The el Al flight was taxiing. Six on the manifest had plans other than reaching their destination safe. They were not Paris bound, as were the others on the aircraft. Clean shaven, neat and dapper. Each one of them a yuppy look-alike. Smart young upwardly mobile men off for higher education or business. Inwardly each smiled to himself. The first hurdle, the toughest had been breached. Despite every precaution, every check, every goddamned Mossad plan – the six had walked through, hardly raising an eyebrow. It was the most audacious, and daring and brazen of stratagems. To beat the system, start at the bottom. That’s what their trainers in the Pak – Afghan high mountain hideout cam has stressed.

The best of inventions and discoveries in science had been the simplest ones. Archimedes in is bath, Crick in his sleep, Newton in a reverie under a tree –  Columbus sailing west to discover East and India – all accidents, all chance, all lucky breaks – and all simple. That’s the key. It leaks most at the barrel bottom. Yea, they had chorused, AK 47s raised ‘God is great’ – the jehad was on.

The Al Qaida think tanks had sat long and hard – the consensus was clear – nothing, no act of terror captures the world’s imagination like one done on air. Hijacking drew attention to their cause. The media goes gaga over mid air acrobatics. Blow a hundred train loads of passengers, wimp, the story is fleeting – kidnap and behead a couple of journos, the newspapers tire soon – but jack and flying jalopy, and wow – the world sits up: Moumar Moosa, was genius. His brainchild, this El al takeover was. So neat, so precise, so perfect – God, one couldn’t suppress a laugh at how ridiculously easy it had been – just walking through security at Ben Gurion.

Happy trip sir, the frisker had said as he waved them on. Safe journey sir, the luggage ramp radiographer had nodded as he wheeled them off. Thanks for choosing el Al sir, the ticketing clerk had smiled – and bon voyage, the chief stewardess had beamed as they eased themselves into their seats on this capacity flight.

Twenty minutes later, Rashid took his cell mobile phone out of his pocket; he confirmed it had been switched off. Two minutes later, Anwar walked past him towards the rear end toilet, he gently dropped another mobile along with an Arabic magazine into Rashid’s lap.

Rashid looked at the two handsets with him now. This was it, he said. God help me.  He slid the first mobile sideways onto the top of the second along a longitudinal groove on it. He heard a click, the two instruments were locked home now. The two phones levered into position resembled an alphabet, L .  He pressed a few buttons on one, and eased the bottom edge of the other: it slid open. He ran his fingers over the instrument. Perfect. Ingenious. Incredible!!!! Moosa…you are something.

He ran his index digit along the inner length of the short limb of the L. His finger pulp felt it – a centimeter long remote button.

The smart el Al hostess paused beside him – he reached for the glass of cider on the tray – and just as she leaned over to offer the same to his co-passenger, he pressed the L into her left ribs – don’t move, don’t scream, don’t panic –I have a gun. This is a hijack just do as I say. Her blue eyes widened and froze. This man was armed with a lethal weapon. His steel grey eyes showed no emotion, she knew it instinctively and instantly, this was the end of the road, and she and her plane was facing the open end of a barrel.

In eight minutes, the aircraft was under control of the six hijackers. The six mobiles they had carried in the shirt pockets or hands as they strutted past security, reassembled, had created three absolutely marvelous firearms.

Two hundred and forty miles east of New York, an American airliner had been blown up in the sky. British Airways reports loss of contact with three of their London departures – the story is all over, SAS, Alitalia, Qantas, Swissair…….. a total of seventeen passenger aircraft, had been lost midair.

Massive grounding of all airlines – panic, alerts, raids, investigations. Nothing was ever found – no one ever figured it – how could so many armed men have boarded planes from the airports with highest systems of security?

The radio crackled in the morning’s misty cold haze up a hillside cavern in Pak - Afghanistan. A roar goes up in the camp – joyous cries rend the chill air, and cracks from sky pointed AK 47s punctuate and echo across the Pakistani ranges. Moosa kneels towards the west – and thanks God….