Chapter 2
As the jet climbed steeply to cruising altitude, the Cleveland lakeshore landscape slipped rapidly behind. Within a few minutes they could look out and see that the snow on the ground below was beginning to show only in patches. Soon they would be landing in the hot sun of Miami.
Liz leaned forward to the seat ahead and asked Bill, "Is Ft. Lauderdale really as nice as all my friends at school say it is?"
Bill answered, "It's been years since I was there. Not since I used to go down when I was in college myself. But I hear it's grown considerably. Bustling place, that whole part of Florida."
"And quite exclusive," chimed in Fran. "From what I've been reading about it in the travel folders, it seems that everybody who lives there has a yacht tied up in front of the house."
"Oh good," said Liz from behind, "I'm going to enjoy a little tropical luxury. But do you think Al will still love me with all those gorgeous Miami co-eds around?"
"He'd be a damn fool not to," said Bill grinning.
"Here comes the drink wagon," interrupted Fran.
"Fine. What'll it be for everybody?" asked Bill. "Why not all have rum and coke. To get in the mood. When you're in Florida you have to drink rum," he added.
Both sisters agreed.
"Three rum and cokes," said Bill to the tall attractive stewardess.
Bill felt good sitting there with two such incredibly attractive looking women in front of the stewardess who was rapidly pouring out their drinks.
"Here you are, Sir," she said. "This used to be just a breakfast flight but then we found that most of our passengers seem to be heading for vacations in the sun, so not long ago, our line began offering drinks. We'll be serving you a snack a bit later."
"Don't usually start so early in the day myself of course," Bill answered. "But then it isn't every day that a man can take off for Florida with two gorgeous girls like this, is it?"
"No it isn't, Sir," answered the stewardess, smiling knowingly as she moved down the aisle.
AU three of them were eager to throw themselves into the mood of their holiday and so their drinks were finished by the time another stewardess passed and gave them each napkins and a small tray of canapes.
After finishing their snack and having a second drink apiece, like most of the other passengers, they each adjusted their seats to a reclining position to take a nap.
Fran remained awake for awhile, musing out the window at the still winter landscape far below and enjoying the appearing man in a pin-striped suit who looked like some sort of diplomat, almost hesitated, so hard did he stare at her, as he walked by.
A slight smile crossed his handsome face as she recrossed her legs under his gaze. Feeling a bit dizzy from her two drinks, Fran found herself smiling back at him over her husband's sleeping form. Afterwards she allowed herself the pleasure of feeling guilty about her slight eye flirtation with a strange man.
Soon she tired of looking out the window. Now she could see nothing but clouds below, and so she closed her eyes and, before she knew it, was asleep to the floating image of the man who had smiled so knowingly at her. Just before she dropped off, she thought how good it was of her husband to have booked first class, on the flight because first class, she imagined, was the place where it was possible to encounter interesting people like the man whose confident smile she could not erase from her mind. He just had to be a diplomat, or someone very important.
Much later, Fran woke restlessly. Bill still slept. She could see that Liz apparently dead tired from the excitement of her first flight, was also asleep, as indeed seemed to be most of the other passengers. Fran glanced out her window and was surprised to see that now they were flying over water. It looked blue and distant and she wondered why there was not even the Florida coastline below them. Perplexed, she woke Bill by jerking lightly at his sleeve.
He came awake groggily, with visions of what Fran's sister, Liz, was going to look like in a bikini on the beach at Lauderdale fading in the face of his wife's concern.
"Bill, where do you think we are? We seem to be flying over water," she said.
"What? What time is it? Let's see," Bill answered confused, glancing at his watch. "Hey, we were supposed to have landed in Miami half an hour ago."
"Are you sure dear?" Fran asked quietly, feeling the first tingling of apprehension.
"Yes, dammit. I checked the schedule again just before we boarded," Bill replied. "I think I'm going to go and find out what's happening. Be right back, honey."
Bill rose from his seat and started up the aisle to the service compartment just before the door to the cockpit Fran looked back out the window and still could see nothing but blue ocean beneath. She thought she could make out some sort of small boat down there off in the haze but wasn't sure. She glanced behind her and saw that her sister was still sleeping as peacefully as a child. And she is just a child, thought Fran. A strand of Liz's silky blonde hair had been drawn to her sleeping mouth and her eye makeup was smudged. Fran wondered what sort of relationship her little sister had with her boyfriend who they would soon be seeing standing at the gate waving to them on arrival.
She turned back to face the front and saw her husband coming back toward their seat. Another man, who looked Latin, was following close behind him, and Bill looked frightened. The other man, swarthy, tall and handsome, with dark hair and eyes, seemed to have his hand around something in the sidepocket of his sports jacket. Now they were in the aisle directly beside her.
"Sit down and please don't move around any more. I mean exactly what I say," said the strange man authoritatively.
Fran bursting with curiosity to ask Bill who in the world this person was and why he was ordering him around. After all, they had paid for first class tickets, yet here was this stranger?not even a crew member?ordering Bill around as though he were the pilot or something.
"OK. Ok. I won't get up," Bill said hurriedly to the man above him.
"What's happening?" Fran asked.
The darkly handsome man still standing beside them glanced down at her and his eyes riveted on her face. The intensity of his look almost threw her back deep against the seat. She had rarely felt such a power in anyone's gaze and this man was staring directly at her. What was happening to her? She felt a sense of confusion welling over her previous feeling of well being. Just moments before she had returned the frankly speculative smile of the distinguished looking gentleman who had hesitated in the aisle beside her while Bill was still asleep, and now this violent?almost sexual?reaction to this man standing over them now.
Bill sat rigidly in his seat as the stranger started to move away, his hand still bulging in his jacket pocket.
"What's happening?" Fran implored once more.
The swarthy-complexioned man turned and said, "This plane is being flown to another destination. You will not be arriving in Miami quite as soon as you planned. We hope the change in flight plans will cause you no great inconvenience. Please, just keep quiet and cooperate with us, and you have nothing to fear. You are in good hands."
The man's eyes burned into hers once more as he glanced quickly down the length of her body, pressed, frightened down in her seat. Then he turned again and walked back toward the front of the plane.
"That's a pistol that guy has in his pocket," whispered Bill, his voice nervous. "We've been hijacked!"
Fran sat back nervously. She was frightened, but a part of her secretly thrilled at the prospect of being flown to an unknown destination. Just hours ago she had been preparing early morning coffee in the familiar kitchen of their suburban home back in Ohio, and now this was happening to her. She shuddered at the thought of what else the man with the piercing eyes might have in store for them, realizing that things were beginning to happen to her that she had never before imagined possible. And most confusing to her was that she was feeling things when these men had stared at her that she knew she should not allow herself, a happily married woman, to feel.