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half-blinded eyes, he caught a glimpse of gaily patterned cloth - the same pattern as the dress old Martha was wearing. But she had become amazingly spry as she pushed him aside and dived for an object on the floor. The grenade!
    Frank lunged over her, blindly kicking out with his foot. His toe hit something solid, sending the grenade skittering along the floor.
    The woman whirled on Frank, hissing something in a language he couldn't understand. She fumbled for a second with the large pin on her blouse. Frank squinted. No, it was too long to be a pin. It was more like the blade of a stiletto.
    She slashed at Frank, who drew back and stumbled into the Gray Man, who'd also risen from his seat.
    Before Frank and the Gray Man could disentangle themselves, the female terrorist had rushed down the aisle and grabbed the stewardess, who was trying to pick up the grenade.
    The stewardess had been on her knees. The terrorist grabbed her by the hair and held the knife to her throat. "Nobody moves," the terrorist said, a smirk on her face, "or this one dies." She looked down at the grenade in the stewardess's hand. "Hand that up slowly. And do nothing foolish. "
    Frank stood frozen. Once the grenade was in the woman's hands, they'd all be dead.
    "Wait a second." The voice came from behind him. "I'm an American official. If you want a hostage, I volunteer. Let the stewardess go." It was the Gray Man. He held his hands out to show that they were empty and pushed past Frank, masking him.
    The female hijacker hesitated, stepping forward slightly, glancing at the distraction. Frank realized he'd never have a better chance. He launched a flying kick, past the Gray Man's side, past the stewardess's ear-right to the pit of the female terrorist's stomach.
    The woman folded in the middle. At the same time, the Gray Man swept his arm out, pushing the stewardess away. Then Frank lashed his foot out again in a high kick. It connected with the female terrorist, and she flew down the aisle, landing flat on her back, the knife flashing just inches from the stewardess's face.
    The Gray Man moved fast. One foot landed on the blade of the knife; the other kicked the woman's hand away.
    Joe Hardy was hauling the unconscious male terrorist out of the seat where they'd fallen. The man hung limply in Joe's arms. The dangerous spray can rolled into the aisle. Frank stood blinking, still trying to work the chemical out of his eyes.
    The Gray Man ripped off his tie and knelt by the stunned female hijacker, binding her hands. Suddenly he let go with one hand and reached for her jaw, but she twisted her head away. He grabbed her again, wedging her mouth open, "Too late!" he said, frustrated.
    The woman's breathing became labored. Her body began jerking uncontrollably in convulsions. By the time Frank and Joe had rushed over, the woman had fallen back, suddenly still, her lips already turning blue.
    A new scent filled the air. It was the smell of almonds, bitter almonds. "A cyanide capsule," the Gray Man exclaimed. "She's poisoned herself!”

Chapter 8
    A SHOCKED SILENCE hung over the plane for the rest of the trip across the Atlantic. The loudest things Frank and Joe heard were nervous murmurs among the passengers. Some wanted to return to the airport, but the Gray Man vetoed that, virtually commandeering the plane with his government authority.
    The grenade had been locked away, and crew members gently removed the female terrorist from the cabin. The male hijacker sat in the first seat again, tied up and gagged. The Gray Man had checked out his mouth and carefully removed the cyanide capsule that was hidden in a false tooth.
    After that, the Gray Man spent most of the flight up in the cockpit. He emerged only after the plane landed. "Come on." He beckoned to the Hardys. Stepping into the cockpit, Frank and Joe found the plane doors open, a ladder reaching up to them.
    "You know, I expected better accommodations at Heathrow," Frank said.
    "This doesn't look like