The Vanishing Act

FROM THE AUTHOR

"In the early 1970s, the mystery of D.B. Cooper captured the public’s imagination. In 1971, Cooper hijacked a commercial flight, demanding $200,000 in ransom ($1.7 million today) and four parachutes.

After receiving the money and parachutes, he released all the passengers and instructed the pilots to fly the plane to Mexico. Somewhere over the Pacific Northwest, Cooper lowered the plane’s rear steps and parachuted into the night. Despite one of the most extensive investigations in FBI history, he was never found and seemingly vanished without a trace.

One theory around the case is that Cooper requested multiple parachutes to convince authorities he might force a crew member to jump with him, discouraging them from sabotaging the equipment or supplying him with a fake parachute.

The D.B. Cooper story has fascinated me ever since my friend and fellow author, Celeste Castro, first introduced me to it several years ago. It also inspired me to write The Vanishing Act, which opens with the hijacking of a plane."

—Cade Haddock Strong

Chapter One

CeCe Stewart slid into seat 7B on the cramped regional jet and cracked her knuckles. She glanced at her watch, then double-checked her boarding pass. Her flight to Burlington, VT wasn’t scheduled to depart for another nine minutes. Plenty of time to pull out her laptop and give her calculations one last look.

After that, no more stalling. It was time to send the newest financial model she’d developed to her boss—Therese, a woman she feared and lusted after in equal measure. CeCe’s heart raced at the thought. The latest model, Jupiter V, was her baby. She’d toiled over it day and night for weeks. Now all she had to do was launch it out into the world.

Her company, Luxor Capital, had made industry headlines when it first released proprietary financial software, Jupiter I, a few years earlier. Since then, the software had undergone several updates, but the logic CeCe had built into Jupiter V was unlike anything they’d done before. She knew it was brilliant, maybe even groundbreaking. This was CeCe’s chance to prove herself, to finally show Therese what she was capable of.

CeCe pulled her computer from her shoulder bag and lowered the tray table. She logged in and glanced up toward the front of the plane. The flight attendant had begun his slow walk down the aisle, instructing people to stow their carry-ons in preparation for departure.

“Please power down your laptop,” the attendant said when he reached CeCe.

CeCe smiled and nodded at him, but as soon as he passed by, she returned her gaze to the numbers on her screen. Two more minutes, that’s all she needed. The hum of the other passengers around her disappeared into the background.

The flight attendant cleared his throat when he walked back toward the front of the plane. CeCe saved the model and slapped her laptop shut. As soon as they were airborne, she’d draft a message to Therese and share the link to the model.

Then, maybe CeCe could finally get some sleep and enjoy her brief getaway to the Green Mountains. A few days of hiking and biking in the great outdoors were exactly what she needed. She was way too young to have low back pain. Growing up, she’d been a tomboy, playing every sport under the sun. It was time to whip herself back into shape.

It was early May, still a bit premature for exploring some of the trails in Vermont. While most of the snow had probably melted, mud season was in full swing. CeCe didn’t mind, though. She would need to steer clear of the higher-elevation trails, but at least she’d escape the summer crowds.

She’d intentionally taken this trip solo, worried she’d no longer be able to keep up with her friends in the hiking group she belonged to, or at least used to belong to, before the job at Luxor Capital consumed her life.

A few moments later, the small plane pushed back from the gate and taxied toward the runway. According to the pilot, the flight time from Washington Dulles to Burlington would be a swift one hour and nine minutes. As the plane lifted into the air, CeCe peered out her window, momentarily captivated by the sight of the world shrinking below her. Soon, the sprawling housing developments and the endless sea of white-roofed warehouses gave way to a mosaic of green fields and dense forests. The contradiction between the landscapes was so striking. How long had it been since she’d left the city?

The steady hum of the airplane engines blended with the low murmur of conversations and the occasional rustle of a magazine page turning. CeCe fidgeted in her seat, watching the minutes tick by as she waited for the ding to indicate she could use her laptop again. Precious minutes she could have spent working.

The man in the window seat beside her had let his beefy arm drift into her space. It pressed against her elbow, a slow and steady invasion. CeCe’s hand hovered near the armrest, but instead of nudging him or even glancing his way, she pressed herself closer to the aisle.

When the long-awaited ding came, CeCe barely had time to pull her laptop out again before the flight attendant’s voice came over the PA, instructing passengers to stow their devices in preparation for landing. She reread the email she’d drafted to Therese, but she couldn’t bring herself to hit send. What if she’d overlooked an error in the model?

With a sharp exhale, she closed the laptop and tucked it back into her bag. Better to wait. She’d review the model one last time when she got to her hotel in Stowe.

The plane banked hard to the left, causing her neighbor’s half-empty cup of Coke to slide across his still open tray table. He snatched it just before it landed in CeCe’s lap.

The aircraft’s nose tipped up and its engines whined. Why were they gaining altitude? The pilot’s voice came over the PA system a moment later and answered her question.

His voice crackled over the intercom, strained with tension. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re diverting to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Please remain seated and follow the cabin crew’s instructions.” He didn’t offer an explanation as to why the plane was diverting. Maybe the check engine light had come on? It was probably something minor and they were landing in Harrisburg out of an abundance of caution. Stay calm, CeCe. Flying is way safer than driving.

Confusion rippled through the cabin as passengers exchanged worried glances.

The male flight attendant made his way down the aisle, uttering, “Close your tray table. Make sure your seat belts are fastened.”

“Why are we diverting?” the man seated next to CeCe asked, his voice tight. As his grip on the armrest tightened, the sleeve of his black-and-brown snakeskin jacket rode up his arm, revealing scaly dry skin beneath.

The flight attendant shrugged and merely responded, “Seat belts, please. We’ll be landing soon.”

CeCe remained outwardly composed, suppressing her frustration at the delay the diversion would cause. Her tightly packed, meticulously planned agenda in Vermont would be thrown into disarray before her trip had even begun. Served her right for trying to take a few days off.

After they landed in Harrisburg, everyone was instructed to disembark and leave their carry-on luggage behind. CeCe pocketed her cell phone and wallet, tucking her laptop under her fleece jacket. Although her financial model was saved in the cloud, the laptop felt like an extension of herself. She couldn’t imagine being separated from it.

A few passengers ignored the instructions and opened the overhead bins, but they were quickly reprimanded by the cabin crew and fellow passengers.

Two armed police officers stood at the door, inspecting passengers as they exited.

That was an ominous sign. Why was there a police presence? The passengers hadn’t been told why the plane had diverted to Harrisburg. Perhaps it was because a bad actor was aboard their plane. But then why not apprehend the person when they landed in Burlington?

The man who had been seated in front of CeCe tried to slip past with a duffel bag tucked under his arm. When the officers told him to leave the bag behind, he became agitated, insisting it contained essential medication he needed. The officers weren’t convinced. They inspected the bag and confiscated it. “We have strict instructions. Passengers are to take no bags. It will be returned to you later,” the female officer said, her tone firm but calm.

“Fine,” the man spat. He stomped down the metal stairs, muttering profanities under his breath.

As CeCe waited for the police officers to call her forward, her gaze drifted over the jet’s small first-class cabin. One man remained seated. He was in the second row, and he eyed the other passengers with a haunted expression. His thick head of black hair was neatly parted, and his wide nostrils flared each time he took a breath. A fleece jacket hung off his slight frame. It was an unusual color, more of a pink than a red. For some reason, the saying “real men wear pink” ran through CeCe’s mind.

The female officer signaled for CeCe to approach the plane door and began to pat her down. CeCe didn’t mind at all. Her eyes flicked to the name tag on the woman’s crisp blue uniform. H. Rodriguez. CeCe decided “H” must stand for “Hot,” because Officer Rodriguez was undeniably just that.

While patting her down, Officer Hot noticed the laptop tucked inside CeCe’s coat. She asked to inspect it but let CeCe tuck it back under her coat. Once the pat-down was complete, CeCe stifled a whimper. Get a grip, CeCe. This is potentially a serious situation and you’re crushing on the cop? The officer gave her a soft smile and gestured for CeCe to head down the stairs.

Once everyone was out on the tarmac, a tension hung in the air. Ground crew guided them along a pathway and into the small, eerily deserted terminal building.

CeCe and the other passengers from Flight 4337 gathered in the small gate area. When the captain entered the terminal, he stepped behind the counter and picked up the microphone. He started to speak but paused as the engines of their regional jet roared back to life. Turning to look out the window, he watched open-mouthed as a tug pushed their plane back away from the gate. He and the first officer shared a questioning glance.

“What about our luggage?” one of the passengers hollered. “I want my suitcase.”

The captain drew his eyes away from the plane and lifted the microphone to his mouth. He hesitated before he spoke. “I’m sure you are all wondering why we diverted to Harrisburg.”

“You bet your sweet ass we are,” a woman mumbled.

The pilot removed his cap, set it gently on the counter, and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “We diverted to Harrisburg because our flight was passively hijacked.”

At the word hijacked, a few people gasped, CeCe among them.

“What the hell is a passive hijacking?” a young man dressed in white sweats asked.

The pilot replaced his cap and scanned the crowd surrounding him. “It means that our plane was hijacked virtually, not by a person physically on board.”

The young man interjected again. “So, what are you trying to tell us? Someone contacted the FAA and said, ‘Divert Flight 4337 to Harrisburg, or else’?”

The captain nodded slowly. “It was a bit more complicated than that, but essentially, yes. Logan Airlines received a message instructing us to divert the plane or face dire consequences. The threat was deemed credible, so we opted to comply.”

“Do you care to elaborate?” CeCe asked.

“I don’t have all the details,” the captain said. “All I can tell you is that, apparently, Logan’s computer systems were targeted with ransomware. Rather than ask for a ransom, the perpetrators demanded that Flight 4337 divert to Harrisburg.”

“But why?” another passenger asked.

Instead of responding, the pilot turned back toward the window. CeCe followed his gaze. Their regional jet barreled down the runway and lifted into the air.

The passenger pressed the pilot. “Answer my question. Why our plane? The perpetrators could have asked for millions of dollars. But instead, their only demand was to divert our minuscule regional jet? That doesn’t add up.”

The pilot lifted his hand into the air. “All I know is, we were instructed to land the plane and get the passengers off safely.”

CeCe struggled to grasp the enormity of the situation. They hadn’t been diverted due to weather or a mechanical problem. Their plane had been fucking hijacked. Via a cyberattack.

As the captain continued to field inquiries from the increasingly anxious passengers, CeCe’s mind raced with questions. Why had their flight been targeted? Who was behind the ransomware attack? And, had the man in first class remained on board? She scanned the gate area to confirm he was not among them. The thin man in the pink-red fleece was nowhere in sight. Had he piloted the plane when it took off again?

“Where is our plane headed now?” CeCe asked no one in particular. She narrowed in on the flight crew. “And who’s flying it?”

CeCe’s questions went unanswered.

The captain tapped on the microphone to get everyone’s attention again. “I ask for your patience,” he said. “We will let you know as soon as we are given further instructions.” With that, he and the rest of the crew slipped through a door at the far end of the gate area and disappeared.

The passengers stayed put, their movements subdued under the watchful eyes of half a dozen police officers stationed around the gate area. A group of passengers huddled together, all seemingly familiar with one another—perhaps a multigenerational family traveling together?

Everyone seemed resigned to the situation, except for one man. Snakeskin Jacket. Unlike the generally calm crowd, he incessantly scratched at his torso and arms and hopped around like he had a pressing need to use the restroom.

CeCe moved away from him and pulled out her phone to call her mom and dad. No doubt, stories about the hijacking would soon be splashed across the TV and social media. Although her parents were off at a yoga retreat with a strict no-electronics policy, she wanted to let them know she was okay. After three calls to the resort where they were staying went unanswered, she stuffed her phone back into her pocket in frustration, only to pull it out again to call her best friend, Fran. After she assured Fran she was okay and would call her back later, she returned the phone to her pocket.

As the minutes ticked by without another update from the airline or police, the passengers became increasingly restless. A woman sitting near CeCe pulled out a pack of cigarettes and matches.

A police officer pounced the second she lit the match. “Smoking is not allowed in the airport.”

“Then let me the hell outside,” the woman barked back.

The officer shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

The woman threw her pack of cigarettes onto the floor. “This is fucking bullshit.”

CeCe gave the woman a sympathetic look. She certainly didn’t condone smoking, under any conditions, but even she wouldn’t mind a stiff drink right now.

Finally, an hour later, one of the female police officers approached the ticket counter and picked up the microphone. “I am Officer Abbott. I appreciate everyone’s patience.”

“Like we have a choice,” the young man in white sweats muttered.

CeCe glared at him. “Have a little respect. It’s not like any of us wants to be in this predicament.”

The young man glared back at her but remained silent when the officer continued to speak.

“Two motor coaches are parked outside,” Officer Abbott explained. “They will take you to a nearby hotel where each of you will be questioned by police.”

“And then what?” an older gentleman asked. “My wife is waiting for me in Burlington.”

“Barring any more unforeseen issues,” the officer said, “Logan Airlines will transport you to Vermont in the morning.”

Although people grumbled, all the passengers dutifully followed the officers, who escorted them to two buses idling at the curb outside baggage claim.

The area around the buses was surrounded by police cars, their flashing red lights reflecting off the airport windows. Beyond them, a cluster of vans jockeyed for position near the arrivals area, their roofs topped with satellite dishes and their sides emblazoned with the news station call letters. As she had suspected, news of their passive hijacking—or whatever it was called—had begun to spread.

CeCe sat beside a petite woman with snow-white hair. The woman clutched a large cell phone in her trembling hand, her eyes glistening with tears. It was no surprise, considering everything they’d all endured. CeCe offered her a gentle smile and gave her knee a reassuring pat.

The woman held her phone out in front of CeCe. “Can you help me?” she asked softly. “My daughter gave me this ridiculous phone for Mother’s Day. I know how to answer calls, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to make one.”

“Of course,” CeCe said. She took the phone and navigated to the list of recent calls. “Let’s find your daughter. What’s her name?”

“Emily,” the woman replied, her voice shaky.

CeCe found Emily’s name and tapped it. “There we go. Just press this green button to call her,” she explained, handing the phone back.

The woman’s face softened as the phone began to ring. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ten minutes later, the bus pulled into the lot of a large Hilton hotel. As it maneuvered toward the front entrance, a piercing scream shattered the uneasy calm. A female passenger jumped to her feet and held her phone up in the air. “The plane crashed,” she cried.

“What plane?” a man asked.

CeCe tugged out her phone and tapped on the news app. A red banner at the top read:

Breaking News. Plane Crashes After Being Hijacked.

What the hell? She scrolled down farther.

Earlier today, Logan Airlines was targeted in what appears to be a ransomware attack. Instead of demanding a financial payment, the attackers ordered that Flight 4337, originally bound for Burlington, VT, be diverted to Harrisburg, PA. Once the plane landed, passengers and crew were allowed to disembark, although one man is believed to have remained on board. Moments after the passengers were escorted into the terminal, the aircraft, an Embraer-175 regional jet, took off again. Authorities later confirmed that the plane vanished from radar about thirty minutes later. It is suspected to have crashed in a remote area of the Adirondacks in Upstate New York. Rescue teams will be deployed to locate the wreckage.