almost missed cappy. caught him in his driveway, pole in his hand, headed for the keys. travis looks across at cappy, 48, black, lean, chiseled, intelligent features, wearing in contrast to the others a black insulated jumpsuit, covered with dozens of pockets and pouches. on his head is a floppy fatigue hat, several trout flies in the brim.
what the hell is that?
the 747's transponder and radar is off, but the e2 now has a fix on them. our intercept should be about here, roughly an hour out of london. that gives us four hours on board before she reaches the hundred mile limit.
i can increase the saturation. it'll put 'em out instantly but it's pretty risky. we could lose someone before we cycle the gas out. travis looks at grant.
best i can do for now. i've got some morphine, take care of that pain.
there's a depression, a deformity of c-7.  he's got a fractured vertebrae. we've got to immobilize him.
now what? we've got no radio, half the equipment.
we should set up the probes, mikes. let the captain here have a listen. could be a dozen of them, we don't know.
not much. no radio, scanners, sleep agent, only half the weapons. we've got fiber optic probes and mikes, infra-red goggles, bomb kit. that's it.
unless a change in speed and course, we've got three hours and forty-eight minutes.
shit.
got one. first class cabin. w.z. 63 machine gun, grenade, and 9mm pistol. as he continues to watch, the terrorist from the cockpit, descends the staircase to talk. baker switches on a tiny bug mike and we faintly hear the conversation in arabic.
i'm in position. rear bathrooms. baker eases down into the room, taking up position at the door.
london?
four hundred passengers. never find him. we're as good as dead. a long moment as this new reality settles in.
wide angle probe, hard-line cable but no camera, monitor, relay.
this will do.
not much resolution, but it works. grant pats him on the shoulder.
she's on a short leash, but has the freedom to move around the cabin.  grant looks to rat for approval of his plan.
i've by-passed the buzzer.
she looks pretty shaken. i don't think she'll do it.
she's with us. lady's a player.
we reach u.s. airspace in forty- five minutes.
captain, take a look at this. grant studies the monitor as fran again brushes her ear.
captain.
what about the sleeper?