It’s reasonably clear now that MH370 was hijacked, its transponder turned off, and made to fly somewhere we haven’t guessed. If it crashed, it may, like United 93, have done so way off-target, miles from where the search is presently occurring.
Uigurs, I think. The passport thieves were ‘Asiatic in appearance’, their faith Muslim, their quest suicidal, their plans hairy, like Arafat’s hijackings in the ’70s, the weather calm, the night late. They may have meant to land in Kazakhstan, display the hostages in a world telecast, and, threatening the Chinese, make their demands — the release, perhaps, of a gaoled leader, or a hundred imprisoned agitators awaiting execution.
It still may happen like that. Or it may have gone wrong.
Certainly, there was no explosion. And if the plane went into a dive there would have been a distress call, and at least one text-message from a fearful passenger, as on United 93.
A plane doesn’t just disappear. Ergo, it has landed. Or crashed somewhere else.
Give it two more days. And await, it you will, an amazing punchline.
Abdul Rahman said he ‘hasn’t ruled out a hijacking.’ Nor should we.
Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, Watson, must be the truth.