Page 4 of Final Approach
She took another step toward the attacker, who swung the weapon out toward her. “Stop moving! I’m not playing with you!”
Before he could pull the knife back toward his hostage, Andrew moved fast, coming up from behind. He jammed his left arm over the attacker’s right forearm, shoved the woman away, then grabbed the guy’s wrist with his free hand. He twisted the captured arm down and back. The man screamed and struggled, but his one-armed fight was no match for Andrew’s vise-like grip.
Kristine lunged in and snapped a cuff around the extended wrist while Andrew finally put enough pressure on the hijacker’s other wrist that he released the weapon. It clunked to the floor. Nathanswooped in to snag it with a gloved hand, Andrew cuffed the defeated man’s other wrist, and then it was over.
Then the clapping started. Passenger by passenger until the plane was filled with thunderous applause by those who weren’t capturing the moment on their phones.
Ugh.
“I’ll stay with him,” Kristine said. “You call it in.”
He nodded and got on his phone.
Lainie had the plane’s first aid kit and had put it to good use to help the woman who’d been stabbed.
“How is she?” Kristine asked.
“Fortunate. Her name is Bri. I’ve cleaned and bandaged it as best I could, but she needs stitches and pain meds. Thankfully, the blade went in just above her collarbone, and while painful, I don’t think it went deep enough to cut anything major. Jugular is intact and she’s breathing great.” Lainie smiled at the woman, who blinked up at them from her position on the floor. She patted the woman’s non-wounded shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, Bri.”
“Thank you,” Bri whispered, then closed her eyes.
“I was going to take a look at the other woman, but when I started to go to her, she waved me off.”
Kristine patted her friend’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
Thirty minutes later, they touched back down on the Lake City tarmac and rolled to a stop at the gate. The prisoner sat still and silent, chin touching his chest, refusing to talk or look at anyone.
As soon as the door was opened, Andrew hauled the sullen man to his feet, and he and the others escorted him into the hands of waiting FBI agents. He’d be taken to the Lake City County Detention Center where Andrew and Nathan would head to question him. He could only hope the guy was in a more talkative mood than he’d been once detained.
Andrew stood on the tarmac and gripped the bag holding the weapon. He marveled at the creative piece of “art.” Sturdy wire cut into pieces fashioned into a blade and held together with superglue.Then superglued to the end of a toothbrush. Everything that fashioned the “knife” was allowed in a carry-on or could be purchased in the airport after going through security. Except for the wire and the superglue. So how had those two items made it through security?
“Unbelievable,” he muttered. He couldn’t wait to search the guy’s bag.
“That’s the weapon?” Kristine asked.
He turned. As always, her beauty threatened to unnerve him. He cleared his throat and ordered himself to focus. “Yes. It’s clever, I’ll give him that.” Nathan and the others joined them.
“Who is he?” Nathan asked.
Andrew held up a black leather wallet. “ID says Marcus Brown. Forty-seven years old. Lives in Lake City.” They walked into the terminal. “You ready to go talk to him? I had a friend drop off a car for me.”
“Great minds think alike,” Nathan said. “I’ll see you there.”
Lainie oversaw the transport of her patient and the other two wounded passengers to the waiting ambulances and said goodbye to the others.
Andrew glanced at his phone. His mother had texted him.
I saw the news. Are you all right?
He tapped,
I’m fine, Mom. Back in Lake City, but fine. I’ll fill you in soon. Let Felix and Carson know pls.
She sent him a thumbs-up and a heart, and he tucked his phone back into his pocket. His brothers would be messaging any moment now. Instead of waiting for them to do so, he sent them a text on the family loop.
I’m fine. Busy wrapping things up. Will text or call later. Love you all.
His brother Carson was thirty-three years old and an architect in Atlanta, Georgia. He was older than Andrew by twenty-three months. Felix, their younger brother at twenty-nine years old, was a professional photographer, high in demand in the wedding and family portrait industry. He worked out of Greenville, South Carolina, and was married, with two girls. Andrew found it rather odd his parents tended to land where he was and not with their grandchildren, but he was glad whatever their reasons were. He climbed into the Bucar and headed for the detention center.
