Turbulence

by Nance, John J. ;

  “Okay.”

  “I have no idea, of course, what kind of crew they had out of London. They could have been completely different from the rotten group we flew in with. Well, one flight attendant wasn’t rotten, but she was the exception. Look … I’ve got the number here of the London station manager. I think it’s his cell phone.” David could hear her shuffling things around in search of the number. “He called last evening,” she continued, “and profusely apologized, then sent over wine and flowers and did a great job of trying to make amends for his airline. But, frankly, I think they’re hopeless. Here it is.”

  David wrote down the number as she read it.

  “Thanks a lot, Senator.”

  “One more thing,” she said. “Would you call me back after you talk to him? I’m both awake and very concerned now.”

  He promised to do so and hung up, dialing James Haverston’s number immediately. The station manager answered in a crisp, wide-awake voice, startling David.

  “Yes, we had a long delay out of London, but that’s all I can tell you. I know of no specific anger incident on the outbound flight. Who are you, again?”

  “Colonel David Byrd, U.S. Air Force.”

  “Look, Colonel, I’m sure you are who you say you are, but I have a company to protect from clever reporters. Do you have a phone number I could call back that might settle my worries?”

  “Stand by.”

  He got up and moved into George Zoffel’s outer office and to Ginger’s desk to get a main NRO switchboard number and their extension, then returned to pass it on to Haverston.

  Ginger appeared in the doorway as he waited for the incoming call.

  “Mr. Zoffel says to tell you they’ve passed the Libyan threat and are headed for the Mediterranean.”

  “Thanks,” he said, giving her a fleeting smile and indulging himself in the act of noticing that John Blaylock was right. She was a lovely woman.

  The phone rang and Ginger moved to answer it, turning to David once more and indicating the line number by the number of fingers she held high.

  “Colonel? James Haverston here. I’m now appropriately satisfied that you’re not a reporter, but I’m not sure I can help you.”

  “Can you tell me anything more?” David asked.

  James Haverston related the presence of the English Petroleum Corporation’s chairman. “I’m sure that will all be a matter of public record very soon, but I have no idea whether it means anything. You did ask, however, whether the captain’s message could be valid.”

  “Have you seen a copy of that message?”

  “I’m heading to the airport to meet a covey of camera crews, Colonel, and I’ve had the message read to me at least twice.”

  “So, could it be valid? Could there be a major incident of enraged passengers on that flight?”

  “I don’t know. Other than what I told you about Mr. MacNaughton.” There was a long hesitation on the other end. “Of course, my personal opinion is that anytime a big airliner stuffed full of passengers has two delays in one day …”

  “Two?”

  He related the diversion on the ground in London. “I know nothing of what the crew said to the passengers or what the attitude was in the passenger cabin, but the maintenance problem was solved in little more than two hours.

  “Look, Mr. Haverston, this is very, very important, and you’re going to need to take a leap of faith here if you know anything else. I simply can’t reveal why I’m asking, but if I could, I know you’d immediately bend heaven and earth to get me what I need. If we can’t show that the message from Flight Six is logical and reasonable and that a passenger uprising is more likely on that particular flight than not, every life on board may be lost.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I can’t tell you more, but you can imagine these days, the government of Great Britain and those of most of the E.U. nations as well as the U.S. get very excited when a big airplane starts heading to a major capital without communicating.”

  “I’m not understanding this, Colonel. What are you asking?”

  “I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Mr. Haverston, and it could be fatal to your passengers and crew. Please. What else?”

  David could hear the phone being transferred to the other hand. Haverston cleared his throat.

  “I’m parking at my office now, and there’s a note inside I need to see.”

  “Tell me why.”

  The sound of a car door being slammed echoed in the background followed by footsteps and the jangling of keys.

  “In that message there was the name of a passenger whom the captain points to as having hurt the copilot.”

  “Yes. The name is Logan.”

  “Quite.”

  David could hear the sounds of a door being unlocked. “There was an angry American physician yesterday going on this flight, you see. I need to check the name as I wrote it down to make sure it isn’t the same man.”

  “Logan, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “You had a problem with him?”

  James Haverston summarized the report in Meridian’s computer about the death of the man’s wife and child. “It was a most unpleasant encounter, but we … I … judged him to be no threat and allowed him to board. I’m at my desk now. Wait a flash.”

  David could hear papers shuffling, then silence.

  “Mr. Haverston?”

  More silence.

  “Sir?”

  “Well, dammit all.”

  “Say again?”

  “I can’t find the bloody thing. I thought I’d left it here.”

  “And, you don’t recall the name for certain?”

  “No. I’m sure the name is different, but, look, Colonel. I’ll call you back if I can find it.”

  “Please! The second you locate it, if the name is the same, call me on my cell phone.” He passed on the number and replaced the receiver, sitting in rapid thought. I can’t do this alone!

  He swept past Ginger and headed for the hallway, barely aware that she had bolted from her desk to chase after him.

  “Colonel? I’ll have to let you back in.”

  “Oh.” David fell in step behind her, trying to keep his eyes off her figure as she flowed down the corridor, worked the cipher lock, and threw her lithe body into the job of moving the heavy door inward.

  “Thanks, Ginger,” he said, feeling a flash of warmth in her smile as he moved inside and took the same seat and slipped the headset on again.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “He’s coming up on the coastline,” Blaylock reported, summarizing on the private channel the encounter with the fighters and the sudden turn. “He knows exactly what he’s doing, David. That pilot may well be Libyan, and those MiGs may have been a protective escort. If so, they locked him up with their missiles just to make it look good.”

  David was chewing his lower lip as he looked at the various screens.

  “How long?”

  “The Enterprise is launching her Tomcats now. The plan is to intercept, try to establish radio contact, and failing that, try to turn him back to North Africa. There’s a remote airfield well south of Algiers that the Algerians are saying we can use. But if whoever’s in that cockpit won’t talk or turn, he’s going to die rather quickly. The rules of engagement have already been passed to the F-14s.”

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  IN FLIGHT,

  ABOARD MERIDIAN FLIGHT SIX

  12:18 A.M. Local

  Jimmy Roberts stood in the aisle after telling Brenda to stay put. He moved rapidly past the forward galley and into first class, not caring whether he should be there or not. He hated putting himself in places where someone might make him feel inadequate or unwelcome, like a skunk at a garden party. Usually he avoided such places like the plague, but this was different. He and Brenda and everyone aboard were being accused of a crime, and it scared him.

  The huge seats in first class were intimidating,
but he forced himself to move into the cabin, searching the faces of the passengers until he spotted the doctor who’d been the ringleader of the revolt they were talking about on the news. He was leaning over a pair of seats on the right side and looking out the window into the blackness as another man he recognized from coach was doing the same thing in the row behind, talking with the woman who’d identified herself as the new lead flight attendant, Janie.

  “Doc? Excuse me,” Jimmy said, stuffing both hands in the his slacks.

  The doctor didn’t look like such a giant up close, Jimmy thought. He’d loomed large earlier when he was tearing around the cabin with the bullhorn.

  The doctor pulled back from the window and looked around, his eyes weary and his face almost pasty. He straightened up, looking Jimmy in the eye.

  “Yes?”

  “Ah, look, my name’s Jimmy Roberts and I’m from coach back there, and my wife and I just picked up a news broadcast from CNN, and the announcer was talking about this flight and saying that all the passengers were hijackers, and I’m … well, we’re not, and I need to know, what … in hell is going on here.”

  “‘Hijackers’?” Brian Logan repeated.

  “Yeah.” Jimmy repeated the words the announcer had spoken as well as he could recall. The other man who’d been looking out the window and the lead flight attendant had heard him, too, and were moving closer.

  “What’s scaring my wife and me,” Jimmy continued, “is that they’re saying we’re all going to be arrested and charged with piracy. I don’t know about you folks, but we haven’t done anything back there. We’re just on a trip we won and trying to mind our own business.”

  Robert MacNaughton pulled himself out of his seat and offered his hand to Jimmy as he introduced himself.

  “Glad to meet you, Mr. MacNaughton,” Jimmy said, shaking MacNaughton’s hand.

  “Don’t you worry about such nonsense, Mr. Roberts,” Robert said. “The only activities here that border on criminality are those of the pilot, not Doctor Logan or myself. There … may well be some sorting out to do with the police when we arrive, but I can assure you no one’s going to be filing charges against you or your wife.”

  “But why would they say that?” Jimmy replied, looking Robert MacNaughton in the eye. “I mean, I heard what you fellows said on the PA. You especially, Doc. I think you said we were taking over.”

  “Just …,” Robert interrupted, his hand raised, “just taking over in terms of telling this captain that he was required to continue on to his destination. That’s certainly not like … like …” Robert hesitated as he went back over the events of the previous hour from a legal point of view, the reexamination bringing him to an embarrassing halt.

  “Look,” Brian Logan added, “you can’t hijack an airplane to its original destination. That’s ridiculous. The captain has obviously been broadcasting these allegations on the radio with none of us around to counter him, but it’s all B.S.”

  “I hope so,” Jimmy added. “We’re not, you know, experienced fliers or anything. My wife and I.”

  Brian nodded, but he wasn’t really paying attention to Jimmy’s last remark. His attention was focused instead on Robert MacNaughton, who had fallen silent and was scratching his chin.

  “Mr. Roberts, is it?” Janie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Let me go back with you and reassure your wife, too,” she said.

  “I’d appreciate that,” Jimmy replied, letting Janie guide him back through the curtains toward coach as Brian turned to the E.P. chairman.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “From the mouths of babes, or shall we say, the innocent, come painful truths.”

  Brian held on to the seat back and studied the older man. “What do you mean?”

  Robert MacNaughton sighed and eased himself down in the seat, folding his hands neatly over his stomach as he looked up at Brian and shook his head. “I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid our friend there may be right, Doctor. You and I have attempted to seize control of this airliner, and without regard to the reason, that quite literally meets the threshold definition of air piracy, regardless of what we demanded the captain do.”

  “No! Bullshit!”

  “I’m not a solicitor, of course, but I deal with legal matters all the time, and I’m afraid it does. Now, that doesn’t mean anyone’s going to file charges, but …”

  “But what?”

  “Well, considering the fact that you counseled restraint a while ago and it was I at the time who wanted to bash down the cockpit door, I’d say we both should just stand down and hope the fool up top gets us back to London in one piece. We can deal with the police there.”

  “Police?”

  Robert cocked his head as he studied Brian’s face. “How … did you think this would end, Doctor? I’ll admit, I didn’t think, other than to react like a bellicose commander. I rather imagined we’d be turning the pilot over to the authorities at the gate, but now I’m more than a bit concerned that he may well reverse the sequence.”

  “You’re … not seriously suggesting that I’ve … or we … or anyone’s committed a crime?”

  “Doctor, forgive me, but that is precisely what I’m suggesting.”

  In the cockpit, Judy Jackson awoke with a small start, remembering where she was … and why. She looked around carefully, but no one else had entered the flight deck while she’d been asleep. It was just she and the captain, now, against the rest of the passengers, and the crew as well. Janie Bretsen had seen to that.

  Judy could almost feel the empty copilot’s seat mocking her, reminding her that the nightmare was still under way. Angry passengers, a strange landing in the middle of a gun battle, and the most embarrassing moments of her career all merged together in a frightening mélange.

  Apparently, whatever mob had been outside the door had given up. Despite what she’d told the captain about fearing for her life, the mob that chased her to the cockpit scared her less than the embarrassment of her own cowardly disappearance.

  She felt her face flush again at the memory, and especially the utter void in her head where she’d always had the appropriate, immediate, and self-justifying excuse for any mistake she made. There were no excuses this time, and she couldn’t even explain it to herself. It was as if Judy the flight attendant had been a fragile construct of brittle glass, and now, in the face of such rage and hate, the fragile creature she’d been was shattered.

  She sat up in the jump seat and reached out to tap the captain on the right shoulder. He turned to look at her through his peripheral vision.

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry,” she said, wondering why she led with an apology, yet knowing why. “Where are we? I don’t know how long I was out.”

  “Just coming up on the coast of North Africa. We’ve got less than three hours to London now.”

  “What are we going to do, Captain?” she asked. “When we get to London, I mean?”

  “They’ll arrest everyone in the cabin, I expect, and we’ll have to go file our statements.”

  Judy exhaled sharply, trying to imagine the magnitude of such an arrest.

  “We’ve got over three hundred passengers. They can arrest all of them?”

  Phil Knight shrugged. “All I know is what Logan kept saying, that he represents everyone, and they chased you upstairs, and we know some of them were trying to get through the door. So I’d say, yes, three hundred or more arrests.”

  “Not everyone was involved, you know.”

  “They’ll have to sort that out. Logan, at least, will be facing the death penalty for hijacking.”

  “I don’t know the law …,” she began, letting her thoughts trail off.

  “They’ll be depending on you to testify about what you saw between Logan and Garth Abbott.”

  “Testify?”

  “You said you were sure of what you saw, that he was clubbing Abbott in the electronics bay.”

  “Yes.”

  �
�You’re absolutely sure it was Abbott, and not someone else trying to get in?”

  “Yes.”

  Phil turned further around to try to see her eyes, dissatisfied with the monosyllabic responses.

  “Judy?”

  “Yes!” she repeated, a defensive tone in her voice.

  “Did you know that Logan told me on the interphone a while ago that he was clubbing soldiers, and that Abbott had already fallen off at that point? You know you’re the only witness to what happened?”

  “I know what I saw.”

  He hesitated, his eyes on hers and aware she had looked away to the left, out the window.

  “You know I’ve trusted that. I told the company, and God knows who else knows about it now. I didn’t say, ‘Judy told me,’ I just stated it as a fact.”

  He heard the sound of a seat belt being snapped open as Judy catapulted herself out of the jump seat to stand just in front of the door. Phil could see that her whole body was trembling, but her jaw was set and her eyes aflame as she stared at him.

  “Dammit! DAMMIT! I TOLD you what I saw. You stupid fool, why are you browbeating me?”

  “I’m not, Judy, I …”

  “That son of bitch is not going to get away with this!”

  “You mean, challenging you?”

  “Yes! No. No, I mean … with changing his story, or … or what I saw. I know what I saw! He killed the copilot.”

  “All right, all right. Calm down, now. Sit back down.”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” she said, turning to look through the cockpit door peephole, then back at him. “Will you let me back in?”

  “Yes. The usual procedure.” She looked back through the peephole for many seconds before swallowing hard and glancing over her shoulder.

  “I … I think it’s okay.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ve checked the screen. It’s clear. I’m going to have to do the same when you’re through.”

  Humor was the last thing on his mind, but the way Judy Jackson responded to the thought of being alone in the cockpit while the captain went to the can almost made him laugh. She nodded in staccato fashion and opened the door slowly, then carefully opened the bathroom door before pulling the cockpit door closed.