Eventually, Mark grew accustomed to the drone of the engines and was finally able to sit back and relax. After downing a couple of stiff drinks, Mark loosened his shoe laces, closed his eyes and could feel himself starting to drift off. He remained calm right up until he heard one of the engines outside his window skip a beat.
Mark was an auto mechanic, he knew engines, and his ear was telling him that something was not right. He wanted to call one of the stewardesses over, but decided to wait and see if it fixed itself. Attempting to soothe himself, he did what he always did when he had trouble sleeping at night; he began to rebuild an automobile engine in his mind.
*
Charles looked up from his paper and asked, “What do you have, G.R?”
“Well, besides my good looks and extremely calm demeanor, the number two spark plug attached to the number fourteen cylinder on engine number four has developed a slight variance,” replied G.R.
“Are you sure it’s a plug and not the magneto?” asked Charles.
“I suppose I could put my ear up against the right side window and listen, but I think the analyzer is correct. My guess is the Dell clamp on the plug is shorting out.”
“Any recommendations?”
“Not much we can do,” advised G.R. “There is a silver dollar-sized rubber nipple that is supposed to prevent this, but it probably tore itself apart. She might start running a little rough, but for now I think we are OK to continue.”
Charles stopped himself from reminding G.R. that they had an ocean of water to fly over and would prefer to not do so with a bum engine. He knew G.R. would never put his airplane at risk. He took him at his word and went back to his newspaper, while at the same time increasing his nonchalant scan of the engine gauges.
The cockpit crew, now that they were all paying closer attention, could hear the engine noise change every so often. It was faint, but they could hear the rhythm momentarily interrupted for a few seconds before returning to normal. Since the problem didn’t seem to be getting any worse, the cockpit crew, with the exception of G.R., slowly let the issue slip from their minds; freeing them up to focus on other matters.
“Clipper forty-two, contact Gander control on six six five five. Goodnight,” advised the controller.
“Clipper forty-two, wilco. Goodnight,” said John.
As soon as John checked in with the Gander controller he was queried for his estimate to the Shark intersection. This imaginary point located fifty miles offshore would be the point where flight forty-two would technically begin its ocean crossing. Each point in their flight plan, made up of degrees of latitude and longitude, represented a prearranged track they were to fly. Though there weren’t many flights operating over the oceans in 1958, there were enough that controllers had to separate them, and did so vertically with altitude and laterally using invisible highways called “tracks.”
Before John had a chance to ask their navigator where the estimates were, Ed handed him a piece of paper with the numbers he needed. John looked up with a smile and said, “Gee, Ed, take your time why don’t you?”
Moments after John finished passing along flight forty-two’s time estimates for each point in their flight plan, Charles said, “John, why don’t you take a twenty minute break. When you come back, I’ll get some sack time. Wake Asa on your way back so he can sit here and keep an eye on me while you’re gone.”
Before John left the cockpit, with his hand clutching the doorknob, he took a deep breath. The time to face Liesel had come. He only hoped that he wouldn’t come completely unglued before it was all over.
When he reached the cabin, John noticed that Liesel was standing in the back of the airplane having a discussion with the other two stewardesses.
“The drink service is not supposed to be done that way,” advised Kelly.
“Come on, Kelly, it’s not a big deal,” said Sue.
“It will be a big deal if there’s a Pan Am spy on board checking up on me--watching how I run the service,” said Kelly with obvious concern.
“I doubt there are any spies on board. But if it helps to keep the peace, I’ll do it your way,” conceded Sue.
“It’s not my way. I’m simply doing what I’m told,” said Kelly.
“Let’s just do what she says,” suggested Liesel.
“Thank you, Liesel,” said Kelly.
“You know, if you insist on being this bossy, Kelly, you’re never going to find a man,” noted Sue, completely unaware of how much her remark would injure her colleague. A moment later she looked up and gasped, suddenly cognizant that their senior copilot was rapidly approaching. Sue quickly recovered and looked at John with a smile, hoping he hadn’t overheard their conversation.
John heard the part about finding a man, but pretended not to. He looked at Sue and decided wisely to simply return the smile. Then, with much trepidation, he walked slowly toward Liesel, practicing in his mind what he would say. When John was about ten feet away, Liesel turned and smiled brightly. A brief moment later, John’s mind went totally blank.
“Hello, handsome. What brings you here?” asked Liesel.
“I, uh,” said John, before clearing his throat to try again. “I, uh, rather thought we might talk. That is if you can spare the time.”
Noting that John was looking at the floor, Liesel asked, “Are you talking to your feet or to me?”
John immediately looked up and answered, “You, of course.”
“What do you want to talk about?” asked Liesel in a playful tone. She knew John was struggling and decided to egg him on a bit more. She was in her mid-twenties and took the job with Pan Am simply to see the world and have fun. Whereas some stewardesses were “slam-clickers,” closing their hotel room door and locking themselves in for the duration of the layover, Liesel was the partying kind. She liked John but was in no way looking for a husband, at least not yet.
“If you’re too busy, I can come back,” suggested John.
“I’m not busy. What do you want to talk about?” she asked again.
“I thought we might talk about, oh, I don’t know, perhaps having dinner or something,” said John, struggling with every word.
Opposite the two aft lavs located behind first class there were two small closets full of coats and jackets. Liesel grabbed John’s hand and pulled him into the rearmost part of the cabin. She stopped next to one of the closets where she hoped they could be alone. When she was certain that they could not easily be overheard, Liesel spun him around and planted a kiss on his cheek. Then she said, “It’s about time you talked to me. I’ve been hoping you’d ask me out ever since we met. I swear I’ve never met anyone as shy as you, Mr. John Tacker.”
“Liesel, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever set eyes upon. Whenever you’re around my mind turns to mush. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” replied Liesel, while caressing John’s forearm with her silky soft hand. What followed was an awkward silence that hung in the air--one that Liesel hoped John would break. When it became obvious that the reluctant copilot wouldn’t, “Tell me about yourself,” she asked. “Where are you from?”
For the next twenty-five minutes, John told Liesel his story. Since it was his version, he had no misgivings whatsoever about glossing over the parts that might make him look bad. This, he knew, was the time to build himself up. He had to get it right.
“Let me get this straight. Now, Bill Pratt is our captain’s son?” asked Liesel, pointing toward the cockpit.
“Yes, it’s a strange coincidence; that’s for sure. But Bill and I aren’t friends anymore. We haven’t been for a long time. Charles must know that because he never talks about Bill or about when we were kids. Charles was gone for long stretches when we were growing up. I suppose he was off flying around the world for Pan Am, so he might not remember me from back then,” said John.
“How come you two are no longer friends?” asked Liesel.
“Wow,” said
John as he exhaled deeply, “that’s a long story.”
“Before you tell me, I think I should tell you something about Charles,” said Liesel. But before she could speak, John cut her off.
“Oh, gee!” exclaimed John, after looking at his watch. “I’m sorry, Liesel, but speaking of Charles, he expected me back up front five minutes ago. I have to go.”
“Let’s talk again later, before you take a nap, OK?” suggested Liesel.
“Yes, let’s,” said John as he turned and hurriedly made his way to the cockpit. When he approached Kelly and Sue in the forward part of the cabin, he stopped briefly to ask about the couple necking in the tenth row. He hesitated for only a second, noticed the two stewardesses were still quietly arguing, and then continued forward after deciding to let the matter drop.
John entered the cockpit and noticed that Charles had already vacated his seat. Since the curtain was drawn around the lower bunk and the upper bunk was vacant, John assumed Charles must have grown tired of waiting. He squeezed past Ed, Lars and G.R., all of whom were engaged in a very heated discussion using muted voices.
“What’s going on, Asa?” asked John as he buckled himself into the left seat.
“We just passed fifty degrees north, fifty degrees west. And according to Ed, we are on course to our next waypoint. Gander got our last position report, and as of the last time I checked, the weather ahead is looking good,” responded Asa.
“Sounds great; thanks. What’s going on back there?” asked John, while nodding his head toward the back of the cockpit.
“I’m not really sure. I overheard Lars talking with G.R. about some guy in the back, and somehow Ed got involved. I’ve been monitoring the radio so I didn’t get any details. There’s plenty of static on our assigned HF frequency tonight. Maybe that means we’ll get to see some Aurora Borealis,” observed Asa.
*
“Lars, me boy, it looks like you’ve been caught with your pants down, so to speak,” noted G.R. “I suggest you give him time to calm down and then talk to him. Try sticking with the truth as much as you can, but don’t blame it on her. Make it seem like you couldn’t resist and that she fought you every step of the way. That might soothe him a little. I mean, a man is a man.”
“You didn’t see him, G.R., he was fuming,” said Lars.
“Wouldn’t you be?” snapped G.R.
“G.R. is right. Give it a little time. If that doesn’t work, then you’d better learn to sleep with one eye open,” suggested Ed.
“Look, at this point you don’t have a choice,” said G.R. “I mean, what else are you going to do, duke it out with him right here on the airplane?”
Lars looked at Ed for further confirmation of what he should do next.
“Or you’ll simply have to kill him first,” stated Ed with a deadpan expression. “I doubt Pan Am would understand though, so you’ll have to do it on your own time. In the meantime, I have to go gawk at some stars.”
Both Lars and G.R. paused for a moment, unsure of whether their navigator was joking or not. He wasn’t.
“OK, I’ll go back in a few minutes and see if I can get a feel for him. Maybe a few drinks will have softened him up,” said Lars.
“Just be careful. Take it slow and easy,” suggested Ed.
“Yeah, kid, I’ll back you up if you need some muscle, but I’d prefer to avoid gunplay if at all possible,” offered G.R.
“Thanks guys. Really, thanks,” said Lars as he stood to peek into the cabin.
*
“OK, make sure the crank is within tolerances. And don’t forget, the cylinders will have to be honed. If you fail to do that, the new rings will wear out prematurely and it will cost you more in the end,” said Mark Small, speaking silently to himself. His ear told him that one of the engines was still missing a beat. At first it seemed random, but after paying closer attention he heard the skip every time the airplane banked to the right. He was doing all he could to calm his nerves.
Something was definitely amiss.
Seven
Dirk Myers’ bladder could hold out no longer. He smiled at his bride and said, “Wait for me, honey, I’ll be right back.”
Marie nodded with a grin and then sat back for a much-needed breather. She was madly in love with her new husband, but knew inside that if they kept the romantic action up for much longer, things would likely escalate out of control.
There were four small bathrooms on the DC6, two in the forward cabin and two in the rear of the cabin behind first class. Watching briefly as Dirk made his way toward one of the vacant forward lavs, Sonny swung his eyes onto the pretty young woman sitting across the aisle. After leering at her for a full minute, studying every visible detail from head to toe, he was somewhat astonished. The woman looked familiar. He wracked his brain trying to figure out who she was. He knew they’d met before, but couldn’t quite place her. Concluding he had nothing to lose, he asked, “So, are you two newlyweds?”
Marie’s mind only partly heard what the man with the pock-marked face said. She’d noted to herself earlier that the short, stocky man with thick muscular forearms seemed out of place. He had slicked-back dark hair and looked more like a thug than a normal passenger on a Pan Am flight. But because she was feeling slightly out of breath, Marie tilted her head back and patted her chest lightly with her palm. Then, when Marie realized the man across the aisle was actually staring at her, she glanced at Sonny with innocent eyes and asked, “Excuse me? Oh, yes, that’s my husband I’m sitting with.”
The moment the young temptress spoke, his mind clicked. Sonny remembered her.
*
Through the tiny peephole in the cockpit door, Lars spotted Sonny talking to a young woman. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Sonny engaged in small talk. Lars had always believed that his next door neighbor was a loner. He knew that Sonny’s work-life involved meaningless conversations with people he didn’t know, so it was easy to believe that he simply preferred to avoid everyone when he was at home, except for his wife of course. It was a side of the man that Lars had never seen before. Lars found the sight intriguing. He watched, trying to discern what the man was thinking and feeling.
The unwritten guide book for the male species dictates that when a man is homing in on a female all other males are to stay away. Potential murderer or not, Sonny was a man and therefore Lars felt compelled to wait a while longer. He wondered if his neighbor was already moving on with his life. After all, nothing rids the mind of a failed relationship faster than a new one. After taking one more look, Lars turned back toward the cockpit.
*
“The valve guides look good. Just make sure the pushrods are clean and straight,” said Mark in silence. In his mind he could practically hear one of the engines on the right wing getting ready to explode. He wondered why the crew and other passengers weren’t more concerned.
Mark summoned up the courage to briefly look out the window, but did not observe anything out of the ordinary. He could see the engines and part of the wing, as well as the moon reflecting off of the ink-black ocean far below. But an instant later he looked away and closed the curtain, not wishing to consider any of those life-ending possibilities.
His brief glimpse did allow him to notice the bright red and white glow of the exhaust stacks beneath the engines. The exhaust pipes lit up the entire lower part of the engine cowlings, making it appear as if the engines were actually on fire, though he knew better. From his years spent looking under the hood of an automobile, the white-hot exhaust stacks didn’t bother him one bit.
Mark shifted his eyes around the interior of the airplane, looking for something, anything. He knew that any one of the thousands of parts inside each of the four engines could fail at any moment. In his mind he could almost see them thrashing around, heating up and slowly starting to crack. “It would be best if we replaced the oil pump while we’re in here,” he said to himself softly, with his eyes once again sealed shut.
*
Liesel squeezed p
ast the three men in the aft part of the cockpit, all of whom seemed oblivious to everyone else around them. Without hesitation, she walked to the front of the cockpit and plopped herself down on John Tacker’s lap. “So, captain, do you want to teach me how to fly?” she asked.
For some reason, whether it was because John was the acting captain, or perhaps due to the fact that the ice had been broken, the senior copilot suddenly felt more comfortable in Liesel’s presence. It was a remarkable transformation that even he noticed. John’s feelings of ease were welcome, and yet quite unexpected.
“Hi, Liesel, I’m glad you stopped by. Right now the autopilot is flying, and it seems to be doing a rather good job of it. When it tires, I’ll let you get some stick time,” he said with a huge grin.
“If that’s the way you want it, Mr. Tacker,” replied Liesel. “I’ll be looking forward to getting a little stick time.”
Hearing the gorgeous stewardess’s comment caused Asa to nearly choke on his coffee. He laughed for a brief second, but then turned and looked away.
John smiled at Liesel’s double entendre and his copilot’s reaction to hearing it, but was himself too choked up to reply.
“Oh, you boys just relax,” said Liesel as she glanced around the cockpit. “John, is now a good time or would you prefer if I came back later?”
“Every second that you are near is perfect for me,” answered John, after a momentary pause to gather his thoughts.
“Good. I was hoping to finish our conversation from before,” she said.
Sojourners of the Sky Page 5
