Zodiac Killer: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (10 page)

Chapter 21

The Flight

The Zodiac knew he had to move swiftly. He exited the bathroom and walked toward his seat. A stewardess passed him in the aisle, and he grabbed her hand and pressed a note into her palm. Confused and startled, she unrolled the bit of paper and read it.
I have a bomb—tell the captain. And don’t try any funny business—I also have a gun.

The stewardess went pale and sank into the seat beside him, visibly trembling.

“Let me walk you to the front,” the Zodiac said softly, annoyed at her lack of discretion. “You look sick. Perhaps you should tell the captain you don’t feel well.”

They walked slowly down the aisle toward the door to the cockpit, which stood open; the pilots sat inside in front of rows of blinking buttons and flashing lights. The passengers paid no attention to the Zodiac and the stewardess as the two passed by.

The woman stood at the cockpit door and made a soft coughing noise.

“Janet, is everything all right?” the copilot asked.

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

They then noticed the man with the case.

“What do you want?” the captain asked the Zodiac.

The stewardess handed the captain the note and stood silently as he read it.

“I also want two hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills and three parachutes,” the Zodiac said. “So get on the radio and get things started, or I will start shooting passengers.”

“You’ll get off this plane with that money over my dead body,” said the captain.

“Don’t be so hasty to predict the future.” The Zodiac smiled. “Now, do as I say.”

The captain picked up the radio transmitter and started contacting Seattle. “This is Northwest Orient Airlines, Flight three oh five. We need immediate assistance.”

“Come in, Flight three oh five.”

“We are in the middle of a hijacking.”

“Say again.”

“We are being hijacked. This man demands two hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills and three parachutes. He says he has a gun and a bomb. If you do not comply, he will shoot the passengers.”

The man on the other end of the radio went to work. He called the FBI and made arrangements for the airlines to gather the money. The parachutes were no problem. It took about an hour, but finally the arrangements were made.

“How will you get the money if we land and the FBI swarms around this plane?” the pilot asked, his voice laced with anger. “You’ll never be able to escape.”

“Keep on course for Seattle and land as planned,” the Zodiac said. “I’ll give you further instructions then.”

It was a very tense flight for the pilots and Janet, though the passengers were still unaware of the danger they faced.

“Don’t take the plane to the gate,” the Zodiac said. “I’ll be letting the passengers off here on the runway, and I expect the money and the parachutes to be brought to the stairs. The crew must stay on. If I see any of you trying to leave, I will shoot you and two passengers for each of you who tries to escape.”

The plane landed without incident, taxied close to the airport, and then stopped as the Zodiac had told the pilot to do.

The Zodiac got on the radio. “Have someone set the money and parachutes at the foot of the stairs and walk away. I will send someone after them.”

It took about fifteen minutes, but finally the FBI brought out the parachutes and the money and walked back to the airport.

He had Janet open the door and told the two passengers sitting in the front row to go down and carry back the money and parachutes. By now, the other passengers knew something was wrong, and loud whispering swept through the cabin.

“No need for alarm,” the captain announced over the speaker. “Leave the plane in an orderly fashion. You’re all safe. You’ll all be fine.” The captain knew none of his crew would try to leave and put others in danger.

The Zodiac went down the length of the plane and shut all of the window shades, wary of letting the FBI know his location through the plane glass.

“How do you expect to walk off this tarmac without getting caught?” the copilot asked. “Your plan seems a foolish one, sir.”

“That’s the next step,” answered the Zodiac. “Give me the radio again. I’ll need a hopper plane full of gas driven up to the stairs,” he said into the device. “And I’ll be taking this stewardess as my shield and this pilot as my insurance, so if you shoot at me or try to trick me in any way, their blood is on your hands.”

It was a tense half hour until a small plane motored up beside the larger jet and angled close to the steps. The Zodiac could see a full contingent of FBI and SWAT officers a distance away and dressed in protective body armor—all were holding wicked-looking guns.

“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing toward the captain with the gun and pulling Janet to his side. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist and used her as a shield as he boarded the other plane. He used his free hand to keep the gun in the pilot’s back until he had settled into the front seat of the plane. “To Mexico,” he said.

“I don’t know if we have enough gas in this little plane to get that far,” the captain said nervously.

“Pray for a miracle then,” answered the Zodiac. “Because we’re not landing again on American soil.”

As the plane shuddered into the air—its metal sides buzzing in the wind—the Zodiac leaned back and patted the duffel bag beside him. It contained all that was important to him—his oil, his plant, his money. He buckled himself into the parachute and sat back to enjoy the ride.

The Zodiac watched as the landscape below slipped by, the lush greenery of Washington and then Oregon glowing a jeweled green. Night fell, and he knew he would have to estimate when they crossed the border.

“We’re running out of gas quickly,” the pilot said tersely. Janet had been crying gently for hours, and it was grating on his nerves. “They gave us this plane with very little gas. You have to let us land, or we’ll crash.”

“Land if you like,” answered the Zodiac. “I’ll take my chances. Dip lower; we’re too high.”

After the pilot complied, the Zodiac forced open the door and secured the duffel bag under his arm. He had decided anything in his carry-on could be replaced. Then he made sure his parachute was strapped tightly to his body and stepped out into oblivion.

Chapter 22

Where Is Cooper?

Holmes found the Zodiac’s apartment at the precise moment the Zodiac had jumped out of the plane. Holmes knew it was the right apartment even before he saw the note on the table.

Well, you have found me, my dear Sherlock. By the time you read this, there will probably be something on the news about me. In San Francisco, I was a man named D. B. Cooper by day, so you have finally found out the identity of the Zodiac. Though, of course, you knew my real identity all along…There will be no more murders here by him, so you can stop looking in California. But can you find me now? I am moving on, but you will be with me, I know. Pack your bags…

Holmes finished reading and got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The plane hijacking had been all over the news, and he was sure Cooper was the culprit.

“It seems quite a coincidence that Cooper should be the Zodiac and hijack a plane,” said Watson skeptically. “Are you sure the two events are connected?”

“It’s just a hunch,” Holmes admitted. “But you know I’m rarely wrong. I wish I knew what the monster has in mind!”

Holmes’s next stop was the police station, where he explained the situation to Detective Davis.

“I know it sounds mad,” Holmes admitted, “but I am sure this Cooper fellow is the Zodiac. He’s admitted as much in this note. I’m going to follow him into whatever wilderness he flees to, and I promise you I will find him.”

Detective Davis studied the note Holmes handed him for a moment. “We’ll put this in the file,” he said. “But with nothing else to go on and so many false confessions and tips coming in, we can’t publicize this as a definitive end to the case. I’m sure you understand.”

Holmes nodded. “Of course, and it would frighten the public more to know that the Zodiac could be anywhere in America, not to mention make the SFPD look less than competent for letting him escape. Though, of course, it was no fault of your own. I blame myself for not being as devoted to this case as I could have been. It has been a while since I found myself immersed in any sort of investigation.”

That night, Holmes and Watson watched the news with great attention, learning the facts of the hijacking and seeing the grainy footage of the SWAT team milling around the tarmac near the jet. They watched the small plane take off into the sky, carrying the Zodiac away. The pair barely even tasted Mrs. Merritt’s delicious honey-glazed ham—though it was one of Mrs. Merritt’s best dishes.

“How will you catch that madman if he’s already made it to Mexico?” Lydia asked. “He could be anywhere in that country.”

“I’m just glad he’s not anywhere near us,” said Mark, giving an involuntary shudder.

Holmes placed a reassuring hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you or take you again, Mark,” he said. “You don’t have to worry. The pilot will know the exact coordinates where the Zodiac jumped, and we’ll organize a search party within a radius of that area. The Zodiac is probably on foot, unless he manages to hitchhike, but at least he will stand out in Mexico more than he would in California.”

Holmes turned to his oldest and most trusted friend. “Do you feel like traveling, Watson?”

“Of course I do. I may not be physically able to trek through the underbrush with you, but I will be nearby, assisting in any way I can.”

“All right, dear friend. I want you to be safe, though.”

“I will.”

“Well, you need to go to bed now, and we will get up early and pack. Good night, old friend.”

They both went to bed and managed to sleep, though restlessly, until dawn. They packed hastily and left for the airport, where Detective Davis met them and briefed them on the coordinates of where the jump had taken place. It turned out the Zodiac had not gotten anywhere near Mexico. In fact, he had jumped out of the plane near Portland, Oregon.

It was a quick flight from San Francisco, and Watson and Holmes were soon in a cab heading toward the main Portland police station. Detective Davis had talked to the lead detective earlier to explain why they would be coming and what help they would need.

“I have already put together a search party for you, Dr. Greystone,” Detective Jones told Holmes as he handed the men two steaming cups of coffee. “If there is anything else needed, just ask. We are just as anxious to catch this man as you are.”

“Thank you very much,” Holmes told him. “I assume we’ll be tracking the hijacker into the wilderness. Please have your men gather any supplies we might need to ensure our hunt is a successful one.”

“I have already thought of that, and you are ready to go. We have also rented you a room at one of the area hotels in case the search extends beyond today.”

“Oh, thank you so much. Dr. Watson will not be with us all of the time. He will be much more comfortable in a room. When can I meet my team?”

“Right now. I knew you would be anxious to get started, and it looks like rain is coming. I will have someone take your bags to the hotel, and you can get started as soon as you want.”

Chapter 23

Finding Cooper

Watson decided to sit out the first day at the hotel and work on maps for the search party. As was often the case in Portland, a gentle rain misted down from the sky, and Watson knew he had no business tramping down slippery trails in pursuit of a much younger and more fit killer.

The Zodiac had parachuted down somewhere above Crater Lake National Park, and Holmes and the officers were determined to cover every inch of it if they had to. They set up camp in a clearing near a creek, pitching a few tents to protect their equipment from the rain and starting a fire for warmth.

The small camp was bustling with activity while Holmes himself sat in the middle, a still figure in the midst of chaos. He studied a map of the area and made small marks and notes that were meant only for his sharp mind. Eventually he called everyone together and split them into search parties.

“The man we’re hunting for is not just a hijacker,” Holmes said. “I also strongly believe he is the Zodiac killer.” Holmes then paused to let the startled whispers die down. “He’s going by the name D. B. Cooper now. He may be posing as a hiker but will likely have bulky bags and inappropriate clothing that set him apart from your average wilderness lover. Be careful and be thorough.”

The men started off on foot, with Jack Rose leading the search—he had been a guide in the forest in his youth and knew the land intimately. He would be an excellent resource on finding any out-of-the-way or secluded areas in which a fleeing criminal might hide.

It took them only a few hours to find the tattered remains of a hastily abandoned parachute, ripped and streaked with mud. Nearby they found a bundle of twenty-dollar bills caught in some underbrush; the Zodiac must have fled quickly from his landing site to leave any cash behind.

The rain had washed away any footprints the Zodiac might have left, however, and the officers were at a loss as to which way to go. Their best hope of catching him was the possibility that he had been hurt and would either leave a trail of blood or be so weakened by an injury that he gave up and allowed himself to be found.

“The madman is too close for us to let him slip away,” Holmes muttered to himself as he peered through the trees, which were shadowy in the dim light. “I can’t let him go again. I’d never be able to live with the guilt.”

Meanwhile, Cooper was burrowing deep in the woods. He had had a pretty rough landing, but he had survived. His arms were scraped and cut from the branches of trees as he fell to the ground, and a nasty wound marred his forehead. It had scabbed over, but he had still lost a lot of blood. He moved quickly after he could walk, and he tried to wipe away the blood from the area. He didn’t do a very good job, but he had no time to waste, and he hoped the rain would wash it away. He knew his first priority was to hide because the police would be looking.
If only that little plane had had enough fuel to take me to Mexico
, he thought. He wasn’t sure where he would go now. Making it to the border seemed impossible, but he considered Canada. He just couldn’t decide, and for the first time in years, he felt lost and afraid.

Cooper had walked about a mile when he found a small opening to a cave. He crawled inside and was surprised at how large it really was. He stored his bag in a corner, retrieved his knife from its case, and went outside to cut up some bushes and tree branches to cover the opening.
This will work nicely
, he thought. He settled in and realized he was very hungry. He had brought a few things from home and loaded up on some other things from the plane. He popped open a can of sardines and opened a pack of crackers. He got a bottle of water and started his feast. It tasted so good. He ate every bite of the measly meal, drank the water, and went about trying to check out his wounds.

The cut above his eye probably needed stitches, but the wounds on his arms were just superficial. He took some water and washed the cuts as well as he could. Then he tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped his head. He knew he needed to rest and get a feel for where the police were searching. He could then decide if he should move on or stay put until they passed his area. He hadn’t realized it would be this hard. He wondered if he should just let Holmes catch him. It had been a long run. He knew Holmes would never give up looking for him, and with the astralagus, the detective would never have to. Cooper had no idea what to do or where to go.

He took his daily dose of oil and arranged the duffel bag full of money under his head for a pillow. He spread his coat over his body to keep warm. It was so cold and rainy. He wished he could build a fire.
Maybe tomorrow
, he thought. He couldn’t risk the smoke.

He had to think. Sinking down into the bag, he reveled at how soft $200,000 could be.
Will I ever get away to spend it? What kind of life would I move on to now if I get free?
he wondered. Slowly he fell into a deep sleep.

Holmes got up bright and early before the rain started. He pulled on a rain slicker, and he and two other detectives started on their search. Each group was working in grids that Watson was establishing for them. The criminal couldn’t have gotten that far on foot. Holmes wondered if Cooper had his weapons on him. He guessed Cooper would, so they would have to keep their eyes open. Now that Cooper had all that money to make it more appealing to start a new life, Holmes knew he would fight desperately to avoid capture.

The police and Holmes traveled for about an hour into their first grid when suddenly there was a gunshot. Holmes’s head snapped around in the direction from which it came. The men kicked their horses and headed for the sound. Finally they stopped and waited to see if they heard anything else. They did not. They were not sure if it was from one of the search party or not. All they could do was hold their ground until they heard something else. They dismounted and stretched their legs. They knew they were getting closer, but to what, they did not know.

***

Cooper had awoken with a start. Something was moving in the shadows. He strained his eyes to see. His head hurt. It hurt to use his eyes, but he could not make out a form of a man. It had to be an animal. He must have taken over something’s home. He hoped it wasn’t a bear.

He had been in the cave two days now. He knew he had to get moving. Surely the police had already searched this area, but it was strange he hadn’t heard anything outside. His food was getting a little scarce, though he still had plenty of water. He heard a familiar sound.

He rose up just in time to see a huge snake slither out from behind a rock. It was headed straight for him! He scrambled to get his gun and took careful aim.
Bam!
It was so dark that he missed, and the snake crawled back behind the rock.

Damn it
, he thought.

He didn’t dare risk going over to the rock and trying to shoot the snake again. Someone had probably already heard the shot. He would sit tight awhile longer. He laid back, tried to get comfortable, and dozed off again. All of the sudden, something woke him up, something staring at him. There, between his legs, was the snake!

He didn’t know what to do. He reached for his gun and took aim—but not before the white fangs flashed, and the snake bit his calf. The pain was like white lightning. He shot and hit the snake right in the head. Blood spurted everywhere, and the snake’s body flew in pieces to the other side of the cave.

Cooper’s leg began to throb and grow hot. The two big puncture wounds were oozing blood and poison, and the leg would soon begin to swell. He didn’t know what kind of snake had just bitten him, but the pain was telling him it was deadly. He tried to squeeze out the poison with his fingers and the remainder of his shirt, but it hurt horribly, and he gave up.

Meanwhile, outside, Holmes had heard the second gunshot. He had ridden off on his own trying to find the source of the first shot, and this time, it seemed to come from right behind him. He dismounted and walked around on foot. He saw a strange pile of limbs and brush over a rocky outcropping and decided to investigate. He started pulling at the brush and uncovered an opening to a small cave. He took out his flashlight and looked inside.

What he saw thoroughly surprised him. There, propped up against the rock wall, was Cooper—the Zodiac, Jack himself. He had a look of shock on his face, and neither man said a word for what seemed like an eternity.

“Holmes, you have found me. Please, help me. I have been bitten by a snake,” Cooper said.

Holmes’s eyes flashed down Cooper’s body; his pant leg was pushed up to reveal two pinpricks on his ankle. They looked harmless, but Holmes knew that depending on what type of snake had bitten Cooper, he would need immediate medical attention.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” said Holmes. “I turned away from you once to protect myself and my friends. You promised to stop killing, and I expected you to live out your life in peace. Yet you betrayed me further by stealing the secret of my youth and went on to terrorize another city. You took innocent lives to fulfill your own sick needs. I would never willingly raise my hand to take a life, but I will sit back and watch the life ebb out of you.”

Cooper’s face, already pale, lost even more color as rage overtook him. “You’re no better than me, then.” He spat. “Justify letting me die however you like. Your inaction will cost me my life, and it will be on your hands.”

Holmes shook his head sadly. “The blood of everyone you’ve killed since those days in London is on my hands. Perhaps what you say is true, and I am about to become your murderer—it is something I can live with. Tell me, though—why did you continue on? What darkness dwells in you?”

Cooper felt himself becoming lightheaded, and his breath was coming faster. “You would never understand the thrill of it or the power,” he said. “Taking another life is as close as a man can come to being God. Please, Holmes, hand me the canteen from my bag. I need water.”

Holmes, not seeing any reason to deny even a dying murderer’s request for one last comfort, dug through the duffel bag, pushing aside the money, until he saw a small silver flask. He handed it to Cooper and watched the man drain its contents. He then threw it to the cave floor.

The two sat in silence—eyes locked—until finally Cooper’s breath slowed, and a small smile curled the corners of his lips.

When Holmes was sure the man had passed from this life, he left the cave and shot a flare up in the nearby clearing. He knew the other officers would arrive soon, and they would transport the body to the morgue for an autopsy and alert the media that the hijacker—and the Zodiac killer—had been captured. The people of San Francisco would be freed from the fear that had gripped the city for so long.

“As a young lad listening to the wisdom of the Count of Monte Cristo, I could never have believed I’d investigate a case that would ultimately take over a century to close,” Holmes said wryly to himself. “But it’s done at last. From the Ripper to the Zodiac, one less madman walks the streets among us.”