LACKING VIRTUES

by Thomas Kirkwood

  In the aftermath of the break-in Boeing had conducted a painstaking search of its inventory. Other than the missing 747 parts found in the van in front of Hassan Aziz’es apartment, the search revealed no irregularities. The case seemed too cut-and-dried to warrant further investigation. Attention shifted to Washington, where diplomatic initiatives were in full swing and a resumption of the bombing against Iraq had not been ruled out.

  As for Stein, he was a notorious loner who often put his sign in his window and left Seattle for his cabin in the northwest woods for months. He had not been missed and probably wouldn’t be until late autumn. His concrete grave in the second basement of the shop had been drying for a week now, and Claussen doubted it would ever be disturbed.

  All quiet on the western front.

  He had visited Bendix and GE on his drive east. Last night Claussen had wrapped up the Pratt & Whitney stage of his mission, which was far and away the easiest.

  Claussen’s oldest collaborator at the jet engine facility, David Melchior, was the chief quality control engineer. Since his job required him to select items from the parts inventory for random testing, Melchior was able to substitute Claussen’s counterfeits for originals without appearing to do anything abnormal.

  Melchior was delighted with the $300,000 Claussen had offered him as payment for the trifling assignment. He was a bon vivant, American style. Claussen believed he would have enjoyed the money, had he not succumbed to an apparent coronary 12 hours ago . . .

  He glanced at his watch. Time to shower and dress for his evening flight. He was anxious to get home now, where he could announce his checkmate to Michelet and company, return to the composition of his memoirs and wait for the fireworks to begin.

  PART II

  Chapter Twenty

  Jim Hutchinson knew the statistics. He smoked, drank, ate what he wanted and limited his physical exercise to an occasional round of layover adultery. He was at the high risk end of a high risk group. Retirement age at United Airlines was 60; life expectancy for the company’s international pilots was 62. If you believed the charts, this 757 pilot already had one foot in the grave.

  He glanced over at Bob Gaines, the copilot they’d given him for the San Francisco-Honolulu run. He’d flown with Gaines before. The man did odd things, like going out for a run when they landed even if it was the middle of the night. And if he joined you at the table, you could tell he was more interested in counting fat grams than enjoying the food.

  Not that there was anything wrong with him. He had a sense of humor if you skipped the ethnic jokes, and could hit the golf ball a country mile. But what he couldn’t do – what none of the younger pilots could do – was get the statistical monkey of that death chart off their backs.

  Jesus, it drove Hutchinson crazy. Here they were caught up in a profession that required you to abide by the most nitpicking regimens. The days of flying by the seat of your pants were over. Now all you did was read checklists, follow meticulous routines and let the computers do your calculations.

  Fine. The complexity of aviation had made this necessary. But the younger guys took their checklists with them out of the cockpit and into life. That’s what Hutchinson would never get used to. William, please run the fish dinner checklist. Is it fried? Is it salted? Is it fresh? Jeremy, run the exercise checklist. Stretches? Warm up? Total miles? Minutes with pulse above 140? Warm down? Stretches?

  Christ, they probably had bedroom checklists, too. If their life expectancy statistics looked better than his when they reached retirement age, big deal. He had done everything wrong and enjoyed the hell out of it. These guys had done everything right and been miserable most of the time. No wonder the company had to give them courses on smiling at passengers.

  “Jim,” Gaines said after a long silence, “I’m getting an irregular indication here.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “We’re showing a loss of oil on engine number two.”

  Hutchinson snapped out of his reverie. Whatever his foibles on the ground, he was no slouch in the cockpit. “How much loss?”

  “It’s come down about three quarts in the last ten minutes. I’m thinking we might have a leak out on that engine.”

  “More likely a defective sending unit. Why don’t you go back and see if you can see anything?”

  Gaines took a stroll through the cabin. When he returned, he said, “Nothing visible, but you don’t really have a good view of the engine.”

  “Well, we’re still showing the loss. Two more quarts while you were gone.”

  Gaines sat down and studied the readings. “I don’t think it’s the sender, Jim. The pressure’s down ten p.s.i. and the temperature is climbing.”

  Hutchinson shook his head. “I’ll be a son of a bitch. Looks like we’re gonna find out if it was a good idea to send the Seven Fives out on the Hawaii track. Start the auxiliary power unit and run the engine shutdown checklist for number two.”

  The captain and first officer went through the standardized operations for shutting down engine number two, Gaines running the checklist while Hutchinson flew the aircraft. They made the transition to one-engine flight so smoothly only a fellow pilot would have noticed.

  “All right,” Hutchinson said. “Punch up the single engine data in the Flight Management System. Call Oakland Center and declare an emergency. Tell them we can’t maintain this altitude without number two. When you get done with that, let’s notify the company of the problem. Since we passed the equal time point seven or eight minutes ago, we’ll continue on to Honolulu.”

  “Okay, Jim, we’re cleared to descend to thirty-two thousand. Traffic Control wants to know if you can hold that altitude.”

  “According to the FMS, we can hold it at an airspeed of two hundred ninety knots.” Hutchinson increased the throttle to max cruise thrust and started his descent. “You got the company yet?”

  “I’m calling now.”

  “Why don’t you give them an ETA based on our present speed? I hope you didn’t have a golf game planned.”

  “A long run on the beach,” Gaines said. “I played golf yesterday. An hour this way or that won’t bother me. How about you?”

  “My post-flight entertainment, the well-endowed blonde you were ogling when we got on board, is in the cabin. I guess she and I are on the same schedule. Think of me during your run.”

  Hutchinson glanced over at his copilot, hoping to get some sort of a rise out of him. At first, he thought Gaines might be pretending not to hear him, but when he saw the expression on the man’s face, he knew something was wrong.

  Gaines spoke before Hutchinson could ask him what the problem was. “Jim, what the hell is going on? Look at your indications. Now we’re showing an oil loss on engine number one.”

  “Goddammit, that can’t be. These new engines don’t fail once in a million miles. What are the chances of losing two on the same flight?”

  “I don’t know what the chances are, but it’s happening. We’re down four quarts since we ran the checklist.”

  “Holy Christ. We’re still almost two and a half hours out of Honolulu, two out of Hilo. Shut down the generator. Let’s see if we can keep her from heating up.”

  “Roger, but I don’t think it’ll do much good. We’re down to eleven quarts.”

  “Shit. Get me the company maintenance coordinator on the H F radio.”

  While Gaines established the communications link, Hutchinson picked up his hand set and called the head flight attendant to the cockpit.

  Two knocks. He let her in and motioned for her to sit in the empty jump seat. He said, “They send two-engine planes over three thousand miles of water with nowhere to land. I’d say, Julie, that we’re about to prove them foolhardy.”

  “You lost number two, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, and we’re about to lose number one. There’s not much chance we can keep this thing going to Honolulu. We’re going to have to brief the passengers and prepare to ditch.”

  “But
– ”

  “You’d better get it done. When that last engine conks out, we won’t have long.”

  Julie Harper got up, stunned, and left the cockpit. He had his doubts she was up to the coming ordeal, but when he heard her masterful announcement to the passengers, he knew the cabin was in competent hands. One less thing to worry about.

  “Jim, I’ve got company maintenance.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take over. This is United One-Eight-One. Who am I talking to?”

  “This is Evans, Seven Five maintenance coordinator in Denver. What seems to be the problem?”

  “The plural, problems,” Hutchinson said. “We shut down engine number two on account of substantial oil loss, a drop in pressure and a rise in temperature. Now we’re getting indications the exact same thing is happening on engine number one. I’ve got no idea what’s wrong. All I know is, we’re over water a couple of hours from the nearest landing site. Do you guys have any idea what’s going on and what we should do about it?”

  “Well, I’ve never heard of anything like this before. Stand by for a moment, sir. I’m going to do a maintenance search on your aircraft and get the Pratt and Whitney tech rep on the line.”

  “Thanks, Evans.”

  He glanced over at Gaines, who was accustomed to being in control of situations. His copilot was pale and looked uneasy. Hutchinson felt like making a crack about the long-term health consequences of having to exchange a five mile run for a 1000 mile swim, but thought better of it. Now if ever was the time to foster a spirit of camaraderie in the cockpit.

  “Hello, United One-Eight-One. Captain?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is Holmes from P and W. Our twenty forty engine has no history at all of indication problems. If I’ve understood your people at United correctly, you don’t think it’s an indication problem anyway.”

  “It’s not a goddamn indication problem, that’s correct. We’re losing oil, lots of it.”

  “All right, I’ll stay on the line, but it sounds to me like a maintenance oversight. I don’t have the maintenance history of your aircraft so – ”

  “Excuse me, this is Evans again in Denver. The aircraft just went through a C-check in San Francisco. This is its first time back on the line.”

  “Were the senders pulled?”

  “Yes, sir, when the oil was changed.”

  “This is irritating to say the least,” Hutchinson growled. “It sounds like some yo-yo forgot the O-rings. If I get out of this alive, I’m going to personally go looking for him.”

  “I understand your frustration, sir, but new O-rings appear to have been used. That was the first thing I checked. We’ve got a record of the requisition order for the correct items. They’re looking for the mechanics to confirm that the parts were actually installed. In any case, sir, if the O-rings had been left off, you would have experienced an immediate oil loss similar to what you’re experiencing out there now. If O-rings are the culprit, it would appear that they were installed but that something caused them to dissolve in flight.”

  “Jesus, you guys have gotta do better than this. I’m out here over the ocean about to lose my second engine. You know what the chances are for setting this thing down in water without killing everyone on board. About zero.”

  “This is Holmes, Pratt and Whitney, again. Captain, I think I might be able to help you. When we certify these engines, we run them without oil until they fail. We’ve had instances of engines running as long as fifty hours. My suggestion is this. Start up engine number two so you don’t overstress the engine that’s now carrying the load and run them both at a constant power setting. Remember, the tests are based on constant power settings. Ignore temperatures in the red, they can handle it. The engines should get you where you’re going, provided you avoid any power fluctuations. That will take some good flying, but it seems to me your best bet.”

  “Thank you, sir, we’ll try it.” Hutchinson signed off the radio shaking his head. “I still think someone in San Francisco fucked up. Go ahead, Bob. Run the air start checklist for number two.”

  “There’s no oil in it, Jim, and spooling up represents a power fluctuation. I don’t think it’s a good idea regardless of what P and W says.”

  “We’re not gonna get there without it.”

  “Jim, think about it. If the thing seizes, it could torque off the pylon and damage the aircraft – or explode. The Pratt and Whitney guy isn’t up here. It’s easy for him to theorize with two feet on dry ground. I think it’s too risky.”

  “Thanks for your thoughts, Bob. Now please run the air start checklist.”

  The engine spooled up. They had shut her down in time, there was no damage. Slowly, steadily, Hutchinson pushed the power up. He was about to relax when a huge vibration shook the aircraft and the engine seized.

  Hutchinson shrugged his shoulders. “All right, we lost her. Enough screwing around. We’re gonna ditch before we lose number one. We’re not going in as a glider.”

  “Jim, listen to me. I was right about number two seizing, so would you please just listen?”

  “You were also wrong about number two. It did not torque off the pylon and it did not explode. Go on, what’s your point?”

  “I don’t think ditching now is our best option. I think we’re better off hoping number one will keep turning and get us in – if not all the way, at least close enough so we can get some ships out here to help with the rescue. We’re nine hundred miles from land. Even if we survive the impact, most of us will be dead before anyone gets to us.”

  “It’s still better than trying to land a swept-wing aircraft with no power. We’d have too steep a descent angle and too much speed. Not to mention that we’ve got to come in on the back side of a swell. Without power, I won’t have enough control over our flight path to position the aircraft. The water will hit us like the side of a mountain. So our choice is either try to make it to Hilo or ditch now. We’re going to ditch now, Bob.”

  “It’s your call, Captain.”

  “That’s right. Give Oakland Center our position, heading, indicated air speed, altitude and intent. Then run the ditching checklist.”

  “Got it.” While Gains worked, Hutchinson summoned the head flight attendant back to the cockpit. This time he did not offer her a seat. “We’re going in, Julie. You’ve been through the passenger briefing so go ahead and get the life rafts out of the bins and secure them in the galleys. Make sure everyone is wearing a life vest. How’s the mood out there?”

  “Bad, and I assure you it will get worse. We’re even having trouble with one of the flight attendants. We’re holding her in the aft toilet as discreetly as possible.”

  “Do your best. We’ve got our hands full up here.”

  “I will, Captain. What are our chances?”

  “Keep your thoughts on the evacuation. Anything I tell you is speculation.”

  She left and he went back to work. Minutes later, the number one engine seized with a violent shudder.

  “Goddammit,” Hutchinson growled, “this is what I call a bad day.”

  “How do you want to do this, Jim?”

  Hutchinson tilted the nose down to avoid a stall. “Finish up the checklist. When we descend through five thousand feet, I want you to start calling out our altitude in increments of one thousand feet. At one thousand feet, we’ll configure the airplane. Then start giving me readings in increments of one hundred feet. In the meantime get on the radio and let them know what’s going on. With any luck there’ll be a ship or two in the area.”

  “Roger.”

  They glided in eerie silence toward the low clouds covering the Pacific, a silence interrupted from time to time by a muffled scream from the cabin.

  They were at 18,000 feet now, airspeed 250 knots. Hutchinson made a crisp cool announcement to the cabin to help the flight crew with its impossible task of calming the passengers, then glanced at his copilot. He could see Gaines was taking the prospect of imminent death less well. No wonder.
The poor bastard had tried to put life in a savings account, renouncing all of the things a man in his prime enjoyed so that he could have a secure and healthy old age. Bad choice.

  “Any ships in the area?” Hutchinson asked.

  “The carrier Enterprise is about two hundred miles away. They’ve got us on radar and have already dispatched search planes and rescue helicopters. Maybe our luck is changing.”