This was never a contest, rather one-way traffic from start to finish as Molde’s ease of effort ensured they never broke sweat. He motioned to the empty metal chair on the opposite side of the table.Shamrock Rovers pitched up in Molde with a new approach, but finished the game lamenting the same old story. Sitting at the metal table in the middle of the room was the lead hijacker, Jack. A coffee machine and a row of charging walkie-talkies on a metal desk along one wall. It wasn’t a confessional, Conlan realized immediately. “That means you, hotshot.”Ĭonlan hesitated then he stepped across the marble entryway and into the room. “Next,” the hijacker at the door called in a bored voice. “Do what they say,” she advised in a whisper. She caught Conlan gaping at her as the guards led her past. Her blond hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat, and her glazed-over eyes looked as if she had just been forced to witness something grossly wrong. What growing up poor on the downtown streets of Detroit had failed to teach him, an extended stay at the Hanoi Hilton for most of ’69 had filled in pretty well.Ĭonlan steeled himself as the dark wood door finally opened and a woman, Marilyn Rubenstein, emerged from her “interview.” He saw that the young actress looked shaken as she came closer to him. FairlyĬonlan knew most over-the-hill rock legends like him were pretty soft. It seemed like the hijackers were trying to play off the gothic mood of the place, get people afraid, keep ’em off balance at all times. Sounded a little melodramatic if you asked him, more cheesy scare tactics like the masks and robes. Maybe that was the reason she’d been put here, Eugena thought.ĬHARLIE CONLAN waited on line for his “interview” in front of one of the purple-draped confessionals along the south walkway. She glanced at the golden, glowing rows of flickering candles. For better or worse, it had always been that way. No one had a better chance of success than she did. When was the last time a human being had said no to the spoiled-brat music star?Īs Eugena got in the queue behind the others, she decided that out of everyone in here, she was the one to speak to their captors. She almost felt sorry for the girl, but what good was it to antagonize these men? What did she think was going to happen? What was she thinking? She probably actually thought he would let her go, Eugena decided. As she came out into the aisle, she could hear Mercedes whimpering inside the confessional. Now!”Įugena stood and turned meekly around along with the rest of the hostages. We need to start an individual interview process, so I’m going to have to go ahead and ask everyone to line up in front of the first door to the right at the back of the chapel. Next, Jack tapped his foot in the silence. “Anybody else want to discuss their travel plans?” “Little hot shit for the hot shit,” he said to the wide-eyed hostages. He opened it, threw the girl in with force, then slammed it shut. Mercedes’s face looked like it was blistering as she screamed through the pepper spray.Īs she fell to her knees, Jack calmly dragged her across the marble center aisle by her hair, right to the door of a confessional on the north wall. He grabbed the singer by her hair and emptied it into her face. The hijacker immediately pulled out a spray canister from his pocket.
“Who you think you’re talkin’ to, shorty?” Then she snapped her fingers in the hijacker’s face.
“How about instead,” he said slowly, “you sit your slutty ass down.” Then he flicked them one after the other right into the girl’s face. The hijacker held up the earrings as if appraising them. What a sorry state this upside-down world had come to. Eugena thought about all the elocution books she’d gotten out of the library to get the sound of poor out of her voice. After booking her on the show a year ago, Eugena remembered reading in her bio that she’d been born in white-bread New Canaan, Connecticut. Let’s make a deal, sugar.”Įugena winced at the white girl’s attempted inner-city speak. They’re not enough, I’ll get my manager on the phone. My label arranged for me to sing ‘Ave Maria’ and jet. You know what I’m saying? I’m not political or religious, nothing like that. Now, I’m supposed to be on Leno tonight, and he tapes at six, LA time, and I’m already running late. “I paid, or whatever, a quarter of a million dollars for them. “These are Cartier,” she said in a loud whisper.
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