Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
A deserted parking lot in L.A.
Donald Abernathy, proud member of the Marshall Pucci Foundation board of directors, reluctantly got out of his car. He had the intense feeling of making a big mistake, but honestly, what else should he do?
Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny voice piped up: "You realize that's exactly the kind of thing Ilsa's precious pet project specializes in?"
Donald snorted. Sure. He'd run to Ilsa for help. After all she'd done to him.
Another car pulled up in the parking lot.
… … …
San Francisco International Airport.
"He's with me!", Emma told the agent that stepped into Chance's way. She led him directly up into the tower where they had the best view of the hijacked airplane. "I assume the others are listening in?", she muttered under her breath.
Chance nodded.
"It's a hostage situation – 94 passengers, six crew members. A single hijacker", she continued, louder.
"Pulling that kind of thing off at an US-American airport? Baptiste must have a damn good reason to take that kind of a risk." Chance studied the airplane parked on the runway. It was an older model from one of the smaller airlines.
"He's not the hijacker, he's one of the passengers." Emma showed Chance a layout of the airplane and pointed at Baptiste's seat.
"A single hijacker and he hasn't taken him out yet? What is he waiting for?"
"He's probably held back by the same problem our SWAT team faces – the hijacker is wearing a suicide vest. We can't risk it going off on board…" She showed Chance a picture the hijacker had posted of himself on facebook.
He was covered in packages of explosives.
… … …
The parking lot.
The man got out of the car and started walking towards Donald. He had never seen him before.
Hang on a second…
Donald vaguely remembered something Ilsa had told him, not too long ago… she had commented on a scene on TV they had caught a glimpse of during some trip for the Foundation.
"Totally unrealistic", she had said. "If he lets him see his face, there's no way he'll let him live."
Back then the comment had sent a shiver down Donald's spine because it had confirmed the rumors that she was maintaining bad company lately.
Today the comment sent a shiver down his spine because he suddenly realized she was right.
If the man let him see his face…
Oh God…
… … …
San Francisco International Airport.
"How in the world did he get in there with that stuff?", Winston asked via earpiece.
"According to the airline's website, that's "very complicated to explain". Guerrero's voice.
"We need to get the hijacker off the plane…", Chance mused.
"That's exactly what the SWAT team says", Emma nodded, then paused for a moment. "I told them I've got an inside man aboard who could provide a solution for that problem…"
"You did what?"
"I figured it's in Baptiste's own interest to work with us…he could get the hijacker off the plane and SWAT takes care of the rest." Emma smiled. "They're already setting up an electromagnetic field to jam the signal that would set off the explosion."
Chance couldn't believe it.
Neither could the others.
"Did she just admit planning to use Baptiste as a career boost by pretending he's working for her?" Winston's voice again.
"Where's the difference to last time?" Emma really didn't see where the problem was. "Case of a lifetime, remember? I used him back then, too. You handed him to me."
"The difference is that this time you're depending on his cooperation!" Chance still couldn't believe it. "How are you planning to sell that to him?"
A snort via earpiece. "Why do you think she called you in, dude?"
… … …
The parking lot.
"I've done everything you told me", Donald told the approaching man.
"And you've done very well." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Donald held his breath.
The man produced a small bundle.
Money.
Oh, thank God, it was just money.
And quite a lot of it.
"For your efforts."
Greatly relieved, Donald took it, not realizing that generosity in connection with members of the underworld is a cause for concern, not relief.
He also didn't realize that, considering the day's high temperatures, someone wearing thick leather gloves was highly conspicuous.
… … …
Inside the airplane.
The flight attendant slowly approached the hijacker. "Passenger 37 desperately needs his medicine. He can't take it without water."
The hijacker looked at Baptiste, tried to weigh whether this was some kind of set up or not and decided that nobody would risk his bombs going off on board. He was wearing enough C4 to reduce the plane to shreds.
As you already know, he was right about that.
They absolutely wouldn't risk an explosion.
Not on board.
The flight attendant brought Baptiste the glass of water he hadn't asked for and bent over to help him adjust his seat, letting a mobile phone with an unread text message slip into his lap while doing that.
Ten minutes later Baptiste started choking.
"Hey man, I thought you'd taken your medicine!" The hijacker approached him.
… … …
The parking lot.
Donald felt it even before he got back into his car.
First the palms of his hands started to tingle. Then it felt like flames shooting up his arms.
His heart exploded.
The man started collecting the dollar bills from the ground while Donald was still in his death throes.
… … …
The airplane.
It was all a question of timing.
Wasn't it always?
The right timing to detonate the bomb underneath the ambassador's car.
The right timing to pull the trigger to shoot the target and not the little girl that was planting a kiss on his cheek.
And now the right timing to get the hijacker through the airplane's door.
Speed was the key. He needed to get him down the aisle to the door before he realized what was happening and had a chance to set the bomb off.
Just like Chance was good at throwing up on cue, Baptiste could do a very believable "I'm suffocating" performance. He wheezed, choked, coughed, got up, stumbled … yes, the hijacker was taking the bait.
"Sit down again", he yelled. "Sit down or I'll blow the whole damn thing…"
Note to future airplane hijackers: Always, even if you're wearing a vest packed with highly explosive C4, keep a certain distance to your hostages. You never know if one of them isn't a highly trained assassin.
A highly trained pissed-off-that-you-got-in-his-way assassin.
Baptiste grabbed him by the throat, taking advantage of an instinct that's as old as human kind: Something threatens to block your airways, you freeze, at least for a couple of seconds.
And a couple of seconds was all Baptiste needed to get the hijacker to the door.
The pilot unlocked it.
Baptiste gave the hijacker a shove and he fell out of the airplane, directly into a steel container the SWAT team had discreetly set up underneath the door. It was right in the center of a strong electromagnetic field that was supposed to stop the C4 from exploding.
Explosions go off when electric circuits close. Electromagnetic fields prevent that from happening.
They were not taking any chances, however.
The hijacker landed with a thump on a padding in the container. The SWAT team closed the container's lid.
Then they waited.
Should the electromagnetic field not work, the container would repress the explosion and the plane would remain intact.
In contrast to the hijacker.
Should the electromagnetic field work he'd face a trial and eventually capital punishment.
Judge for yourself what you'd wish on him.
The electromagnetic field, however, worked.
A/N: A big thank you to niagaraweasel who helped plotting this!