in fifteen minutes, which gives us plenty of leeway.”
“Get me a couple more of those syringes. I’ve got another problem out in the cabin.”
Clancy stepped into the crew compartment. Shayne turned back to Lassiter.
“Joe, remember the girl you had drinks with last night?”
“Vaguely. Why?”
“Who made the first move? Her roommate had visitors later. They knew they’d find her alone.”
Lassiter’s shoulders lifted. “I believe in mixing with the passengers. It’s not part of the charter, but I do what I can to make the trip memorable. I’m a slob that way-after a given amount of Scotch, they all look like Elizabeth Taylor. Last night there was quite a bit of coming and going.” Sue Cornelius, the stewardess, entered nervously with a silver tray. She shied back from Shayne in his grotesque mask and looked in surprise at Jimmy Moss relaxing on the floor.
Moss grinned up at her. “Honey, from this angle you’ve got the nicest pair of stilts on this airline. Is one of those drinks for me?”
“No,” Shayne said.
He emptied the two bottles over the ice and handed a glass to Lassiter.
“Captain, are you sure you ought to-” the stewardess began.
“I’ve had a lunatic holding a gun to the back of my neck for the last ten minutes,” Lassiter said, “and I’m vibrating more than the Goddamned airplane.” He drained the glass in one long swallow. “Which is vibrating more than usual, it seems to me. What’s it like in the galley? Are you feeling a kind of drag?”
“I didn’t notice anything.”
“A sort of downward yank to the left.” He took a quarter turn on the stabilizer. “There it is again.”
Clancy, returning to the cockpit, handed Shayne two syringes. “Captain, shouldn’t we take another look through the drift meter? If one of those baggage hatches has sprung open-”
Lassiter set the autopilot button. The drift meter was a periscope-like device which snapped into position between the seats when a catch was released. Lassiter brought the eyepiece up into position and squinted into it. He grunted.