After being meticulously repaired, the plane with no visible scars slowly reduced altitude until it touched the ground amidst trembling and began taxiing along the long runway, its speed decreasing steadily.
The large area surrounding the runway had been completely cleared, the black-and-yellow caution tape shaking violently in the wind, while numerous eyes remained fixed on the enormous metal bird.
The plane hadn't come to a full stop yet when the armed vehicles stationed at the airport roared to life like sharks sensing blood, racing out from all directions to form a tight circle.
They had learned from the live CNN broadcast that there had been a hijacking incident on the plane. At this moment, everyone was on high alert, the rotating police lights flashing a heart-pounding red and blue glow.
Almost simultaneously, another team dressed in black combat uniforms quickly formed a second perimeter, with well-equipped snipers positioned on the rooftops of high buildings.
Fire trucks and ambulances were arranged in a tight formation at the edge of the blockade, hoses strewn across the ground, while medical personnel stood by the vehicles, nervously watching the silent airplane.
The cabin doors remained closed for a long time.
In the broadcast, the hijackers, seemingly persuaded by the host Kerry, did not come out to surrender, and none of the passengers held hostage were released.
—After the feed was cut, what exactly happened on the plane? Did the hijackers change their minds and once again turn all the passengers into their hostages, intending to extort the governments of England and America?
The police officers clad in bulletproof vests held guns in their hands, their expressions grim, the atmosphere heavy as iron. Each second of waiting seemed to stretch indefinitely.
At this moment, another convoy arrived at the scene. The leading man appeared to be around fifty years old, tall and lean, with his gray-brown hair meticulously combed.
He displayed his credentials and then spoke in a low voice:
"London Metropolitan Police Counterterrorism Command, I am Cedon Stroud, and I will fully take over the command of the scene."
"Yes!"
The police handed over the command without hesitation, feeling an unspoken relief.
Stroud, without the slightest hesitation, used encrypted equipment to issue instructions to the control tower:
"Establish radio contact with the cockpit quickly. I need to speak directly with the pilot to confirm the internal situation, personnel safety, and potential threats."
"Yes."
The control tower communicator stared at the runway, wearing headphones as his voice transmitted through a dedicated channel into the cockpit:
"British Airways 294, this is London Tower, please report the situation onboard. Repeating, please report the situation onboard!"
The entire airport seemed to hold its breath; everyone was waiting.
...
"Vid…"
On the plane, Mr. Weasley looked at Vid.
"Don't rush." Vid put away the Friendship Book and said, "Wait a little longer."
...
On the other end of the radio waves, however, there was persistent silence.
Some people's foreheads began to bead with sweat, while others glanced at Commander Stroud.
Just as Stroud was preparing to issue another order, a deep engine roar suddenly came from outside the cordon, as several unmarked black sedans parked outside the blockade.
Car doors opened, and a group of people in black suits got out one after another. The leading man was particularly "eye-catching," because his head was shaved shiny bald, his skin very dark, but his shirt was so white it almost seemed to glow.
The most striking feature was a gold earring he wore, which seemed out of place in such a serious and solemn setting, yet harmonized with his aura as if it was a natural part of his body.
This group presented their credentials in the same manner as Stroud and then effortlessly passed through the layers of barricades, directly approaching Stroud.
"Hello, sir." The man's voice was deep, "I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, acting on urgent directives from the Cabinet Office. From this moment, we are taking full control of this incident. All personnel at the scene are to immediately hand over command and cooperate with our subsequent actions."
After confirming the other's identity, Stroud was about to hand over the scene's leadership when his eyes suddenly paused slightly.
He noticed a young woman with light gray hair behind this group, wearing an expression mixed with anxiety and eagerness, like a teenager accidentally intruding into the adult world, rather than a trained special department member.
A closer look revealed that there was something off about the others too—
For example, the short and solid man who intermittently pulled at his collar, looking clearly uncomfortable in his suit;
Another gentle-natured one had no problem with his appearance but lacked aggressiveness, involuntarily showing a hint of worry while looking at the plane;
And another bearded fellow whose eyes twinkled with a streetwise cunning and furtive demeanor, seeming more like a thief who accidentally got a high-end suit and sneaked in rather than a cabinet elite.
The commander's already tense nerves rang another alarm. He discreetly gestured to his subordinates to be vigilant, his palm subtly moving to the gun at his waist, while he spoke firmly:
"Sorry, Mr. Shacklebolt. Given the special circumstances, I must verify your identity and authorization again!"
"Certainly."
Kingsley showed no displeasure. He calmly displayed his credentials for verification and then handed over a document, calmly passing it over.
Lupin standing beside him noticed that the document's title boldly read—
"Memorandum for the Cooperation Plan Regarding the Sterilization and Immunization of Stray Cats in Specific Areas Within London."
His lips twitched slightly, almost unable to maintain his facial expression.
The commander's gaze momentarily flickered, his eyes lingering on the document for several seconds, even turning the pages to look through them. However, his pupils subtly dilated.
When he lifted his eyes again, the suspicion and sharpness had vanished, replaced by a somewhat dazed friendliness.
"Identity confirmed as valid."
He stepped aside to clear the way, issuing the directive, "All units, clear the passage and allow Shacklebolt's team to handle it first!"
"Thank you for your cooperation."
Kingsley nodded slightly, putting away the document without any excess expression, leading his personnel swiftly toward the silent plane.
The heavy boarding vehicle emitted a low drone, carrying Kingsley and the group of people in black slowly toward the plane.
Voices in the encircled crowd arose in confusion: "What are they going to do? The door isn't even open... surely they don't intend to stick outside the plane's windows to observe the situation?"
No sooner had the words been spoken than, as the boarding platform approached the plane, the previously tightly closed door smoothly opened!
The pitch-black door hole resembled a giant mouth waiting for prey to walk in.
The commander's pupils contracted minutely upon witnessing this; a vague sense of doubt arose again, only to be suppressed by an odd tranquility.
The agents from the Cabinet seemed to have no idea of how unusual this "opening of doors" was, proceeding without pause to enter and disappear into the entryway of the cabin.