"Did you hear that?" A guard called out. "There is someone knocking on the door. He is yelling something about a dog…"
"Let him in and be quick about it, "Greta called from the pilot's cabin where she and Otto were busy studying the control panels.
Rolf, and the remaining hijacker were in the rear of the plane, having one of the stewardesses make coffee for them while they scrounged for food.
"You know the passengers are most likely thirsty, might I take the beverage cart up the aisle and give them something to drink?" Elsie, the head stewardess boldly told them. She took a few sandwiches from the refrigeration compartment, giving them to Rolf and Siggy.
"Ja, that is fine,"Rolf said,"Just no funny business." He pointed his Luger at her as a reminder.
Elsie unlatched the trolley, opened the doors to show the hijackers there was nothing troublesome inside it, and after receiving a nod of approval, she rolled it out in front of her.
She stopped at the rear seats, calling out. "I have been granted permission...would you like water or soda?" The woman quickly handed out the beverages, getting questions whispered to her as she did so.
"What's happening Fräulein? Are they going to take us somewhere else?"
"I do not know, now please be quiet; we don't want to upset them in any way."
Everyone knew the deadline was looming upon them, and the passengers for the most part were frightened into silence, wondering who would be chosen to die if the German government did not cooperate.
.
The guard in the front of the plane struggled with the door, trying to unlatch it, and after several attempts it opened and he held it in place against the wind.
Hans bounded inside and while the man was looking down at the dog, and in one swift motion, Illya smashed the butt of his rifle into the guards head, rendering him unconscious.
Napoleon was there in a flash, inspite of his pain and grabbed him before he hit the floor, taking hold of the sidearm and, in the blink of an eye, Illya tossed the man out the door, closing and locking it.
"Good to see you tovarish," Napoleon spoke softly.
"Better to see you my friend," the Russian half-smiled, handing his parter the handgun.
The passengers sitting nearby were overjoyed, but were silenced as Illya held his finger to his lips, shushing them.
"Otto and Greta are in the cockpit," Napoleon whispered."Rolf and the other one are in the rear somewhere."
Illya nodded, immediately calling out in German," Otto, komm her und hilf mir bitte mit dem Hund_Otto, come here please and help me with the dog?"
As soon as the man appeared the Russian pistol-whipped him into silence, caught him in mid-fall and lowered him into one of the empty seats. They gathered belts, neck ties and handkerchiefs, quickly gagging and binding the unconscious man, pulling against the bulkhead with the assistance of a passenger.
Napoleon nodded, as now it was his turn. He called out to the cabin.
"Greta, can you help me please, my wound is starting to bleed badly. I think I need a new dressing for it."
The blonde woman, still dressed in her powder blue stewardess uniform stepped out with the first aide kit in her hand, only to be grabbed by Solo, and with his free hand, covered her mouth.
She too was gagged and bound and quietly dragged into the cockpit. Kuryakin took her sidearm tucked into the waistband of her skirt...it was Napoleon's Special, and he brandished Otto's pistol to the passenger who'd helped them.
"Do you know how to use a gun?"
"Yes sir, I was in the military and once a Marine always a Marine, "the fellow, obviously an American, smiled.
"Good, but I do not need you to be 'gung ho'...do not use it unless it is absolutely necessary," Illya quietly hissed. He spotted Elsie coming forward with the beverage trolley, and as soon as she recognized him, her eyes filled with hope.
"Do you know where Baader and Siggy are located?" He ducked down, whispering to her.
"In the galley with the other stewardess."
"Bring the cart forward and clear the aisle."
As soon as the path was unobstructed Illya looked to the dog who had simply been sitting, waiting for his next command.
"Hans, come...walk in front of me," he again spoke in German, and for a second, Illya was again amazed at the animal's comprehension.
He followed the dog down the aisle, with Otto's black beret on his head, he kept it lowered to hide his face. Napoleon, unable to walk steadily remained in the front of the plane, though he was now armed and could shoot if necessary. The American was there with him as backup, if it came to it.
"Good luck chum," were Solo's last words to his partner.
Rolf spotted the dog walking towards him, not paying attention to the uniformed man walking behind it.
"Gut, gut! Sie haben den Hund gefangen. Ich denke, er wird uns von Nutzen sein_good, good! You have caught the dog. I think he will be of use to us."
Siggy looked directly at Illya and shouted out, warning Baader.
"It's the Russian!"
Illya was too fast for them as he raised the Special, getting off two quick shots, hitting both men with sleep darts, and watched as they collapsed on the floor of the galley.
The stewardess grabbed several electrical cords from the coffee percolators, and helped Illya tie up Rolf and Siggy after he relieved them of their guns
Cheers went up inside the cabin.. Illya turned, blushing with embarrassment as the passengers applauded his efforts; he waved them off as he returned to the front of the plane, greeting his partner.
"It is done Napoleon," he let go a great sigh.
"Nice job buddy if I do say so myself. So I see you're not afraid of dogs anymore," he grinned a the Russian.
"I would not make quite such a blanket statement. Hans is an exceptionally well trained animal, and that worked to my advantage. It, however, does not make me want to go out and get a dog."
Napoleon shook his head as he laughed at that response. Still it was a start for his partner getting over is phobia.
"Your leg, how is it?" Illya spotted the blood on Solo's pant leg.
"I've had worse. Luckily there was a doctor on board who removed the bullet and stitched me up. Hurts like hell though," Napoleon changed the subject." So how did you get the uniform and weapon?"
He recounted his little strategy, and reminded Napoleon the remainder of Baaders men were trapped in a storeroom inside the terminal.
"Well I guess it's time to call home...you have your communicator? Mine's gone," Napoleon said.
"Greta took it when I was frisked before leaving the plane." Illya snapped his finger, remembering she'd tossed it to the floor, and it had rolled to the side. After giving a quick look, he found it against the bulkhead beneath the still body of Otto.
"Voila!" Illya smiled, setting up the communicator in an instant. "Open Channel D-overseas relay. Kuryakin to Mr. Waverly please."
The signal was riddled with static, most likely the sandstorm was affecting the signal.
"Mr. Kuryakin, good to hear your voice," Waverly answered. "What is your status?" (Crackling)
"The hijackers have been secured, (crackling) and the passengers are safe, including the dog, sir...though Mr. Solo has been wounded, not seriously, I am happy to report." (buzzzz)
"Excellent, excellent news all around. There is a team in( buzzzz) ... to assist you but are waiting out the storm. I'll have (buzzzz) patched through to them. I will contact the German Chancellor with the good news."
"Say again sir, you are breaking up. Where is the team?"
"Tunis. We're patching (buzzzz) though now."
A few seconds later the voice of April Dancer came over the communicator."
"Illya? Are you and Napoleon all right?"
"Nothing that a little tender loving care wouldn't hurt," Napoleon called out to her.
"Oh, goose, (crackling) good to hear your voice...and I'll make sure you get that TLC and something more (buzzz)…"
"Enough you two," Mark interrupted. "I should have known you lads would have gotten yourselves out of this mess. Do you still need us?"
(Buzzzz) "Yes, there is a dozen or so Faction members locked up in an old air terminal here, and we have five incapacitated hijackers on board the plane who need tending to," Illya answered.
(Crackling) "Right mate, we'll be there in two shakes of a lambs tail as soon a this bloody storm blows over. So see you then guv, Slate out."
An hour later the Chichili subsided, revealing a clear blue and cloudless sky. The door to the jetliner was slowly opened, showing the tower and terminal had drifts of sand piled around the foundations, but the airstrip was seemingly clear. The plane apparently sat an angle facing the jet engines sideways to the direction in which the storm had blown, and there seemed to be little build up of sand in the engines. Still they would have to be inspected and tested.
Forty-five minutes later, the backup team headed by Slate and Dancer arrived. The reunion between April and Napoleon was dramatic, with hugs and kisses for everyone to see, they apparently didn't care.
The Russian greeted Slate with a handshake, all the while eyeing Agent Mc Gowan. He winked at her and smiled as they'd become quite close since her reassignment to the New York office.
"Glad to see ye are all right Illya," she spoke to him with a heavy Irish accent.
"Glad to be seen, Anya, " he smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye, whispering his pet name for her.
Illya showed Mark where the other Red Army Faction members were being detained in the terminal. They were gathered, along with the now conscious Baader, and the others. A helicopter transport was ordered and would be about an hour before it arrived.
The jetliner was inspected, engines started and was deemed ready to resume its flight to New York, with a stop over at the NATO airbase in Marseille for a refuel and replacement of supplies along with a reinspection.
The hijacking had been kept under wraps and the general public not made aware of it. Families of the passengers were sequestered at Kennedy airport, and as soon as the plane arrived everyone would be debriefed, and for security purposes would have to sign off, agreeing to remain silent about the whole incident.
Napoleon remained behind in Tunisia and was taken to a hospital in Tunis for further examination and treatment. He wasn't happy about leaving Illya to finish the assignment alone, though the fact that April was there to keep the American company seemed to placate him.
Kuryakin, not happy himself, continued on with the plane to make the delivery of Hans to his handler at Madison Square Garden.
At the moment the dog was sitting in Napoleon's seat right next to the Russian. The passengers wanted the dog let free of his cage as a reward for his help in freeing them.
Illya, not completely comfortable with the Hans, held a magazine in his hands, still wearing the uniform of the Red Army guard he'd taken it from.
Every once in a while, he'd glance out of the corner of his eye at Hans as the dog sat panting next to him. Finally Illya tentatively reached over and patted the animal on the side as he'd seen Meili do back at the chalet at the start of their journey in Switzerland.
"Gute Arbeit, Hans. Hinlegen und ausruhen. Sie haben eine Hundeausstellung zu gewinnen, enh_good job, Hans. Lie down and get some rest. You have a dog show to win, enh?"
Illya grimaced as the dog, without warning, licked his hand, though obeying his command, and laying down with his head on the armrest, not taking his eyes off the Russian.