Flight WAC 1403A

"Do you want to marry me?" I persisted.

"What sort of question is that," Mike asked, deflecting my query.

"Answer me," I insisted.

"Yes, very much," he replied.

"Then why don't you say something," I probed further.

"What is the use," Mike said, "Your parents would never agree to let you marry a foreigner."

"Why don't you try?" I said, "Mike, propose to me."

"Arti please, don't make fun of me," he said.

"Mike, I am serious," I replied, "Go ahead and propose to me."

"It was midnight. The streets were deserted. Mike sat me on the parapet by the Arabian Sea and going down on one knee and said, "Arti, I love you very much and can't live without you. I'll be honored if you will consent to be my wife."

"Yes, darling, I will," I replied, falling into his arms. Then we kissed for the first time.

"What about your parents?" Mike asked, when our kiss broke, "How will you make them agree?"

"Don't worry, I've a plan to persuade them," I giggled, "Let us go to bed now."

"Okay, I'll go and fetch a cab," Mike said.

"No, let us spend the night in your room," I giggled, "Poor Mike was scandalized."

"Are you mad?" he said incredulously, "We can't sleep together before we are married. I know how important virginity is to the Indians."

"You are so sweet," I said, then with a naughty twinkle in my eyes I added, "and if I had not been an Indian?"

"I wouldn't have thought twice," he replied, grinning broadly.

"Listen. My plan is that I can't return home before morning and we can't remain here all night," I said, "Let us go to your room. You can sleep on the bed and I'll sleep on the floor."

When we approached Mike's room we met the room boy carrying food for some other guest. "Good night, madam. Good night, sir," he greeted us with a cheesy grin.

"Arti, your reputation will be in tatters by morning," Mike chuckled.

"Good. It suits my plan," I laughed.

In the morning we reached my parents flat around nine. "Mike, I'll tell them that we had spent the night together. They will believe the worst. Just endorse what I say and don't deny anything," I told him.

"I don't know if I can carry it out," Mike replied doubtfully.

"Mike, do you want to fuck me?" I asked brutally.

"Yes, very much," he replied truthfully.

"Then do as you are told," I ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied meekly.

"My parents were eating breakfast. "Good morning papa, Good morning mama," I said brightly.

"Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Patel," Mike said.

"My mother took me aside and whispered, "Arti, where were you last night?"

"We were together at his hotel," I replied, loud enough for papa and Mike to hear.

"WHAT?" mama shouted losing her cool.

"I said we spent the night together in his room," I replied calmly.

"Oh my God," mama exclaimed, "did you...I mean did he...oh you know what I mean."

"Yes, we slept together. If that is what you want to know," I replied, blushing.

My mother broke down and began to cry. "Kokilaben, what happened?" papa asked, "Why are you crying?"

"I told you not to give her so much freedom," mama said, sobbing, "Now, except crying, what is left for us?"

"Arti, what have you told her?" papa asked.

"Ask her," I answered shrugging.

"Kokilaben, please tell me why you are crying," papa asked.

"T...T...This man has ruined our daughter," mama said, pointing an accusing finger at Mike.

"You rascal! Arti saved your life and you repay her by raping her," papa said, advancing menacingly towards Mike.

Mike stood his ground and replied, "Sir, I did not rape her. I love her and with your permission would like to marry her."

"Mannubhai, I think best thing would be to hand him over to the police," mama suggested.

"You are right," papa said, "Call the police."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said.

"Why not? What can you do?" mama said clenching and unclenching her fists in frustration.

"It will result only in unwanted publicity," replied, "I'll tell them that I am over eighteen and gave myself to Mike willingly."

"She is right," papa said, cooling down, "They'll talk to our neighbors, the press, everyone."

"Oh my God," mama said, holding her head between her hands, "What shall we do?"

"Oh papa, please can I marry Mike?" I begged.

"Arti, you are very naïve. A marriage vow means nothing to these foreigners. They are not capable of love. You are his present fancy and tomorrow it will be someone else. You can't trust them," papa said.

"Mike, come," I said, "I am not going to listen while papa calls you names."

I left with Mike and returned late in the night only.

I met my parents but they didn't say a word. I shrugged and went to my room. In the next days few days I got the silent treatment from my parents. I was also adamant and didn't speak to them but kept my eyes and ears open.

One day I heard mama say, "Mannubhai, I am very worried. What if Arti becomes pregnant?" I smiled to myself; my plan was working.

"Kokilaben, Arti is a good girl," papa said, "I think she is trying to force us to give permission to marry that rascal."

"How will you find out the truth?" mama said.

"I know of a good private detective. He'll ferret out the truth," papa said.

Next challenge before me was my period. Mama kept a track of them. I had a Godmother, Dr. Shyama Motwani, a gynecologist. Her daughter Rashmi was my best friend. I took Rashmi into my confidence and when after ten days my period started I was able to pay special attention to the required hygiene at her house without my Godmother or my mother knowing it.

"One night I overheard mama saying," I think Arti is pregnant. She is ten days overdue."

"I was afraid of that. The P.I. also confirmed that they had spent the night together," papa said, "I think marrying th...that man is better than becoming an unwed mother."

"Before we take this step we must be sure that she is pregnant," mama said.

"I have an idea. You tell Arti to get a checkup done by Shyama. If she refuses then we'll know that she is lying," papa chuckled, "Either way we'll know the truth."

I dashed back to my room. Mama came and said, "Arti, papa wants you to go to Aunt Shyama for a checkup."

I decided to brazen it out and replied, "Sure, no problem."

I could not sleep all night. If she told my parents the truth then everything would be ruined. Next morning I rushed to her house before she left for her clinic. I told Rashmi what mama had said.

"Shit," Rashmi exclaimed, "Mummy will never support you."

"There is no harm in trying," I said.

"Okay come," Rashmi said, looking at her wrist watch, added, "She'll be eating breakfast."

I told Aunt Shyama everything from the hijacking to the present. She asked a number of questions to which I responded frankly and truthfully.

"Did you spend a night alone with him?" she asked.

"Yes, I did," I replied.

"Did you both sleep in the same bed?" she questioned further.

"Yes, we did," I confirmed.

"You say you have done nothing wrong," she queried.

"I swear to God that he did not even lay a finger on me," I said, placing my right hand on my heart.

"If he had laid a finger on you what would you have done?" she asked.

"I love him and would have willingly surrendered my virginity to him," I replied truthfully.

"I'll support you. Come to my clinic at four," she said with a smile.

"Thank you Aunt Shyama," I said, "I'll be always in your debt."

"Child, this is true love and deserves all the support it can get," she responded, smiling.

After Aunt Shyama had checked me up she rang up my father. "Mannubhai, I have seen Arti. I suggest you marry her off as soon as possible," she said.

"Oh my God! Are you sure?" papa asked.

"Mannubhai, I don't have the time to answer your foolish questions. I have given you my opinion. It is now up to you," she said curtly, and cut off the line.

"Thank you, Aunt Shyama," I said, laughing nervously.

"The atmosphere at home was completely changed. Papa sent a telegram calling Mike to Bombay. Mike contacted his mother. In a week we were married," Arti laughed, finishing her story.

"What did your parents say when the baby did not come?" Mary laughed.

"We confessed and they took it very sportingly," Mike chuckled, "When Rahul was born, papa said, 'Arti is very slow. She took nearly nine years to make a baby whereas other women require only nine months to do it."

"Very interesting story," Mary said, "Do we have your permission to print it?"

Arti looked at Mike.

"Sure, why not?" Mike chuckled.

"Mike, if you don't mind we would like to hear your version of the hijacking drama, especially your altercation with the hijackers," Jim Rally said.

Mike narrated his story. It was essentially a repetition of what the other witnesses had said before. About his fight with the hijackers, he said, "I recall punching the rascal, who was teasing the young girl, on the nose and bending down to unmask him but after that my mind is completely blank. Arti tells me that I grappled with another hijacker and managed to unmask him but despite my trying hard, I have no recollection of it."

"That blow on the head seems to have affected your memory," Jim said, sympathetically. "Keep trying, sometimes the memory comes back in a flash," Mary said, encouragingly. "Yes, that is what the doctor said," Mike responded.

They chatted for some time, then the two journalists left. As they were leaving, Jim said, "Congratulations! I see that your mother was wrong and you were able to wash off the blood stains from your sari."

"Unfortunately mama was right. That sari was ruined," Arti responded, "This is a new one."

"Well, you can't win them all," Jim laughed, "Bye Arti, bye Mike and thank you for your cooperation."

When they were alone Arti said, "Mike, is something the matter? You kept looking at Mr. Rally and frowning."

"Was it so obvious? I hope they did not notice it," Mike said.

"I don't think so. They were more interested in my story," Arti replied, "Why were you doing it?"

"Somehow I felt that I had seen Mr. Rally before but could not place him," Mike replied.

"Just relax. It'll come to you on its own in couple days," Arti advised.

NEW YORK, MONDAY 13th MAY 1974

Mary sat in her cabin analyzing the different testimonies. There were several points which puzzled her. She required expert advice. She called Alan.

"Detective Inspector Jones speaking," Alan said, answering the phone.

"Alan, I need to talk to you," Mary said.

"Hi, beautiful. I'll come by your place when I am done here," Alan replied.

"No, not at home," Mary said, "There you get easily distracted."

"Only because you are so beautiful and sexy," Alan chuckled.

"Alan, I am serious," Mary said, "Can I come by your office now?"

"Sure, I'll be here," Alan responded.

"Okay, I'm coming," Mary said, and banged down the receiver.

Mary drove to Alan's office. It was shortly after five and she got caught in the homebound traffic. It took her nearly an hour to reach Alan's office.

"I am sorry to keep you waiting," Mary panted, "I got stuck in the traffic."

"That's all right," Alan replied, "I'll bring you coffee while you catch your breath."

"Alright, what did you want to discuss with me?" Alan said, placing a cup of steaming coffee before Mary.

"Alan, there are a number of points that I don't understand," Mary said.

"Tell me," Alan replied.

Alan listened attentively as Mary related all that happened on Saturday.

"Okay, now what is unclear?" Alan asked.

"My questions are: first, how did Jim Rally recognize Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Holworth when he never saw them before and secondly how did he know that the lady with a child in her lap sitting on the patio of the Scott residence was not Mrs. Scott?" Mary asked.

"Mary, don't tell me that you suspect your boss of being the eighth hijacker," Alan asked, incredulously.

"Alan, please don't make fun of me," Mary begged, "As it is I am very ashamed of entertaining such thoughts."

"Okay. What was the question...Oh yes. May he had seen their picture in the newspaper," Alan responded.

"No, firstly he was away on leave visiting his sick mother in L.A. when the hijacking took place. Secondly none of the three ladies were here and thirdly none of the local newspapers carried a picture of any of the three ladies nor was their photo on the national wire service," Mary said.

"Then he must have seen them at the trial," Alan said.

"Yeah, that is possible but requires confirmation," Mary said, "But how do you explain his remark about Arti's sari? There was no mention of it in the police investigation report or the trial."

"What remark?" Alan asked, sitting up straight.

"When we were about to leave after talking to Arti and Mike, the boss said, I quote: "Congratulations, I see that your mother was wrong and you were able to wash the blood stains from your sari."

"Unfortunately mama was right. That sari was ruined," Arti responded, "This is a new one."

"Well you can't win them all," Jim laughed, "Bye, Arti, bye Mike and thank you for your cooperation." unquote."

"This is odd. I don't recall Arti mentioning anything about the bloodstains on her sari during questioning or at the trial. This requires looking into," Alan said thoughtfully.

"I thought so too," Mary responded, pleased with herself.

"The other night you posed a question," Alan asked, "What was it?"

"I think I have the answer," Mary stated proudly. "The question was, how can a hijacker appear and then disappear without anybody noticing it?"

"And what is the answer?" Alan chuckled.

"There were many members of the Church traveling on the flight. The eighth hijacker could easily have disguised himself in a priest's cassock or a monk's frock and once the plane had been hijacked, gone to a toilet and taken it off. Voila, a hijacker appears and later he dons his disguise and disappears."

"If this is what happened then, logically no other passenger could use that toilet after the plane had been hijacked, right," Alan stated thoughtfully.

"That's right. I hadn't thought of that," Mary agreed.

"How many toilets were there?" Alan asked.

"Four in front of the cabin and two in the rear," Mary responded.

"The ones in front would have been too risky," Alan surmised, "It must have been one in the rear."

"You are right," Mary said excitedly. "Maybe one of the passengers noticed it."

"Yes, ring up the Holworths and the Smiths and ask them," Alan suggested, pushing the phone towards Mary.

Mary rang up Sally Holworth and asked the question.

"Sorry, each time I used the toilet it was not occupied or locked," Sally replied.

"What about Mr. Holworth? Did he say anything to you about it," Mary asked.

"No, he didn't mention it," Sally replied, "I can ask him and let you know."

"Don't bother," Mary said, "Just give me the phone number and I'll enquire." Sally gave Mary the phone number and rang off.

Then Mary called the Smiths. Martha said no but Alex remembered that when he went to the toilet before they landed in Moscow he had to wait because one of them was occupied and the other locked.

"What's wrong with this toilet?" Mr. Smith recalled asking the hijacker guarding the rear of the cabin.

"Sorry, sir, it has been locked by the crew because of some malfunction," the hijacker had replied, politely.

Mary thanked him and signed off.

"Alan, it is now confirmed that there were eight hijackers and not seven," Mary said, laughing nervously.

"Looks like it," Alan agreed, "Have you any other questions?"

"No," Mary said, "Oh Alan, I am so happy. Let us do something really crazy."

Alan leaned forward and whispered in Mary's ear, "Let's go to your flat and take our clothes off and come what may, not wear them till the next morning."

"Detective Inspector Alan Jones, you have a dirty mind...but I like it," Mary giggled, with a naughty twinkle in her eyes, "Let's go."

NEW YORK, WEDNESDAY 15th May 1974

Alan phoned Mary around four in the evening. "Hello beautiful, how are you today?" Alan enquired.

"A little sore; otherwise okay," Mary giggled, "Any new developments?"

"Yes, that is why I rang you up," Alan said, "Yesterday, Mike came to see me. Apparently his memory has come back and he recognized Jim Rally as the eighth hijacker."

"That is wonderful news," Mary said, "Can we print it?"

"No, not yet," Alan continued, "I apprised Agent Greg Bradley of the developments, in detail. He said he will interrogate the hijackers again and get back to me."

"Why? We have a positive identification by Mike," Mary asked.

"Yes, but Mike's memory came back at a very opportune time and a good defense lawyer would tear his testimony to shreds in cross examination," Alan clarified.

"Alright, we'll wait," Mary replied.

"Are we meeting tonight?" Alan asked.

"Of course. Why this question," Mary replied.

"You said you were sore, I thought..." Alan left the sentence unfinished.

"Is that the only thing you meet me for?" Mary asked, feigning anger.

"No, no," Alan assured Mary hastily, "You know I love you."

"I know. I was only teasing you," Mary giggled, "A little soreness will not stop me from enjoying myself."

"Bye, see you tonight," Alan chuckled.

"Bye," Mary responded, and signed off.

NEW YORK, WEDNESDAY 22nd MAY 1974.

"Hi, beautiful! I received a call from Agent Bradley saying that he wants you to come for a meeting at Langley, Virginia on Friday at noon," Alan said, "He also said not to tell anybody where you are going, especially in your office."

"Okay," Mary confirmed, "Alan, will be there too."

"Yes, I'll be flying on the Washington shuttle around 10 a. m." Alan replied, "If you like I can come to you on Thursday evening and travel together to Washington on Friday."

"That would be ideal," Mary purred, "See you tomorrow."

CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VA., FRIDAY 24th MAY 1974.

Four people, Graham Hussley, Mary Pullman, Alan Jones and Greg Bradley, had assembled at noon in the conference room at the headquarters of The Agency.

"Good morning," Greg Bradley said, "Welcome to Langley. Before I tell you the latest developments in the hijacking case I'd like to summarize the known details."

Then Greg Bradley summed up the investigations to-date, including Mary's groundbreaking discoveries and Mike's positive identification of Jim Rally as the eighth hijacker.

"Oh my God," Mr. Hussley exclaimed incredulously, "you suspect Jim Rally."

"I am sorry Graham it is more than just a suspicion and I expect your cooperation to bring him to book," Greg responded.

"Don't worry," Graham promised, "you'll get all the cooperation you desire."

"On last Friday I interrogated the seven hijackers individually. Each of them reiterated that there were only seven hijackers.

When I was interrogating Asif Hussain, he said, "Sir, what will happen to Ali and me after we have completed our sentence?"

I explained to him that as per current policy we would deport you to Egypt. Then he wanted to know if there was a way Ali and he could stay in America. At first I said no...then a thought crossed my mind...

"If you cooperate with us and tell us all you know, then in exchange we can consider letting you stay in America.

"Oh, I see," he said but did not take the bait.

On Monday, I received a phone call from the Jail Superintendent telling me that the two Egyptians prisoners wanted to talk to me. I went back to see them hoping they would cooperate.

"Thank you, sir, for acceding to our request and coming out here to meet with us," Asif said politely.

"That is all right," I responded, "What do you want?"

"Sir, if we agree to tell you all we know truthfully and cooperate with the authorities then will you let us stay in the US?" Ali asked.