Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

The car crossed the rail bridge onto Merry Street. David knew where he was.

“Yes a wife, pregnant, and a son.”

“So you see your dad, I drive you to the plane and you go home to Dover, hug your wife play with your son and sit the rest of this one out. We work as a team. You’ve done a tough bit of this job for us and it’s time to be substituted.”

“You’re right. Thanks Monty.”

Finally on Parneuk Street Monty turned into Sunflower gardens. He pulled up, but didn’t turn the engine off.

“I’m up the road from here, round the corner past Thyme Square. Walk round in about twenty minutes and I’ll take you to the airport.”

David got out and knocked on the door. His father opened it, leaning on his stick, his tall figure mildly stooped by the limp.

“Hello son. You’d better come in.”

The door closed behind David and Monty pulled up at his house around the corner completely unaware that Trevor Stanton, the man that he and the whole DIC organisation were searching for, was asleep in the house opposite him.

Manchester to London Gatwick Flight Approaching London

11-30 a.m.

April 18th

Cobb wasn’t aware that the plane’s pilot had been informed of the presence of an armed criminal on the plane, but he guessed that as much would be said and that the cabin crew would also be informed and be told to act naturally.

Down at Gatwick armed police were gathering and a plan to evacuate the plane quickly had been formed.

Cobb sat on the plane for a full ten minutes contemplating the ticking clock and what he knew would be an armed reception at Gatwick and for this reason it should have been a nerve racking flight, full of anticipation and fear, but the nature of his work had instilled in him the ability to make the most of quiet moments; he could switch off from the surrounding or impending dangers, just as he could skirt around the moral issues of the deaths incurred or occurring as a result of his work. He dealt with dangers and fears when the moment came and not before.

It was twenty minutes into the flight that he had a plan. It was simple enough. He would wait until the plane had landed and go to the back emergency exit of the plane and whilst it was taxiing drop the emergency ‘slide’.

The Airbus A320 had the emergency exit at the back and he hadn’t too far to go to get to it. He made a short reconnaissance trip and looked over the door, after making sure that the cabin crew were busy elsewhere, and felt sure of his being able to do it. He thought carefully about his quite literally hitting the ground whilst the plane was still moving and he knew he must relax and parachute roll off the slide. He didn’t relish the thought, but escape across the airport, even in a state of high alert would be easier then than being trapped by entering the terminal.

Cobb settled down, ordered drinks from the well informed cabin crew, knowing that they would have been warned of his potential danger and he would be treated with kid gloves. The bourbon and ice in the plastic cup burned a warming passage through him and he felt anguished that he wouldn’t have the chance for a cigarette before the moment of potential danger came; the word terminal came to mind in both its meanings. He resolved to make sure that Gatwick wasn’t the termination of his journey in any respect. Paying was the way to get anything on the Easyjet flight and he handed over the exorbitant amount for yet another measure of Bourbon, purely medicinal purposes he felt; painkillers were going to be a must.

The plane began its descent into London Gatwick and Cobb readied himself for the fight of a lifetime. Aside from the fear of injury on his jump he knew that he would be up against a fair number of armed men. He recalled nights in foreign countries; the knot in the stomach going in; the killing sometimes up close, knife or silenced machine pistol and sometimes from a distance watching the target drop through a night scope. He recalled the mission extraction, tense faces, sometimes barking dogs in the distance, every sound making fingers twitch near triggers and the hunted look in every team member’s eyes. As a Navy Seal he’d had respect and admiration, now killing for his own services he was a criminal and every government force was unfriendly.

The Airbus ‘plumped’ onto the runway and began decelerating rapidly. Cobb swirled his head from left to right window across the plane orientating as fast as he could. He noted the control tower as he had passed and picked it as a good spot to head for.

As the plane began its taxiing the passengers, in spite of instructions, began getting out of seats to ready themselves to deplane. Cobb rose from his seat and made his way to the back of the plane. He knew there would be mild depressurisation on opening the door, but not as extreme as if he had done it in the air. There were enough people in the gangways to cover his movements and once at the door he straight away pulled the emergency handles and opened it.

The air blast sucked people in the gangways over and Cobb held onto a nearby grip waiting for the slide to deploy which it did. The engine sounds forced their way through the cabin.

In the cockpit the pilot noted the open door alarm and radioed the terminal. It was with a great relief, after a flight locked in his cabin, fearing hijack and knowing that the end of the journey might see a hostage situation, with the added thought that Cobb might break his own neck jumping out, that the pilot settled back to taxi into Gatwick. In the cabin behind him there was mild mayhem, oxygen masks had dropped and cabin crew went into emergency procedures, but also with a sense of relief that the killer and his gun were elsewhere.

It had been noted that using the emergency exit had been one of their possible scenarios for Cobb’s attempted escape and considered a likely action, but not as likely, to their orthodox thinking, as hostage taking. Cobb had dismissed such an idea as likely to lead to entrapment and death.

In the arrivals, which had been cleared, the chief inspector radioed his colleagues below the arrival gate on the plane parking concourse. Three deployed cars were quickly despatched.

Cobb jumped onto the escape slide the moment it had opened and as he got to its centre the mild jet wash twisted it like washing on a line, folding him inside, then with a twist back it unfolded and he rolled heavily to the tarmac in a complete somersault and to his momentary amazement landed on his feet. It took less than half a second to spot the tower, two hundred metres back and he began running, holding the shoulder bag to his chest and reaching for the silenced pistol.

The passing of the plane making its way to the terminal halted the three cars with a breathtaking moment of fear for the pilot who saw them ahead of him, as he turned left, the heavy plane edging round, and the police in their cars too not having thought of the plane, but of the chase turned dramatically left and right from its path.

Cobb, in spite of the effects of cigarettes, arrived at the control tower twenty eight seconds after landing on the runway. He was sure he had seen cars there and that meant a speedier exit. At times during his sprint he had felt exposed and almost felt the sniper’s cross hairs on his head, but having reached the safety of the surrounding hedges and no shot hitting home he felt some relief.

Airport security was raised to top level terrorist alert and every gate entrance and exit was guarded by armed men and women.

Once on the runway the three cars drove to likely locations, but not to the control tower as there was a unit there already, which came as a shock to Cobb as he rounded the hedge to face two armed police with MP5 submachine guns, held at waist level, standing in front of a neon striped Land Rover.