Skyjack: The Hunt for D. B. Cooper by Geoffrey Gray Read Free Book Online Page A

pushes off the armrests and propels herself forward. In first class she passes Alice. The first-class stew can see the fear on Flo’s face. Alice looks back into the tourist cabin to see the hijacker. Tina, she can see, is sitting next to him. He is wearing sunglasses. Tina was right. This is no joke.
    As the oldest stew, Alice has to do something. She wants Tina away from this man. She walks to her.
    “Tina, can you help me find a deck of playing cards?”
    Tina is not listening. Alice walks away. Is Tina in shock?
    Inside the cockpit, the Northwest pilots hear the door open. Flo slips in. The envelope with the hijacker’s instructions is in her hand.
    “Did you get a good look at the bomb?”
    “What was in the briefcase?”
    “Red sticks,” she says.
    “Dynamite?”
    “They looked like dynamite.”
    “What else?”
    “Lots of wires, a battery.”
    Copilot Rataczak reads the hijacker’s note. He notices the fine lettering, the felt-tip pen. The hijacker could be a master criminal, he thinks. The pilots better play his game. No funny stuff.
    Scotty reaches for his radio. He calls Northwest Flight Operations back in Minnesota. His words are recorded via Teletype.
PASSENGER HAS ADVISED THIS IS A HIJACKING. EN ROUTE TO SEATTLE. THE STEW HAS BEEN HANDED A NOTE. HE REQUESTS $200,000 IN A KNAPSACK BY 5:00 PM. HE WANTS TWO BACK PARACHUTES, TWO FRONT PARACHUTES. HE WANTS THE MONEY IN NEGOTIABLE AMERICAN CURRENCY. DENOMINATION OF THE BILLS IS NOT IMPORTANT. HAS BOMB IN BRIEFCASE AND WILL USE IT IF ANYTHING IS DONE TO BLOCK HIS REQUEST .

    Dispatch is calling.
    “PD 32, PD 32.”
    PD 32 is the number of Special Agent Ralph Himmelsbach’s unmarked ’68 Plymouth. He’s driving back to the field office from Yaw’sTop Notch, a drive-in burger joint on the outskirts of Portland. He had a light lunch—grilled cheese, chased down with a glass of milk—because his wife is cooking a pre-Thanksgiving dinner and he needs to be home with a healthy appetite. There is tension in the marriage. Himmelsbach is never around, either working cases or flying his airplane. He suspects she is having an affair with her boss.
    “164 in progress, Portland International.”
    In the Bureau, each crime has a code number. 164 is an airplane hijacking. Is it real or a prank?
    “Verified,” the dispatcher says. “Report to Northwest Airlines Operations Office.”
    Himmelsbach reaches for the radio.
    “PD 32,” he says. “Ten four.”
    He slams the brakes, banks into a U-turn, cuts off traffic, and heads toward the Portland airport. He places the sirens on the car roof. He wants to drive faster. Can’t move. Traffic.
    “Damn, this is a long light,” he says.
    Himmelsbach hates what Portland has become. His city has been sacked! From the East, the liberals have come from New York and Boston, purchasing property and running for office. From the South, the hippies come from Northern California. He can see them in bus stations begging for money or rides. The spoiled kids don’t have the decency to cut their hair. The women don’t shave under their arms. They do drugs and sell drugs. They don’t believe in relationships. Only a short drive from Portland, a group of girls has built the first lesbian commune. The girls have rules. Monogamy is forbidden. Imagine that!
    Ralph Himmelsbach can’t. In the rearview mirror of his Bureau squad car, the agent’s reflection is all straight lines. His jawline is sharp and angular. His Wyatt Earp mustache is full and trimmed. His eyebrows are hawklike, fitting for the hunter he is.
    It is elk season and he could be hunting elk on a day like today. Elk can be invisible creatures. One of the best places to hunt them is in the eastern part of Washington, up in the Blue and Wallowa Mountains.Himmelsbach and his brother, a district attorney there, set up camp in waist-high snow, crouch near the trees, look for tracks, and wait. But in ten years hunting them, Himmelsbach has never taken an elk.
    “PD 32, PD