about being caught up in a revolution somewhere.”
His face hardened. He gave her a look that sent shivers through her.
“Dani, have you ever watched anyone die?” he asked bluntly.
She faltered, shocked by the icy challenge in his deep voice.
“No, of course not,” she said.
“Then don’t be too eager to stick your nose in some other country’s military coups. It isn’t pretty.” He touched his pocket, reaching for a cigarette, then glanced up and noticed that the no-smoking sign was still lit as the plane climbed to gain more altitude. Then he also remembered that he’d chosen a seat in the no-smoking section to be near Dani, who didn’t smoke. He said something rough under his breath.
“Have you?” she asked unexpectedly. “Stuck your nose in somebody’s military coups?” she added when he lifted an eyebrow.
“That would hardly concern you,” he said, softening the words with a smile.
He wasn’t exactly rude, but she turned quickly back to the window in silence. She felt uneasy, and tried to banish the feeling. He was her husband now. She’d have to learn not to ruffle him. She leaned back, closed her eyes and convinced herself that she was worrying needlessly. Surely there were no dark secrets in his past.
Someone in the seat ahead of them rang for the stewardess, and Dani closed her eyes, thinking what a long flight this was going to be. They’d planned to stop over in Greenville and then decide who would move and who wouldn’t. He wanted to see where she lived, he’d said, to meet her friend Harriett and see the little bookshop she owned. She’d been flattered by his interest.
She had just closed her eyes when she heard a loud gasp and then a cry from nearby. Her eyes opened to see the stewardess being held roughly by a man in brown slacks and an open-necked white shirt. He had a foreign look, and his eyes were glazed with violence. At the stewardess’s neck he was holding a hypodermic syringe. Another man who had been sitting with him got calmly to his feet, walked around the man with the syringe and went into the cockpit.
There was a loud yell and the copilot appeared, took one look at what was happening and seemed to go white.
“Yes, he’s telling the truth, as near as I can tell,” the copilot called into the cockpit.
There was a buzz of conversation that was unintelligible, then the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker and Dutch stiffened, his dark gaze going slowly over the man with the syringe.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Hall.” The deep voice was deceptively calm. “The plane is being diverted to Cuba. Please keep calm, remain in your seats and do exactly as you’re told. Thank you.”
The unarmed man came out of the cockpit, twitching his thick mustache, and fumbled around with the intercom until he figured it out.
“We wish no one to be harmed,” he said. “The syringe my friend is holding to the neck of this lovely young lady is filled with hydrochloric acid.” Shocked murmurs went through the crowd, especially when the shorter, bald man took the syringe to one side and deliberately let one drop fall on the fabric of the seat. It smoldered and gave a vivid impression of the impact it would have on the stewardess’s neck. “So for the young lady’s sake, please keep calm,” he continued. “We will harm you only if you make it necessary.”
He hung up the intercom and went back into the cockpit. The man with the syringe tugged the petite blond stewardess along with him, ignoring the passengers. Apparently, he thought the threat of the syringe was enough to prevent any interference.
And it seemed he was right. The other passengers murmured uneasily among themselves.
“Professionals,” Dutch said quietly. “They must want to get out of the country pretty badly.”
Dani eyed him uncomfortably. “Who are they, do you think?”
“No idea,” he said.
“They wouldn’t really use that acid on her?” she asked, her voice soft with astonishment.
He turned and looked down at her, into gray eyes more innocent than any he’d ever seen. He frowned. “My God, of course they’d use it!”
Her oval face paled. She looked past him to where one of the men was barely visible, his arm still around the stewardess.
“Can’t the captain do something?” she said then.
“Sure.” He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, clasping his lean, tough hands over his stomach. “He can do exactly what they tell him until they get off the plane. All they want is a free ride. Once they’ve had it, they’ll leave.”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “Aren’t you worried?” she asked.
“They aren’t holding the syringe to my neck.”
His indifference shocked her. She was terrified for the stewardess. Horrified, she forced her eyes back to her lap. For God’s sake, what kind of man had she married?
He closed his eyes again, ignoring her contemptuous stare. He regretted the need to shock her, but he needed time to think, and he couldn’t do it if she was talking. Now he had sufficient quiet to put together a plan. They wouldn’t hurt the girl if their demands were met. But glitches sometimes happened. In case one developed, he had to think of a way out. There were two men, but only one was armed. And obviously, they hadn’t been able to get anything metallic through the sensors. That was good. They might have a plastic knife or two between them, or a pocket knife like the one Dutch was carrying—a knife that had special uses. His was balanced and excellent for throwing. And he had few equals with a knife. He smiled.
Dani glanced at Dutch with mingled hurt and curiosity and rage. He was asleep, for heaven’s sake! In the middle of a hijacking, he was asleep! She sighed angrily. Well, what did she expect him to do? Leap up from the seat like one of the heroes in the books she read and deliver them all from the terrorists? Fat chance!
A hijacking. She sighed, nervously fingering her purse. She wondered how the poor stewardess felt. The woman was doing her best to stay calm, but it couldn’t have been easy. Knowing what was in that syringe, and how quickly it would work if she were injected with it…Dani shuddered at just the thought. In her innocence she’d never believed that there were such fiendish people sharing the world with her.
Dutch opened one eye and closed it again. Dani gave him an exasperated look and clasped her hands to still their trembling. The taller of the hijackers had something in his hand that looked suspiciously like a grenade, and as the plane grew closer to Cuba, he began to pace nervously.
The shorter hijacker, the bald one who was holding the stewardess prisoner, moved into view. He forced the stewardess into the front seat, which was just one ahead of Dutch and Dani, and sat beside her, with the syringe still at her throat.
He was tiring, Dutch mused. And the other one was getting a little panicky. His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’d bet his life that the grenade was plastic. How else could they have cleared airport security? One of the magazines on covert operations ran advertisements for the fakes—they were dirt cheap and, at a distance, realistic enough to fool a civilian. Which Dutch wasn’t.
He’d wait until
