It was a bright, sunny May morning in Time Square, Andy Rayner sat on a bench, drinking a cup of coffee and eyeing the sport pages of his ‘USA Today’

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It was a bright, sunny May morning in Time Square, Andy Porter sat on a bench, drinking a cup of coffee and eyeing the sport pages of his ‘USA Today’. "Damn! Knicks lose again" he exclaimed. This, however, was the least of his problems.

Andy was a police officer for the New York City state police. For months, he and three colleagues had been trying to catch two Colombian drug dealers known publicly as the Havas brothers, Antonio and Salvadore. Suddenly, Andy got a call on his cellular phone. "Hello" he said casually.

"Where the hell are you?" asked his Head of department at the NYC police, John Rayner.

"I’m waiting for the bus, my flight’s been delayed until 12:00pm now."

"Well will you get your incompetent ass over to the airport pronto!" It was becoming clear to Andy that John was becoming very frustrated.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Asked Andy. "It’s not my fault"

"No", said John, "It never fucking is". With that, John hung up.

Andy cursed as he boarded the 3572 bus to New York airport, "Who the hell does he think he is?", he asked himself, "After all the things I’ve done for him, he still thinks I’m lazy. He hired me and he can fire me for God’s sake, it’s his god-damn problem." This blabbering continued until the bus rolled into the parking lot of the New York City airport. Just as he was leaving the bus, his Cell-phone rang again. "Hi, it’s me again", said the familiar voice of John Rayner. "Look I’m sorry about before, I’m just a little tense at the moment, however, I have some news for you. The Havas brothers are booked on the American Airlines 13:45 flight to Havana. I want you on that flight.", Andy was stunned.

"Havana! Cuba! Are you sure? Maybe it’s not them."

"No, I’m sure it’s them, I checked with the head of flight bookings. She said two dark skinned men in long trench-coats with Hispanic accents bought the tickets, now, there are only one-hundred and sixty seats on the flight. If you want to get one, you might have to hurry."

"Shit!" Exclaimed Andy, "Ok, I’ll go get a ticket now, I’m at the airport."

"Good. Hurry" Was the abrupt reply from John Rayner. He hung up

"I’d like one for the American Airlines flight departing to Havana at one…"

"I’m sorry sir, but if you mean the 13:45, it’s fully booked." Replied the woman at the check-in desk.

"WHAT?!" Andy couldn’t believe it "But when my err… friend called fifteen minutes ago, you told him that you had 1one-hundred and sixty seats available."

"Well… I’m sorry", she said, "But now we don’t have any." Andy could tell that something was wrong, nearly one-hundred and sixty seats taken in fifteen minutes? Something was definitely wrong.

"That’s what she said", Andy insisted, although he had tried to convince John. "No tickets left."

"Bullshit! How can nearly one-hundred and sixty plane tickets be sold in 15 minutes?" Asked John.

"No idea", said Andy.

"Something about this doesn’t feel right.." Said John, his voice now extremely tense. "We need you on that flight."

"And how do you expect me to do that?" Asked Andy sarcastically. "Do you want me to fly the plane or something?" There was a long pause from John,

"No", said John sternly, "Try and hide away in the hatch."

"What!" Exclaimed Andy, "Are you crazy, two guys got killed by doing that. And anyway, how do you expect me to get in to the hatch of the plane?"

"Think about it", said John, and with that he hung up.

Andy was flabbergasted. "The hatch! Me! He wants me to get in the hatch!" Andy then set about thinking how it would be possible to make it into the hatch without anyone seeing…

He couldn’t believe it! He was in the hatch! Somehow, Andy had managed to crawl through the baggage checking area, and get past the security guards on the other side. Then, just as the last bags were being loaded onto the aircraft, he jumped in and hid. Andy looked around. He could see three air ducts above him. "If I climbed onto the bags and hoisted myself up", he said, "I could easily get into either of those vents." Just as he finished that sentence, he felt the plane beginning to rumble. They were taking off!

As the plane began to build up speed along the runway, it occurred to Andy that he should try to grab hold of something to steady himself. It was too late. As the plane left the runway Andy was thrown back with immense speed and cannoned into the rear of the hold, shattering his right wrist in the process. It didn’t stop there either. Andy calculated that the flight was at least 4 hours long. He would either have to crawl through the vents or brave the Arctic-like conditions of the baggage hold for a further three and three-quarter hours. As it was already decidedly cold, Andy decided that the best option would be to leave the cramped, confined hold and to try and make an escape via one of the air-ducts. This however, was incredibly difficult because mainly of two reasons, the first being that the vent Andy was trying to get through was implanted in the ceiling. This meant that he had to hoist himself up into the vent and then try to get a foothold before he would inadvertently fall back onto the baggage stacked beneath. Doing this with a shattered wrist was not an enviable task to say the least. On the third try Andy managed to gain a foothold and finally began to climb the vent until he could see light at the end of the vent. As he began to get closer to the main cabin of the aircraft, he heard shouting. As he got nearer and nearer the shouting got louder and louder. When he finally managed to hoist himself up into the toilet of the aircraft he could here a voice shouting out, "Come on, hurry up we don’t have all fucking day."

"You heard what the man said, get your lazy asses into First Class now!" Then the shouting got quieter and quieter until no more could be heard. Then, came the gunfire. Andy immediately ducked and covered his head. This was the natural reaction for a police officer who regularly patrolled the ghetto’s of New York City. And, although the gun was clearly being fired at the other end of the craft, it could still be heard in the rear of the plane. Andy was trapped in the toilet, not with a padlock, not by a guard but by his own fear. He knew someone was out there, and although he did not know who, he knew it was bad. It was a full thirty minutes before Andy finally plucked up the courage to leave the cubicle. He drew his gun and slowly began to open the door. The tension clearly got to Andy, as he began to sweat and quiver. He began to squirm until he finally thrust the door open. As Andy stepped out of the cubicle and into the aisle of the plane, a look of sheer disbelief spread all over his face. "Holy shit!"

The scene of the plane was like that of a particularly gruesome horror film. Throughout the craft, bodies were strewn from corner to corner. Some were missing heads, arms or legs. The body of a steward no more than twenty years old was cowered over a row of seats with 14 gun-holes in his spine and blood seeping out of his mouth onto the seats in front. A young girl of about fifteen who’s personal stereo was still blaring music into her lifeless head had been shot through her seat. Her head had banged against her tray which was up at an angle and blood was pouring out of her back. Similar casualties could be seen around the aircraft. The one puzzling thing however was that at least three quarters of the seats had not been used at all. This was clear because the in-flight magazines were still lying on them. Andy figured that this was why all those tickets had been sold out so quickly. Whoever carried out this malicious act had obviously bought all the tickets that were available on the plane. Andy heard voices and immediately ducked behind the seat in front of him. "Are you sure they’re all out there?", said a voice with a Hispanic accent.

"Look, we checked everywhere, how the fuck could there be any more?", came the reply. Again, the accent was Hispanic. "Well we can’t take no chances. I’m more than happy to kill one more bastard who tries to get in the way of a Havas’ business " And with that, they turned and walked back into the first-class cabin

What the hell were the Havas brothers doing here, and why did they want to take over the plane? Andy decided he would do some investigating. He got up and began to creep slowly towards the entrance to first class. Again, the voices came. "I’m gonna go take one last look ok?", came one of the voices again. "Look, I told you, it’s clean", was the response. Andy, knowing he would have to act fast rushed to the front of the cabin and ducked behind a seat. He had barely got into position when a man in a trench-coat walked past Andy without seeing him. Andy, although he couldn’t see his face, he knew it was a Havas. Without thinking Andy drew his gun and shot the man in the back of the head. "Shit, came a call, that sounded bad, Antonio, I hope he’s dead". Andy was relieved, there was now only one Havas remaining. Andy, still crouching, gun poised, made his way into the first class cabin. He could see a similar mess to the one he had seen in the economy cabin. More bodies strewn around the first class area, most of them business-men or young men and women all lying in a bloody mess on the floor. Andy could also see another man in a similar trench-coat to the one he had already killed with his back to Andy standing in the Pilot’s cabin. The man turned and saw Andy.

Andy immediately recognised him as Salvadore Havas, the older of the two notorious brothers. "Well, well, well", he said, "If it isn’t the golden boy, Andy Porter. Still doing fuck all to help the New York City Police force are you?", he said in a smug manner.

"Well, unless killing your brother counts as nothing, then no, I’m doing nothing.", Said Andy in an even smugger manner. "You bastard!", was his reply, "Well, at least I can take comfort in knowing that he’s the only Havas who’s getting killed today." Remarked Antonio.

"I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I was you.", said Andy, and with that he drew his pistol. Antonio stopped. He was not showing any sign of fear at all. He simply turned around forty five degrees and immediately swung round and punched Andy right in the chin. Andy fell to the ground with a resounding thud. "Not so hot now are ya?", said Antonio. "Now who’s the laughing stock, eh Andy?", he said. He stood up, pulled a pistol and pointed it in Andy’s face. "See you in hell, bitch", he said. Andy however, thinking quickly, raised his knee into Antonio’s groin, and picked his Desert Eagle .44 up off the floor. "Save me a seat.", said Andy, pointed the gun to Antonio’s head and pulled the trigger. The rest, as they say, is history.

The pilot radioed New York airport and the plane was eventually allowed to land. As soon as it hit the runway, NYC Police and forensic scientists swarmed the plane taking photos and escorting Andy, the pilot and the co-pilot off the craft safely and took statements. Andy was given psychiatric help and was given full-paid leave for three months. When he did return however, he was even more hungry and determined to fight crime than when he left. Although he will never forget his terrible and traumatic experience, he will learn from it and there is no doubt that it will prepare him for other horrific experiences that will doubtless plague his career as a police officer.