Flight WAC 1403A

Stan moved forward slowly, inserting the hard tool into her hot slippery wetness.

"Oh darling, it feels sooo good," she moaned.

Stan started to thrust his lance back and forth with practiced regularity.

"Oh darling, oh darling," she moaned, humping from below.

He increased his speed and the intensity of his strokes. Her hips moved up and down in rhythm of his strokes. Her body arched.

"OH YES, OH YESSS. I'M NEARLY THERE. OH OHHH I AAMMMM CUMMMMINNNG," she shouted, and fell back panting on the bed. A few strokes later Stan, with a loud grunt, pushed deep inside her and spurted his seed at the mouth of her womb.

Their mouths sought each other. They kissed passionately, savoring the intense feeling they had just experienced. The kiss broke and Stan rolled of her. They made love two more times before falling asleep in each others arms.

"Sally, stop dreaming and get ready. We have to be at the airport in one hour," Stan said.

"Where are you going?" she asked getting up.

"To pay our bill, why?" Stan said.

"Oh nothing," she said, pouting, and walked to the bathroom dragging her baby doll nightie behind her.

Holiday Inn, New York, Monday 9th December 1963

"Jaldi karo na (Please hurry up)," Mr. Mannubhai Patel said to his wife Kokilaben, "Otherwise we'll miss our flight."

"Main tayyar hoon lakin aapki lardli beti ko time lag raha hai (I am ready but your darling daughter is taking her time)," Kokilaben Patel replied.

"I am also ready," Arti announced emerging from the bathroom wearing tight jeans and body hugging sweater.

Arti was twenty years old. She was very pretty with a gorgeous figure. Her parents had brought her to the States in the hope that they will find a suitable match for her in the large Guajarati community living here but after three months she was still unmarried. Now they were returning home.

"Oh my God," Kokilaben said slapping her forehead.

"What is the matter?" Arti said, "Is something wrong?"

"Look at yourself," Kokilaben said, "If a decent Gujarati boy sees you in these clothes he'll reject you right away."

"What is wrong with them? They are very comfortable," Arti said.

"So is a sari," Kokilaben said.

"Mama, it is only for the flight," Arti said.

"Many Indians will be returning home on this flight. Some on them will have marriageable sons at home. Why take a chance," Kokilaben said, "Best is that you speak with your father. Mannubhai, look how your daughter is dressed."

Mr. Patel saw her and said, "Your mother is right; wear a sari. I suggest that you wear the red sari which you bought just before coming to the States."

"Oh papa, I have already packed it," Arti said.

"Don't worry I'll help you unpack," Kokilaben said quickly. Arti took the sari and went into the bathroom leaving her mother to repack the suitcase.

"I'm ready," Arti said ten minutes later.

"Arti, my dear, I bet you'll be the prettiest girl on the flight," Mr. Patel said, hugging his daughter.

Convent of Sacred Heart, New Jersey, Monday 9th December 1963

"Sister Abigail, are the children ready?" Mother Superior of the Convent of Sacred Heart asked.

"Yes, Mother Superior," Sister Abigail replied.

"All right, ask them to stand in line next to their suitcases," Mother Superior said.

"Sister Bernadine, Sister Augusta, get the girls to stand in a line," Sister Abigail said, "Girls, stand in one line next to your suitcase."

The girls scampered and, amid lots of giggling and jousting, they stood in one line. When order was restored one suitcase stood unattended.

"Whose suitcase is this?" Mother Superior said, pointing to the case in question. Everyone bent forward to see who was missing.

"Mother Superior, I think it is Rosaline's," Angela said.

Just then six-year-old Rosaline came running, hugging a doll. "Where were you?" Sister Augusta asked sternly.

"I went to get my dolly. Please can I take her with me?" Rosaline said pouting, "Will the Pope shake her hand also?" Some of the girls giggled.

"Quiet. Of course Rosaline you can take her. The Pope will be very happy to shake her hand," Mother Superior said touching her cheeks.

"The bus is ready," Sister Constantine announced.

"All right girls, remember what I told you. Older girls keep an eye on the younger ones sitting next to them. Now get on the bus," Mother Superior said, "Angela, take special care of Rosaline. Make sure she doesn't get into trouble or wander off."

"Yes, Mother Superior," Angela said obediently. Angela was a beauty. She was fourteen with long blonde hair, blue eyes and shapely boobs.

"Have a nice trip," Mother Superior said, as the bus started to move.

"Bye, bye," the girls shouted excitedly, waving wildly to all who were not so lucky to go with them.

Twelve girls of the Convent of Sacred Heart were visiting Rome for fifteen days. Sister Abigail was in charge with Sister Bernadine and Sister Augusta to help her. The Pope had graciously agreed to receive them in The Vatican on the 13th of December.

JFK Airport, Monday 9th December 1963.

The departure lounge for flight WAC 1403A at JFK Airport was overflowing with passengers like any other lounge. The seats were not enough to accommodate all the passengers.

Among the passengers there were eight priests in cassocks and three monks dressed in frocks on the flight that day. Two priests stood by the large windows watching the movement of the planes, two browsed through books/magazines at the book stall, and the balance of four sat sprinkled around the lounge reading newspapers, etc. The three monks were busy talking among themselves.

Helga sat at the bar drinking tea and Karl stood by her side imbibing beer. Helga was talking and Karl listened to her attentively.

Joe Roach sat at a table with a glass of beer. He was watching Helga covertly. There was something about this woman that excited him.

"May I join you," Thomas Leighton said to Joe.

"Sure," Joe replied.

Immediately a waitress approached the table to take his order. Thomas ordered a cup of tea.

"Bewitching, isn't she?" Thomas chuckled.

"I have fucked a few hundred girls. Most of them were air hostesses and much prettier than she is. But there is something about her which excites me," Joe replied, without taking his eyes off Helga, "Doesn't she do something to you also?"

"You want to know what excites me?" Thomas Leighton chuckled, surveying the lounge. Joe nodded.

"Do you see the woman in the far corner wearing a red dress?" Thomas asked. Joe nodded again.

"Look past her then you'll see two school boys," Thomas said.

"Yeah, I see them," Joe confirmed.

"I like that type of virgin material," Thomas laughed.

"Oh, I see," Joe said, "I didn't know you were gay."

"When I have the half a million bucks then I'll get myself a different boy of different nationality for each day of the week," Thomas said dreamily.

"Best of luck," Joe laughed and moved off.

Peter Ivanovic kept an eye on his flock. He saw Thomas joining Joe at his table and frowned. I'll have to talk to them to follow his orders strictly in future. He nodded his approval when he saw Joe move off.

The Patel's waited patiently for their flight to be announced. Arti Patel was the prettiest girl in the lounge drawing glances of admiration from one and all. Arti was enjoying the attention she was getting.

"Arti, wearing the red sari was the right decision," Mrs. Patel chuckled, "You are the center of attraction." Arti smiled happily.

"Why not? Our daughter is beautiful, but the pity is that the Indian families on our flight have only small children," Mr. Patel lamented.

They missed one admirer of Arti. Mike Scott sat facing Arti four rows away. He could not keep his eyes away from Arti's beautiful face and her hourglass figure. He stared brazenly at her. For a fraction of a second their eyes met. He smiled at her. Arti returned his smile shyly and lowered her eyes.

"She is lovely," he thought, "Why can't I meet girls like her?"

Stan and Sally sat in the last row oblivious to what was going on around them.

The girls from the Convent chattered excitedly with each other. They ran around playing games. The nuns kept an eye on them and called them back if they wandered off too far.

Ali and Asif watched the young girls from the convent particularly Angela.

"Asif, look at the blonde girl," Ali said, "Doesn't she remind you of the blonde we had in Cairo?"

"Yes, she was hot," Ali said, "Remember she had promised to come back. Maybe we should have waited for her."

"You idiot, if we had waited then we would have been behind bars for kidnapping that American girl," Ali said tersely.

"Yes, that is so, but I miss her," Asif replied, "Maybe we can have some fun with her when this caper is over."

"Yeah, that is the first good idea you have had all day," Ali drooled.

Mr. and Mrs. Alex Smith were also flying to Frankfurt by WAC 1403A. Alex and Martha had migrated to the United States from Germany shortly after they got married.

For thirty years they had worked hard and ten years ago, when the owner of the Hardware store in which Alex worked was put up for sale, they bought it. For the last ten years they had not gone on a vacation of more than a few days.

When Alex turned sixty they decided to sell the store and enjoy life in general. This was their first trip home since they had emigrated.

"Oh, oh," Martha said.

"What is the matter, honey," Alex asked.

"Do you see those two men staring at the blonde girl?" Martha asked.

"Of course, she is young and very beautiful," Alex chuckled, "Any red-blooded American would admire such a beauty."

Alex and Martha were more American than the most of the Americans. They had even changed their name to Smith from Schmidt to blend better with them.

"Yes, but they are foreigners," Martha said, in a confidential tone.

"Let them enjoy also," Alex laughed.

"Alex, mark my words," Martha prophesied, shaking her forefinger at Alex, "There will be trouble on the flight."

"Martha, relax and enjoy," Alex advised, "Shall I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Martha said stiffly.

Other seats were occupied by three families, two Indian and one American, a group of Hare Krishna Hare Rama sect, and several single men of different age groups who looked like students and business men.

Few minutes later the loudspeaker crackled announcing the departure of Flight WAC 1403A.

Flight WAC 1403A was a combi flight i.e. only half the flight was meant for passengers and the rest for cargo.

The passenger cabin was located immediately after the cockpit in the front half of the aircraft and was partitioned off from the rest of the aircraft. This flight had only one class i.e. economy. Most of the seats in the passenger cabin were occupied but some seats were still available.

The priests and the monks occupied the first two rows.

Mr. Patel, his wife Kokilaben and Arti sat in the thirteenth row on the left of the front as you enter the aircraft. Mr. Patel occupied the window seat, his wife Kokilaben sat in the center and Arti sat in the aisle seat.

Mike sat in an aisle seat in eleventh row. Mr. and Mrs. Alex Smith occupied two seats in the fifteenth row on the right and Sally and Stan Holworth sat in the eighteenth row but on the opposite side of the Smiths.

The girls from the convent and the nuns occupied three rows - seventh, eighth and ninth. Sister Bernadine occupied the aisle seat in front of Mike, Sister Augusta sat on the aisle seat of eighth row but on the other side and Sister Abigail occupied aisle seat on the same side as Sister Bernadine but in the seventh row. In this way one nun kept tabs on five girls. Angela sat next to Sister Augusta. Rosaline, glued to the window, sat next to Sister Augusta.

Out of the other seats about ninety percent were occupied by the three families, Hare Krishna Hare Rama clan, students and business men and the rest were vacant.

The flight took off punctually and proceeded smoothly towards its destination. During the flight the children chattered noisily and ran up and down the aisle playing games. The nuns caught them and led them back to their seats in case they ran too far. Angela, the oldest of the girls, changed places with Sister Augusta as Sister Augusta was feeling airsick.

The Hare Krishna Hare Rama clan strummed the strings of a guitar and sang songs softly. Some read and others slept. After meals the lights were dimmed and the stewardesses got time to relax.

The passengers dozed as the plane unerringly flew towards the mainland of Europe. As the plane flew over the mainland of Europe three figures rose from their seats and covering their faces with ski masks, entered the flight deck. A few minutes later four others got up and wearing their ski masks took their positions as decided earlier.

Peter and Thomas emerged a few minutes later with the flight crew in tow. In the meanwhile, Helga and Karl had rounded up the other three air hostesses and handcuffed them.

"Gentlemen, please find other seats," Peter said respectfully to the clergymen occupying the first two rows, "because the crew members are going to sit here."

The clergymen vacated their seats post haste and found alternate seats. The crew was handcuffed to the seats. The process went so smoothly that the rest of the passengers did not have any inkling of it.

Then Peter announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the plane has been hijacked and we are in control now. One stewardess will be available to look after your immediate needs." Helga freed a hostess named Mimi.

Suddenly there was panic. Some passengers screamed, some protested loudly and some looked towards the sky seeking Divine help.

"Please remain seated. No one will get hurt if you obey us," Peter Ivanovic announced.

"Where are you taking us?" someone asked.

"There are many possibilities," Peter replied patiently, "I'll let you know as soon as it is finalized."

Peter returned to the flight deck after making the announcement.

The next two hours the aircraft flew towards its new destination. The hijackers stood guard while Mimi attended to the passenger's immediate needs.

"Brother," Ali said, "get me something to drink. I am very thirsty."

"I saw just the thing for you," Asif replied laughing.

Few minutes later he returned with two bottles of wine. "Drink this with the compliments of the management," Asif laughed, taking a swig out of his bottle. They drank in silence for a while.

"She looks like an angel with her fair skin, blue eyes and golden hair, doesn't she?" Ali said, nudging Asif with his elbow.

"You are right," Asif replied, "Beautiful girl, what is your name?"

"Angela, sir," she replied shyly.

"What an appropriate name," Ali laughed, "She looks like an angel...Angela."

This exchange was followed by silence.

Suddenly Ali said impulsively, "Listen Angela, forget the nuns. Come with us. We'll show you how to have fun...real fun."

"Yeah, each night will be your wedding night," Asif elaborated, and laughing added, "some nights you will celebrate your wedding night two or three times."

"Please don't," Angela blushed, and hid her face in Sister Augusta's big bosom.

"Please sir, this is no way to talk," Sister Augusta said, "She is very young."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize that she was a virgin," Ali chuckled.

"Yeah, talk about her wedding night must be embarrassing for her," Asif laughed.

"I know what pretty girls like," Ali said, pocketing the gun and pointing to her blouse, "undo the buttons of your blouse and give us a glimpse of your beautiful boobs."

"No...no," Angela screeched, cringing deeper into her seat.

"Don't touch her," Sister Augusta said tersely, pushing Ali's hand away.

"You bloody black bitch how dare you touch me? If you touch me again then I'll fuck you so hard in your ass hole that you won't be able to sit or shit for several days, understood?" Ali said, glaring angrily at Sister Augusta.

Everyone was shocked, shocked at the ferocity and profanity of the threat. Sister Augusta cringed back in her seat under the Ali's angry stare. Suddenly Ali smiled, displaying his dirty yellow teeth, and turning to Angela said, "Now where was I...oh yes...open the buttons of your blouse, little girl, and show us your shapely tits...or I'll open them for you."

"NO, NO PLEASE DON'T TOUCH ME," Angela yelped, and cringed back.

Asif laughed.

Mike could no longer take it. He sprang to his feet and caught Ali's hand moving towards the buttons of Angela's blouse and said menacingly, "You bastard, can't you understand English? She said not to touch her," and punched Ali squarely on his nose.

Ali staggered back into Asif, unbalancing him and they fell to the floor of the plane.

"Let us have a look at your face," Mike said, and bent down to unmask the hijacker.

Just as Mike was about to pull off the ski mask another hijacker attacked him from behind. Mike turned to face him. They both grappled. Soon Mike had wrestled the hijacker to the floor and ripped off his mask but at that very moment someone gun whipped him.

"OH," Mike cried, and holding his head fell on the floor unconscious.

The second hijacker took this opportunity to turn his face around towards the plane's floor and stood up after adjusting his mask.

"You barbarians, you have killed him," Arti screamed, and getting up from her seat, sat on the floor of the plane, holding Mike's bleeding head on her lap. She appealed to the passengers, "Is there a doctor on board?"

There was no response.

"Oh, is there a doctor on board?" she begged again, with tears running down her cheeks.

A man of forty-five with a middle-age belly and thinning hairline stood up. "I am a doctor but I don't have my bag with me," he said apologetically.

"Oh Lord, please don't let this brave man die," Arti pleaded, looking upwards.

"We have a first aid kit on board," Mini the hostess whispered, hesitatingly.

"What are you waiting for? Go get it girl," the hijacker, whom Mike had unmasked, said.

The doctor worked with practiced ease. A quarter of an hour later he announced, "He'll be okay. The wound is not deep and the bleeding has stopped. I've bandaged it for the present but he requires to be kept under observation for at least forty-eight hours."

"Papa, you occupy this brave gentleman's seat, mama you shift to papa's seat and I'll sit with him in case he requires something," Arti said.

When they were seated, Kokilaben Patel said, "Arti, your sari is ruined. You'll never be able to get rid of these blood stains."

"Oh, mama, you are worried about the damned sari when a man's life is at stake," Arti responded. Kokilaben blushed at this rebuke and looked out of the window.

An hour later a hijacker announced, "We'll be landing in Moscow shortly. An ambulance will be waiting at the tarmac to take this young man to the hospital."

When the plane landed the paramedics boarded the plane. As they carried Mike out, Arti followed.

"Arti, stop," Kokilaben said, "the doctors will now take care of him."

"No, mama, I want to be with him till he is okay," Arti said, and sat in the ambulance with Mike.

Next morning the world media went wild.

"FLIGHT WAC 1403A HIJACKED TO MOSCOW" read one headline.

"RUSSIA PERMITS U.S. PLANE TO LAND ON ITS SOIL" screamed the headline of another paper.

"PLANE HIJACKED. ALL PASSENGERS SAFE," read the headlines of the third newspaper and so on.

There was a lot of speculation attached to the hijacking. Some papers in the U.S. even insinuated that USSR had engineered it because of the Cuba blockade.

In the afternoon Col. Molokov read out a prepared statement to the press.