Chapter 812
Live Broadcast Connection
Chapter 812 Live Broadcast Connection
The not-disabled, "disabled" bandit trembled upon hearing this, suddenly regaining his senses and remembering his purpose. He glanced into economy class and said in a forceful tone:
"Listen, Captain, don't try anything funny! I'm in control of this plane now. If anyone attacks me, my crew will kill you all at 10,000 meters!"
The people he really wanted to threaten were the two-meter-tall man and the woman passing by, but he was afraid that if they were provoked, they would rush over recklessly.
After all, he was a thug who could brutally knock four people unconscious just for a piece of clothing that could be washed.
His frail body couldn't even withstand a single slap from them.
So the "disabled person" reiterated to the seemingly rational captain the weight he held in his hand, reminding everyone not to lay a hand on him.
The captain paused for a moment, then said calmly, "Yes, I already know that."
After a brief pause, he continued:
"Now that you have the life and death of everyone on this plane in your hands, could you please release that little girl first? I will listen to your request, and the same goes for the others."
The robber glanced at the flight attendant he had initially kidnapped. The girl was gripping his arm with both hands, her thin legs trembling uncontrollably, and tears were streaming down her face. She looked extremely pitiful.
Indeed, he hijacked the plane and kept such a person by his side, which not only hindered his actions but also made him appear insecure—as if he had no accomplices at all.
The robber released his grip, and the flight attendant stumbled and almost fell. Her colleague quickly pulled her away and took her to a corner away from the robber.
The flight attendant's neck had been cut with five or six shallow gashes by the sharp blade, and she was bleeding.
Seeing her extremely terrified expression, the bandit couldn't help but whisper, "I'm sorry."
The two flight attendants closest to the flight attendant heard this clearly and were both slightly taken aback.
Then, the robber grabbed the microphone with one hand: "I've released the person, now it's my demand!"
"Yes," the captain said gently. "Please go ahead."
"I want to be live on CNN! Connect me now!"
"I'm sorry," the captain said calmly, "there's no direct line to the TV station on board, but we have an in-flight satellite phone that can connect you to a ground number. Who do you need us to contact for you?"
"CNN, CNN!" the thug roared menacingly. "Get me connected to the media! I demand they broadcast this negotiation live globally! I want the world to hear my demands!"
The captain was silent for a moment, then his voice came through the receiver again: "Please wait, it will take time to connect..."
The bandits waited anxiously, slapping their thighs repeatedly, their bloodshot eyes scanning the cabin with a menacing gaze, trying to intimidate each hostage with their eyes.
The hostages, however, behaved very "well-behaved," and even the man and woman he feared most did not attempt to attack him. On the contrary, the two were "looting the corpse."
"Don't worry, we're not bad people!"
The two-meter-tall, muscular man lifted the unconscious man in the black jacket, his hands rummaging over his body, and said in a hearty tone:
"These guys were also thugs who wanted to blow up the plane. We happened to overhear them discussing their plan, so we stopped them."
As they spoke, the woman had already pulled out a porcelain knife and a fishing line from the woman with glasses. The two then found a dart gun disguised as a toy, a low-power detonator hastily assembled from ordinary electronic parts, and gasoline in a shampoo bottle, among other things.
The two-meter-tall, muscular man laughed and said to everyone, "Look how important it is to prohibit liquids from being brought on board! Airlines should also take action against this dangerous behavior!"
But none of the passengers laughed. As they watched the number of dangerous items the passengers pulled out increased, some of the more genuine passengers were practically going crazy.
Did this plane break some kind of divine law? How can so many people want to drag everyone down to hell?
"You two! Sit back down! Or do you want to take everyone down with you?" Seeing their increasingly casual movements, as if they were about to be forgotten, the "disabled" bandit mustered his courage and shouted!
"Okay, okay, I'll sit down now."
The woman raised her hand, slowly returned to her seat, and said, "After all, you wouldn't want to be blown to pieces for no reason, would you?"
"Shut up!"
The bandit roared.
The two-meter-tall strong man made a gesture as if he were zipping up his mouth, then sat down as well, stretching out his long arms and legs.
In the back of the cabin, a passenger wearing a hat frowned slightly as he looked at the towering figure of the burly man.
The operation failed... Fortunately, there were alternative plans.
But why do those two people's fighting movements look like they were trained at the base?
……
Seeing that the two exceptionally strong men had actually sat down, seemingly not intending to make a move in secret, Thomas O'Brien looked utterly desperate.
Recently, flights from New York to London have been extremely difficult to book. He had urgent business in London and finally managed to buy a ticket from a travel agency, but little did he expect it to be such a disastrous flight.
If I had known this would happen, I would have stayed in New York and driven a taxi... at least that way my life wouldn't be in danger.
Thomas Nick wanted to gag, jump up and scream, or just cry his heart out... Going crazy was better than watching his life become a bargaining chip for others, feeling like he was dancing on the edge of death every second.
But the other passengers around him remained unusually calm, which made Nick feel completely embarrassed to show his emotions.
He hated himself for caring about what others thought when he was about to die, but his buttocks were firmly stuck to the chair and he couldn't move.
After an unknown amount of time, Nick, who was covered in cold sweat, finally heard a faint hissing sound of electricity—
"This is CNN, Atlanta headquarters. I'm anchor Carey Clarkson, and we're going live."
"Sir, can you hear me?"
Upon hearing this voice from an authoritative media outlet, and comparing it to the voice of the anchor he remembered, a look of satisfaction and determination finally flashed in the bandit's eyes.
He took a deep breath, and his voice carried throughout the world:
“Hello, Kerry. I am… I am Quvin Martin… I am a father…”
“Hello, Quivan,” Kerry said immediately. “I’m listening—what do you want to say?”
Many passengers in the cabin were staring at him. Martin, the thug, met their gazes—a mixture of disgust, anger, curiosity, and fear—without flinching, and slowly said:
"I am very sorry for hijacking this plane and causing many people to have memories of fear; I am also very sorry for causing you and the airport a lot of trouble."
"I...I'm not a bad person. But please don't doubt my resolve. When I boarded this plane, I had already made up my mind..."
"If I can't achieve my goal, I'd rather drag everyone down to hell with me!"
He said it very calmly. But it was precisely because of that calmness that the person on the other end of the receiver almost immediately believed how firm his resolve was.
(End of this chapter)