“WHAT?” Dan barked the question.
“Hey,” Dallas said, “maybe he can help. In any event, it’s like chicken soup. May not help but it can’t hurt!”
Dan Wade’s head came around to the left. “Dammit, who’s in charge here?”
The response from Dallas Nielson was instantaneous and sharp. “We thought you were, Danny boy, but you seem to be giving up, with this babble about ditching.”
“The hell I am!” Dan interrupted. “Who the hell are you to—”
Robert MacCabe clamped his hand on Dan’s right shoulder and shook it slightly. “Keep your cool, Dan. We won’t make it without teamwork. The lady’s got a good suggestion, and you should listen to it. It’s not mutiny, it’s teamwork.”
“Listen, Daniel!” Dallas continued. “You’ve worked miracles to keep us alive, but you gotta open your mind to different ideas.”
“I really … don’t need … California hot-tub psychobabble right now, thank you!”
“I’m not from California, Dan,” Dallas shot back, “my name’s Dallas, and I don’t own a hot tub, and you don’t have a lot of options. Fact is, I was gonna suggest maybe we audition every passenger and find out who can learn to fly the quickest.”
A sarcastic young voice spoke from behind, tinged with fear. “There’s not much to flying this airplane, anyway. It’s just a big video game with wings.”
Dan turned his head to the left, in the direction of the voice. “You know what an attitude indicator is, son?”
“Yeah. And I’m not your son.”
“Read my attitude indicator. Right now.”
Steve Delaney moved forward past Britta and peered at the instrument panel in front of Geoffrey Sampson. “You’re one degree nose-down, and you’re rolling left about five degrees.”
“I’ve got the airplane, Geoffrey,” Dan said, making the corrections to raise the nose and roll back right. He began nodding slowly. “Okay, kid. Not bad. Just tell me the number of degrees of roll-left or -right, and degrees nose-up or nose-down.”
“I’m not a kid, Mister. My name’s Steve.”
“Okay, Steve. Can you do that? Can you call out those corrections?”
“I just did.”
Dan nodded again, this time more forcefully. “Okay, Dallas, I agree. Britta, help Mr. Sampson out of the left seat and put … Mr. Delaney in it. Quickly.”
“All right, Dan,” Britta said in a resigned tone, “but after that I’m going to check on things downstairs.” She helped Geoffrey maneuver out of his seat and motioned for Steve to move in.
“In the captain’s seat?” Steve Delaney asked, as Britta hurried from the cockpit, followed by Geoffrey.
“Yes. You’re going to be my eyes and my hands. There’s no autopilot. There’s only me, and I’m blind. If someone else … can keep the airplane straight and level”—Dan stopped and took a long breath—“then maybe I can work on figuring out how to get us down somewhere alive. I need you to keep reading the attitude indicator … and using the yoke to keep the wings level and keep the little dot at about four degrees nose-up. Think you can do that?”
“Sure,” Steve said. “Want me to program the flight computer, too?”
“You know how to do that?”
“Sure. I studied the manual.”
“First,” Dan said, “let’s see if you can fly.”
HONG KONG APPROACH CONTROL,
CHEK LAP KOK/HONG KONG INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
Kat thanked the Approach Control supervisor again and headed for the consulate car, the image of the radar tapes still playing in her mind. She was amazed they had been so open about something that would inevitably end up the subject of a major accident investigation, but the supervisor had hesitated only a few seconds before agreeing to show her the recordings.
The Bombardier Global Express business jet’s transponder had blinked off without warning eight miles ahead of Meridian 5, but there had been shadowy skin paint returns. Kat knew transponders radioed back an electronic answer to radar scopes every few seconds, whenever they picked up an air traffic control radar beam interrogating them. But without an operating transponder, the only thing a controller could see on his scope was the echo of a raw radar signal bouncing off the metal exterior of an aircraft. The skin paint target had appeared just three miles to the side of the 747.
Kat had carefully plotted the speed and altitude of Global Express N22Z when it disappeared, and the speed of the skin paint return, and found they matched perfectly. The Global Express’s crew had turned off their transponder and turned back to cross in front of Meridian 5. Not once, but twice. And the second time, at the very moment the Meridian pilot’s eyes were hit, there were a few more skin paint radar hits, which the Hong Kong Approach facility chief interpreted as debris from a midair collision. The supervisor supplied the tail number of the business jet, explaining that it was operating as an air ambulance and had come out of the business jet terminal.
Kat slid into the backseat of the consulate car and gave directions to the driver to go to the business jet facility, then unfolded the satellite phone to call Jake.
chapter 15
ABOARD MERIDIAN 5, IN FLIGHT,
OVER THE SOUTH CHINA SEA
NOVEMBER 13—DAY TWO
2:48 A.M. LOCAL/1848 ZULU
Dallas Nielson had been unusually quiet for several minutes, her eyes following every move of young Steve Delaney’s hands as he manipulated the flight controls and slowly calmed the 747’s up-and-down motions.
Finally she leaned forward to speak in his right ear. “You’re awesome, Steverino! You’re staying within a hundred feet of your altitude now and staying just about on heading. I’m impressed. Are you watching the attitude indicator as your primary reference?”
“Yeah.”
“I read a book about instrument flying, and that’s what it said to do,” Dallas added. “You’re a natural.”
Steve glanced around to his right and took his first deep breath in more than five minutes. “Yeah, thanks,” he said.
Dallas turned to the copilot. “Dan, he’s doing great. A virtual carbon-based autopilot.”
There was no response. Dan Wade was hunched over the control yoke, his bandaged head in his hands.
“Dan? Dan, you hear me?”
She reached out and gently touched his shoulder, causing him to jump.
“Wha …?”
“Dan, you’ve got to stay with us. Is that painkiller working?”
He sat motionless for a few seconds, then nodded. “It’s making me sluggish.”
“But are you hurting as much? Do you need another shot from the doctor?”
“No,” Dan said, as if surprised at the realization. He began to straighten up, taking mental inventory. “No … it still hurts, but it’s a helluva lot better.”
“Thank God for that!”
Dan nodded again, then sat up suddenly as if shocked, his hands going instantly to the control yoke, his voice almost panicked. “Jeez … where are we?”
“It’s cool, Dan!” Dallas told him. “Steve’s been flying us, and he’s got it under control. He’s doing a great job.”
“We’re … stable?”
“Believe it or not!” Dallas replied.
“What’s our altitude?”
“Eight thousand feet,” Steve Delaney answered.
“Airspeed?”
“Two hundred ten knots.”
“And heading?”
“Steering two-two-zero degrees,” Steve said, “but I don’t know where you want me to head.”
“Dan,” Dallas said, “we still have to decide where to go and what to do. Shouldn’t we go back to Hong Kong? I was hoping you’d have some suggestions.”
“Yeah. Too much happening too fast. All I was thinking about was staying in the air. I … thought we were dead back there.”
“So did we,” Dallas answered quietly. “But the Big Guy had other plans.”
“The Big …?” Dan began.
“God,” Dallas said.
Dan swallowed. “Ah, first … I don’t think we can chance another encounter with those storms, and that means we don’t dare … ah … go back, you know, to Hong Kong. I remember the weather chart. It was pretty clear on the west side of that line. We’ll be okay in this direction, but not if we turn around.”
“But what’s out in this direction, Dan?” Robert asked.
Dan took a deep, ragged breath. “Ah, Vietnam … Thailand. Look, there’s also the problem of finding Hong Kong and staying clear of the hills, even if we could get in. We can’t use any ILS now without a receiver, and it’d be too dangerous to try to have you talk me down at night. I figure we’ve got enough fuel for almost seven more hours of this nightmare … but that’s not enough to get us …” He paused and took another deep, shuddering breath before continuing, “… not going to get us to Australia, or far enough south, except maybe Sumatra, and frankly, I’d like more modern facilities around if … if we need medical help. Technically, we could make the Philippines, but thanks to the damage to the airframe we can’t pressurize, which means we can’t get above ten thousand feet, and there’s a huge line of thunderstorms between Hong Kong and Manila. If we go north, we get into mainland China. They wouldn’t shoot us down, but I don’t know any of the airports there.”
“So that leaves us nowhere to go but west?” Dallas prompted.
Dan nodded. “Yeah. West to Vietnam, and Thailand on the other side. I know Thailand. Bangkok has a long runway, and so does the big air base south of there called U-Tapao. It’s long and flat, and the weather was supposed to be clear.”
“But how do we find it?” Dallas asked.
“Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot to program the navigation computer,” Dan said. He looked left. “Steve, you said you can handle the flight computer?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty simple.”
“That’s arrogant as hell, kid. It takes most pilots weeks of intensive training to master the thing.”
“Doesn’t say much for pilots, does it?” Steve Delaney shot back.
Dallas saw the spark find tinder. Dan inhaled sharply and sat up, his shoulders squaring for a fight. “And just whom do you think you’re talking to, young man?”
“Enough,” Dallas said. “Steve, show a little respect for your elders, okay? You can trade insults after we land. Now is not a good time to start a war.”
She could see the boy struggling with himself. “Sorry,” he said at last.
“Okay, Steve,” Dan said, “look at the Flight Management Computer screen on your side and tell me what it’s showing.”
“Nothing,” Steve replied.
“You might want to turn up the intensity control.”
“I already did, and the screen’s still dark,” Steve replied. “It’s not working.”
“Check the screen on my side.”
“That one’s out, too.”
There was stunned silence from the right seat before Dan pointed to the overhead panel. “There’s, ah, a control head up there for the inertial navigation systems. Do you see any lighted digits on the display face?”
Dallas placed a hand on Steve Delaney’s shoulder. “I’ll look, Steve. You fly.” She strained to look up and shook her head before remembering Dan couldn’t see the gesture. “That screen’s dark, too, Dan.”
“Oh, Lord! Okay, Dallas, I’m going to need you to check the circuit breaker panels.” He relayed the name and position of the circuit breakers that controlled the various navigation and computer equipment, and Dallas checked each one.
“The breakers are all in. I pushed each of them to be sure.”
Dan slumped in his seat again. “I can’t believe this!”
“What?” Steve asked, apprehension audible in his voice.
Dan was shaking his head. “I can’t frigging believe this!”
“Believe what, Dan?” Dallas added.
“What we hadn’t already lost, that lightning strike finished off. We probably lost the transponder as well, so I’ll bet they think we crashed. We really are deaf, dumb, and blind! I don’t have an autopilot, I don’t have navigation radios, I don’t have anything to navigate with, I can’t talk to anyone, the radar’s out.… The only thing we have going for us is the fact the engines are still running and the flight controls still work!”
“So what do we do?” Dallas asked. “How do we find Thailand?”
There was silence from the right seat for several long seconds. “I guess,” Dan began, “with enough fuel—if I can estimate about when we’ll be over Vietnam, we could circle until daylight, then follow the coast around until we find Thailand.”
“You mean, fly visually?” Dallas asked. “Just by looking outside?”
Dan nodded. “With your eyes and my memory and the map … if we could dig out the right map … we could do it.”
“That’s provided we can see the coastline,” Robert said.
“I was thinking, too …” Dan said, “… that if anyone onboard has a radio or a cell phone and we could make contact with … with any air traffic facility …” His voice trailed off.
“Dan,” Dallas said, “even if we find the right airport, how on earth are we going to land? Steve can keep it straight and level, but can the two of you land?”
Steve Delaney shot a silent, anxious look at Dan as the copilot turned his bandaged head to the left. “I’m not sure we’ve got a choice,” he said at last. “First we’ve got to find an adequate airport. All I’d need is one global positioning satellite readout to let us know where we are and where we need to go. Even light airplane drivers have GPS these days, but here we sit, goddammit, in a hundred-and-seventy-five-million-dollar state-of-the-art airliner, and I might as well be navigating with Charles Lindbergh’s equipment.”
Robert MacCabe had been looking at the floor in deep thought. He looked up suddenly and snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. I’ll bet anything someone on this airplane has a portable GPS, one of those little portable units. They were even selling them in the duty-free stores in Hong Kong. I’ll go ask the passengers.” Robert unsnapped his seat belt and slid out of the jump seat as Dan turned toward him, speaking in the same slightly drugged meter.
“Robert, ah … ask if anyone has a cell phone, okay? Maybe we’ll get a break.”
MacCabe was back within ten minutes. “Dan, this is Robert again. I’m right behind you.”
The copilot turned his head to the left to listen. “Go ahead.”
“We’re out of luck, I’m afraid. We did find a passenger with a handheld GPS, but it’s in the baggage compartment in a checked bag.”
Dan sighed. “Naturally. There’s no way, of course, we can get into the baggage compartments in flight.”
“But,” Robert added, “Britta tells me she knows where we could go through the floor. It’s somewhere behind first class.”
“What?” Dan began shaking his head. “She’s thinking about the floor hatch in first class. That only goes down to the electronics compartment … same compartment we ripped apart back in Hong Kong. That won’t get you to the luggage, and it … ah … definitely won’t get you close to the rear compartment. There’s a huge fuel tank. And there’s the wing structure in the way.”
“I didn’t know that,” Robert said. “Hollywood had me convinced there were kitchens in the belly with doors to the baggage compartment.”
“Yeah, well … those are called lower lobe galleys. Some types of jumbos had them, but not this one. I’m afraid we’re out of business on that idea.”
“Wait a minute,” Dallas said. “You guys listen to yourselves! I don’t believe this! Dan, you need that GPS to get us to a good airport in Thailand, right?”
Dan Wade thought for a few seconds before answering. “It would sure help. It’s … going to be difficult to find our way without some form of navigation, and all we’ve got now are compasses. We can hold any heading, we just don’t know which one to use without something like a GPS. But Dallas, if the onl
y one aboard is in a baggage bin, forget it. I mean, even if we could get in there, we don’t know which bin the bag’s in, forward or aft.”
“Actually,” Robert said, “we do know. The man who owns it saw his bag being loaded in the rear bin coming up a long conveyor belt on the right side.”
“Well,” Dan began, shaking his head slowly, “we know it’s in there, but there’s no way to get to it. It was a good try, anyway.”
Dallas Nielson snapped off her seat belt and stood up, her hands on her hips. “Wait just a damn minute here!” she said. “By the way, Dan, I’m standing right now and looking daggers at you! What the hell do you guys mean, ‘good try’?” She included Robert MacCabe in her sweeping, disapproving glance. “I haven’t seen a try yet, let alone a good try, just a lot of defeatist talking!”
Dan sighed loudly. “Dallas, look. There are no cabin doors to the rear baggage compartment in flight. If that isn’t clear enough for you—”
“Whoa, mister can-do attitude! Are we hauling around a rear baggage bin or did we leave that mother back in Hong Kong?”
The copilot turned farther around in his seat to face Dallas’s voice. “Dallas, I’d like to get that GPS as much as you would, but—”
“I don’t think so! Otherwise, you’d be trying to find a way to solve the problem instead of sitting here trying to justify why it can’t be done.”
“But it can’t be done!”
“Bullshit, Baby! Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Dan shook his head with an exasperated sigh “Lady, who in the hell are you, anyway?”
She laughed, short and loud. “I’m no lady, ace, I’m a woman who’s learned a few things about surviving over the years, and lesson one is, you never, ever give up.”
“I really resent that!” Dan snapped. “That’s … that’s the second time you’ve accused me of giving up. I’m not giving up, but I’m not going to sit here in blinding pain and argue about things we can’t change.”
Robert MacCabe leaned forward, his palm up. “Okay, boys and girls, look. This will get us nowhere—”
Dallas ignored him, the volume of her voice rising. “What are you telling me, Dan? You telling me there’s no damned physical way to get to that baggage bin, or just no procedure?”
Blackout Page 14