colonel travis? travis studies him, remembering. he nods.
ramora.
it's been modified.  the pump's much stronger.  even without the mating collar there is an appropriate hatch on the 747 and the wide surface area of the aircraft should be sufficient for a link-up.  i'd have to say i have extreme confidence in its application, even under the less than optimum circumstances.
too much weight! never designed for this many -- never get off the ground! and we're running late. for every minute we're here, we have to make up ten in the air. got to go! travis turns to the men, pointing to the equipment.
no. three-dimensional chess. i don't do well with flying. have to keep distracted. the pilot's voice breaks in, heard over speakers in the cabin.
why all the guns?
once the tunnel is pressurized, i'll open the hatch to the 747. when you're inside, i'll go back up and lock it.
you don't understand. opening the final hatch is complicated, every phase critical. i can't just tell someone how to do it. unless i can ascertain that the seal is at the proper vacuum, you may not have any mission left to accomplish. travis considers this, grant carefully studying him.
but.
all right, but while the pressure locks are open, both planes are vulnerable to explosive decompression. move fast. this was designed to be carried out with both planes on automatic pilot.
an infra-red imaging device. the air flow of heated molecular particles, surrounding the plane. suddenly the plane pitches and rocks, encountering a pattern of turbulence as they enter the wake of the 747. moments later, as if through parting clouds, we see a channel appear, a clear spot underneath the belly of the plane.
there, the 'sweet-spot.' a valley of dead air, like the eye of a hurricane.
steady.  steady. you're right on it.  activated!
primary tunnel is pressurized and stable. i'm going up. travis motions to baker who moves up behind cahill, baker holding a stainless steel clip in his hand.
seal looks good. i'm equalizing the outer chamber. carefully he opens a bleed valve, a hiss of air as the final link is pressurized. cahill studies the gauges, consulting his watch. taking a deep breath, he gently opens the final hatch, swinging it down into the chamber.
i'm opening the hatch.
we're losing the seal! hurry! with a combined effort, charlie, rat and grant, pull the gear from the tunnel and onto the floor, as cahill stares into the tunnel, frozen, listening to the increas- ed volume of hissing. grant frees the last of the gear, seeing travis, fighting to climb up the ladder. grant extends his arm.
the plane depressurized. at this altitude,, the airframe would have collapsed, like an egg shell. they couldn't have.  the team is silent, stunned by the reality of their situation.
they don't know we're here. think we're all dead.
they're going to blow us out of the sky! cahill turns to them, panic filling his face.
we have to negotiate with them. tell them they know about their plot, they'll never let them reach the united states. it's our only chance. rat, assessing their situation, speaks up.
look at you. there's nothing left. you've got no chance. we're the only ones who know they aren't going to make it. they have to listen.  rat reaches out, grabbing cahill by the shirt, yanking him forward, nose to nose.
jesus. i don't know anything about bombs. i can't do it. why me? why not you?
yes, but what does that have.
but what if i.
uh, okay, i guess. we're ready to start. cappy. the meter indicates 15 oms.
we've isolated the pressure switch.
i don't know. looked like some kind of.  the lights flash again.
what?!
stop! stop the attack! stop the attack! as the terrorist starts to turn, rat pulls back inside, silently closing the door. he wipes the sweat from his face.
he said to stop. cappy. he said to stop you.
christ.
as if i had a chance.
here goes.  with trembling hands, he attaches another wire to a relay in the bomb, plugging the other end into the black box.
i can't do it. my hand's shaking too much. i can't breathe.
no.  i hate fish. hate the outdoors.
i did it. he turns, looking at cappy's face, reflected in the mirror. cappy nods, closing his eyes in relief.
what?! what's happening?! what the hell's happening?
jesus.
you're right. there's a wire.  hooked to a switch.
can't see anything.
but what if he did, cappy? what if he did expect us to get this far. why quit now? cappy smiles.
jesus.
that bad.
little more, little more.  light as a feather. come on up, leroy, you're all mine.  easy now. in closeup we see that cahill is almost to the points with the plastic strip.
this is cahill. the bomb's dismantled. we're safe. cahill moves alongside cappy, struggling to push the stretcher out of the container. gasping, he puts his arm across cappy's chest, grabbing his hand.
cappy, you did it, you did it.