Manuscript 'How to steal $200,000, Or the Great Ransom-Hijacking' by 'Michael Cooper'

How to steal $200,000 Or the Great Ransom-Hijacking

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Call me Michael Cooper, the newspapers are. I always wanted to commit the perfect crime. Now I've got $200,000 tax free to prove it. That's a lot of bread even after a three-way split. I've been hatching this plot a long time--in fact ever since I got out of the Army. Returned to Portland, my home town. Couldn't find a job and I tried hard, real hard. But no one appreciated my ability. Now the whole world is appreciating my ability. There's no denying $200,000. Boarded this Boeing 727 November 24th at Portland. It was just what I wanted. Soon as I got on I handed this stewardess a note ordering her to stick close and if anything went wrong my briefcase would go off taking everyone with it. I had dynamite wired up in my case and I showed it to the broad to prove I was serious. Told her to tell the pilot to notify the airport in Seattle to have money ready when we arrived. And two sets of parachutes should be thrown in for good measure. I wasn't about to take chances. This was kind of a milk-run so chances were against an air-marshal being on board. This would be the first major heist in the Northwest ever. That Green Baret training in Viet Nam came in handy for something. I stayed in the back close to this stewardess. Don't think anybody really knew what was coming off, except the crew. And they were very efficient and cooled it. They knew enough not to spook me. I had long before decided that my life and that of a few others were well worth the risk for all that money. Besides before I had nothing to show for my life, now I do. I grant you money isn't all, just 99% and besides someday I can make another mint off my memoirs. Circling the area for two and a half hours, we finally settled down. They didn't fool me none. The old Northwest Airlines Inc. was probably recording the serial numbers, all 10,000 of them, because I wanted the money all in 20's. Maybe even a big outfit like that had trouble putting together $200,000 at that time of night. Once on the ground I allowed the 36 passengers and two stewardesses to disembark.

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b6 b7C [stamp:] SEARCHED___ INDEXED___ SERIALIZED [guess: MM] FILED___ [guess: disembark] [guess: 03] 1971 FBI - SEATTLE

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Ordered to the plane to refuel and prepare for immediate take-off on schedule to Reno. There were official-looking gents all over the place, alot of them FBI men. I imagine. Finally, this courier type guy boarded the plane and gave the small white pouch to the stewardess that I allowed to remain to be the interpreter. Oh, and last but not least the chutes. The dough seemed in order; it only weighed about 20 lbs.

We took off about 7:30. Right on schedule, my schedule. This is where the timing came in. Made the stewardess enter the captain's cockpit. Can you imagine, that fancy dame, when I first handed her the note and declared myself, actually thought I wanted a piece of her instead of the action. She got so she treated me with a little more respect, or should I say, fear. That's the way a man should treat a woman, under him. You give them much quarter and they'll stomp on you.

Well, back to that night. I got what little crew was left, four to be exact, up front. Oh, the instructions given to the crew upon taking off were to leave the flaps down at 15°, unlatch the passenger door, to level off at 7,000 ' and to not exceed 95 knots. They were also told the lattitude-longitude course to take. I had everything [guess: th]ought out, needless to say. I've been around planes before and I've made drops before, plenty of them and not just in Viet Nam. Was a smoke fighter once. And I knew the drop-out area like the palm of my hand. For several weeks I practiced preci- sion dropping at the Orchards Chute Landing Area in SW Washington. And for all you'll ever know I might have had kin or somebody in the area, might I not?

Well, back to the story because this is where the action got fierce. Figured I had 30 to 45 minutes before make the drop. Lots to do. Taking my hunting knife out I slashed up a secondary chute and strapped the money around my waist. Put my long flashlight and K rations about my person. Oh, and I had a 38 revolver which I never had to flash. And then the big job. To check out the main chute. That was awkward but I had been practicing that too trying to cut down my time. I had to rush that a little but that's the chances you take. Defused the dynamite, opened the door and tossed it out. Repacked the main chute, strapped it on my back, put the reserve chute on my chest which I learned afterwards had been sewn shut. That's a laugh. They must

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take me for a complet idiot. Why the hell do you think I ordered two sets of chutes. I didn't take many chances, not many it all.

It wasn't a bad night for a drop--overcast but I would bail clear of that. Checking my time, I cleared the altitude and speed with the captain over the com- line. Everything was about right even though I missed the airport bean at Kalama because of poor visibility. I had to clear Lake Morwin. Clearing the clouds, I floated down. Heard later there were three military trail planes but they couldn't see me through the soup. I tugged and jerked the lines just right. Hit in a field. Thank God I didn't get hung up in a tree. Concealed both chutes. Then checked my reading. I know pretty well where I was but confirmed it with my compass and county map. I just had 5 to 10 miles to go to get to my car. Reached it by early morning. Let me tell you that man cannot live by broad alone or by K rations for that matter. Heard later when they made a skidding, sparks-flying stop at Reno that they set dogs lose trying to spot me in the hangors and adjoining homes. Yes, they must have taken me for a fool. But I had it all planned out, all planned out. They underesti- mated me all the way. I dropped short of where they said I did. And by the time they find any traces of me, if they ever do, I'll be long gone. Might have holed up in Portland or Seattle or lit straight out for Canada. Odds are they'll never find me. Not if they're looking for a 40ish, Latin type man in a dark suit with sun glasses. Besides knowing alot of other things what's to stop me from being an expert at disguise!?! Nothing, I tell you.

Well, I could go on more but I've got things to do. Think I deserve a little rest and you can bet your stars it's going to be in style. Oh, don't believe that malarky at the start of my story about there being accomplices. Do you think I'd be crazy enough to deal anybody in on this, especially a blabby, spineless female. And if I found one I cared enough for to deal in, I wouldn't expose her to the risk. But from now on I won't have my trouble finding companionship if and when I ever need it. Yes, I'm a loner from the word go and that's the way I like it.

Right now I'm laying low. Don't even care if the magazine pays me for this

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article to show you how big hearted I am. Or maybe I made its printing conditional to a bank deposit in Switzerland. Who know's? Except me and I'm not telling until it's to my advantage. You can bet your damn britches on that. And if I have any good word for you, dear reader, it is to take heart and never give up for almost anyone with a little imagination and initiative and guts can find a silver lining. And then sit back and muse and laugh at the authorities as they muddle their way along. So good luck, God bless and may the winner take all.

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