"Joel Rosenberg - Last Jihad 03 - The Ezekiel Option" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenberg Joel C)

do it. He'd seen them come in and out, and the door had swung easily every time.
A quick glance to his right confirmed that no one was coming up the aisle. He
reached for his fountain pen and wrote quickly in German on the napkin beside him. His
aides knew German, but it was unlikely the terrorists did.
"We must storm the cabin, like the Americans did on 9/11," he wrote. "We have no
choice. We must retake the plane, or die. Cough if you're with me."
He set down the pen, crumpled the napkin in his right hand, then slipped it back
between the seats, hoping one of them would see it and take it.
One did. The napkin slid from his fingers. He waited.
He could hear the muffled cries of children behind him, but mostly there was an eerie
quiet, save for the roar of the jet engines. The acridstench of gunpowder still hung in the
air. For the life of him he couldn't imagine how they'd gotten weapons on board. But he
could see the results. On the floor ahead of him lay his personal bodyguard, a pool of
crimson growing around his head.




The young air-traffic controller tried to stay calm.
"Aeroflot six-six-one-seven heavy, once again, this is New York Center;
acknowledge."
Still no response.
"Aeroflot six-six-one-seven, this is New York Center. Execute immediate course
change to three-four-fiveтАФrepeat, three-four-fiveтАФand acknowledge, over."
Again, no response.
The controller took a deep breath and scanned his instruments again. He'd only been
on the job for a year, but he'd been well trained. The jumbo jet was inbound from
Moscow and scheduled to land at JFK within the half hour. But instead of heading into a
landing pattern, the plane had banked sharply to the southwest, bypassed New York
City, and refused to acknowledge his radio instructions.
He picked up the phone and dialed his supervisor.
Seconds later, his call was relayed to the FAA's operations center in Virginia.
No, the transponder was still on, he told the watch officer. Yes, it appeared to be
transmitting properly.
No, the jet had not squawked 7500, the international hijacking code. Or 7600, for
radio malfunction. Or 7700, for a general emergency.
No, the pilots had not flashed an HJK text message for a hijacking in progress.
No, there was no evidence of depressurization.
Or reports of a fire or shots on board.
But something was seriously wrong.
The FAA watch officer now speed-dialed NORAD. He was patched through to the
North East Air Defense Sector at Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome, New York, and
explained the situation. The NEADS commander didn't hesitate. He scrambled fighter
jets out of the 119th Fighter Squadron in Atlantic City and the 121st out of Andrews Air


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Force Base in Mary-land, then called the National Military Command Center at the
Pentagon.
Moving at 550 miles an hourтАФwith clear skies, unlimited visibility, and no