by Rick Mofina
Al-Anjari had extended the landing gear.
The jet had now descended to one thousand feet and was fully configured for the landing. When the plane reached eight hundred feet Al-Anjari took manual control of the aircraft, instructing Khalid Marafi, the copilot, to disconnect the autopilot at seven hundred feet.
Marafi disengaged the autopilot.
At fifty seconds from landing, Al-Anjari, now in control, commanded more thrust from both engines. Both engines initially responded, but seemed disturbingly reduced to a trickle of power.
“What the hell’s this?” Al-Anjari couldn’t believe it. “What’s going on?”
At thirty-five seconds from touchdown, Al-Anjari and Marafi scrambled to identify the cause for the loss of thrust.
“I don’t know what’s happening!” Marafi said. “Our speed is dropping fast! We’re not going to reach the runway!” He scanned the instruments for the problem. The fuel level was okay, the pumps were okay, no fire indicators, no malfunctions. “We’ve got a double engine failure! The engines have been switched off!”
“Switched off? How? We didn’t do that! Try restarting!”
They commanded a restart without response. Nothing worked.
Al-Anjari’s throat tightened as he scanned the rooftops of Hounslow and noticed a petrol station ahead.
Not here! Oh God, please, not here!
Now at twelve seconds before touchdown, a buzzer sounded and a robotic voice warned, “Air speed low! Air speed low!” Then the stick shaker activated and the control column physically vibrated, indicating that the aircraft was about to stall.
“We’re going to crash!” Marafi shouted.
Al-Anjari reached for the cabin PA system and announced to the passengers, “Brace! Brace! Brace for hard landing!” Then he radioed the tower. “Four one eight, Mayday! Mayday!”
At five seconds before impact, the jet just cleared the houses of Hounslow and the petrol station, coming so low to traffic on the A30 motorway that ran along the airport’s south side that vehicles swerved to avoid the airliner’s landing gear.
In the moment before impact, Al-Anjari pulled back on the control column and thought of his wife and children, flying kites and picnicking amid the southern dunes, praying he would see them again.
The jet came down in the grassy undershoot of the runway about two hundred and fifty yards inside the airfield perimeter fence. The right wingtip hit the ground first, followed by the right main landing gear. The wing disintegrated and the landing gear broke away as the plane skidded, then lifted and rolled, cartwheeling to an inverted position.
As it tumbled down the right side of the runway, the plane broke up. The rear tail section separated, taking several rows with it. While most passengers were belted in their seats, others spilled from the plane to the ground as it bounced along.
The main fuselage, the large center section, remained intact. As it slid and rolled, passengers were rocked loose in the cabin, some catapulted through it and out of the gaping hole left by the separated tail section. The metallic grind was deafening as passengers in the cabin were jerked and shaken like toys. The section seemed to slide forever before coming to a stop upside down.
People still belted were hanging in their seats. Blood dripped everywhere, and severed legs, arms and hands were scattered about the cabin. In some areas, the fuselage had been crushed, trapping people in coffins of compacted metal, their bleeding hands reaching out. The air filled with screaming, moaning and the overpowering smell of jet fuel.
“I can’t find my husband!” One woman cried. “Help me find my husband!”
As people began disentangling themselves and helping others, a ball of fire shot down the cabin, blasting it with heat and a kerosene smell. In the choking smoke, people fought to help each other, struggling to the daylight and away from the wreckage amid the wail of approaching sirens.
The crash track was clawed into the earth. It was strewn with passengers, some unconscious, some dazed, in a trail that led to the severed tail section. The people in that section who were able to helped others free themselves, then stumbled aimlessly, staring at the foul cloud of black smoke rising from the main fuselage.
The cockpit had separated and had come to rest some seventy yards down the runway.
Amid the dust and swirling smoke, rescuers pulled bleeding crew members from the wreckage. Captain Al-Anjari passed in and out of consciousness as he glimpsed the scene: his plane in smoldering pieces, passengers staggering through the carnage.
Amid the cries of victims and sirens, he turned his head to the sky, as if the answer to the horror was written there.
Twenty-One
Manhattan, New York
Half a world away from the crash, Kate handed Grace her backpack and unlocked their apartment door. They started to leave for Grace’s school when Vanessa called from the living room.
“Kate! You should see this!”
Vanessa was working on her laptop while watching a breakfast program. The TV showed burning pieces of a jetliner and the graphic at the bottom read, “Breaking News: Plane Crash.”
“Turn it up, Vanessa,” Kate said.
“...happening now in the UK. We’re seeing live pictures of a Starglide Blue Wing 250, Shikra Airlines Flight 418, from Kuwait City to London. The plane crashed just short of the southern runway at London’s Heathrow Airport. The airline has confirmed there were two hundred passengers and eight crew aboard and while we don’t have verified figures, officials are confirming there are fatalities...”
A thousand thoughts blazed through Kate’s mind.
Her heart went out to the crash victims and their families, and she thought of the message she’d received, warning of another incident.
Oh my God, is this it? Is there a connection?
More questions swirled, but Kate had little time. She had to take care of her priorities.
“Let’s go, honey.” She turned to Grace. “Let’s get you to school.”
During the nine-block walk to the school, Kate made several calls and sent several texts, trying to get a handle on the new tragedy.
“Mom, you’re walking too fast!”
“Sorry, sweetie.”
“Does the plane crash mean you’re going to work more?”
“Maybe. Maybe Nancy or Vanessa will have to pick you up today.”
“We’re still going to the zoo and the bubble show in the park this weekend, right?”
“That’s the plan. But we’ll have to see.”
“Could we shop for my new shoes, too?”
“We talked about the shoes, honey. Did you get your report done?”
“Yes.”
After hugs and kisses at the school, Kate called the newsroom. As she hurried to the subway, phone pressed to her ear, the news assistant put her through to an editor.
“Reeka Beck.”
“Reeka, it’s Kate. I’m trying to reach Chuck. He’s not responding to my messages.”
“He’s in a meeting. Is this about the Heathrow crash?”
“Yes. I’m on my way in and I think we need to—”
“We’re on the story. Our London bureau’s dispatched people to Heathrow and I’ve got Sloane looking into any connections here.”
“Sloane? Does he know about the warning message I got? At the meeting, Graham ordered the message be kept confidential.”
“I know, but word gets around in a newsroom and I had to let Sloane know so he could work on the story. You two are teamed on it, or did you forget?”
Kate rolled her eyes. Where was Chuck when she needed him?
“I’m making calls, too, Reeka.”
“You do that, but I think we’re covered.”
Anger boiled in Kate’s gut as she reached the stairs leading down t
o the 125th Street station. She wanted to scream at Reeka.
“Kate? Kate, I think we need to—”
Kate ended the call.
* * *
Thirty-five minutes later Kate was at her desk, where she continued making calls, including a number to the offices of Shikra Airlines in Kuwait, London and New York. She also sent messages to a number of sources and kept up with the latest coverage on Heathrow.
The newsroom’s large flat-screen monitors were tuned to 24/7 news channels, all of which were reporting on the crash.
Most networks had reached witnesses and experts to comment and speculate, while images of emergency vehicles and first responders working in the smoldering aftermath played live.
“We can now confirm at least nine fatalities,” the anchor on Britain’s Sky News reported. “That’s nine dead in the crash of Shikra Airlines Flight 418 at Heathrow and that number is expected to rise.”
The man at the desk for the BBC cupped a hand to his ear and said, “Our Miranda Foster reports that Scotland Yard is stating that so far nothing suggests this tragedy is terror related.”
Kate kept track of the wire stories flowing in from AP and Reuters then went to the raw copy from Newslead’s London bureau.
LONDON—A Shikra Airlines jet from Kuwait City carrying 208 people crashed while attempting to land, killing at least nine people and injuring dozens of others at one of the world’s busiest airports.
National investigators will speak to surviving crew members and study the plane’s flight data recorder and maintenance records to determine what caused the deadly crash landing at Heathrow Airport.
Nothing so far has surfaced to identify terrorism as the cause, a source at Scotland Yard said.
Nigel Ashworth, an aviation specialist, said the characteristics of impact would point to a total and sudden loss of engine power as a possible cause.
Upon impact the plane, a Starglide Blue Wing 250, broke into three pieces, with the tail, main fuselage and front cockpit sections strewn over several hundred yards. Some passengers spilled from the aircraft still strapped in their seats, while others remained in the wreckage.
Fire trucks responded by spraying fire-retardant foam around the wreckage before paramedics could load the injured onto the thirty ambulances dispatched to the scene.
Kate thought the story was strong.
It went on with witness accounts from survivors Newslead staff had reached at Hillingdon Hospital, where most of the injured had been taken.
As Kate read to the bottom, something twigged in the back of her mind and she reread two paragraphs:
Harold Harker, editor of the Air Industry Network, an online specialty site, said the problem seemed to take place in the flight’s final seconds.
“It’s as if they encountered a sudden and major malfunction, as if a switch had been thrown to slam them into the earth,” he said. “It is very odd.”
Harker’s comments made the tiny hairs at the back of Kate’s neck stand up because they echoed what the captain of EastCloud Flight 4990 had told her.
Her phone rang.
“Paul Murther at the NTSB returning your call.”
“Thanks for getting back to me, Paul. Is the NTSB going to take part in the investigation of today’s Heathrow crash?”
“I can confirm that we’re sending a team of investigators at the request of the UK’s Air Accidents Investigation Branch because the aircraft involved was built in the US.”
“Will you be looking for similarities with EastCloud Flight Forty-nine Ninety?”
“We can’t speculate on the focus of the investigation but we won’t rule anything out. That’s all I can tell you at this point.”
As Murther disconnected, Kate went online to get contact information for Starglide’s press office, which was at the company headquarters in Atlanta. While she was on hold, she researched the history of the plane. It seemed to have a good safety record, and she found an article in an aviation-industry magazine that noted the Starglide Blue Wing 250 had a state-of-the-art flight-management system.
Something pinged in the back of Kate’s mind. She went back to her interview with Captain Raymond Matson, who’d said the problem with Flight 4990 was a “clear flight control computer malfunction.”
“Chad Perkins, Starglide.”
“Kate Page, Newslead. I’m calling for Starglide’s response to the Heathrow crash.”
“Of course, our thoughts go out to the families of those who were killed and injured. Air safety is our priority. Kate, we’ll be issuing a full statement in about forty-five minutes.”
“Any thoughts on what might have happened?”
“It’s too early to speculate, but I assure you we’ll cooperate fully with the investigation. Excuse me, I have other calls.”
“Chad, one last question. Who’s the maker of the fly-by-wire system installed in the Blue Wing?”
“That’s a matter of public record.”
“I know, but if you could confirm it.”
“Richlon-Titan of California.”
Kate sat up.
That’s the same system as Flight 4990’s.
She started writing fast, shaping her notes into a story to be inserted for updates on Newslead’s Heathrow coverage. As she worked, she heard Chuck Laneer’s voice, lifted her head and spotted him huddled across the newsroom with Reeka and Sloane.
Grabbing her notebook, Kate joined them just as Reeka was assuring Chuck that Newslead’s London bureau had the crash well covered.
“Sloane’s already checked and found it unlikely there’s a link between Heathrow and the LaGuardia plane,” Reeka said.
“Really?” Kate looked at Sloane. “You’ve confirmed that already, while the wreck is still burning? Before an investigation’s even begun, you have the answer?”
“It’s a different aircraft and different airline in London,” Sloane said. “Most likely a coincidence. And, despite popular opinion, my sources and I are confident that the Buffalo incident was pilot error.”
Kate shook her head.
“You know, Sloane, I just don’t get why you’re so quick to dismiss every unanswered aspect of these two cases,” Kate said.
“Kate,” Chuck said, “did you find anything, anything to add?”
“Yes. The NTSB is sending an investigative team to London.”
“That’s standard,” Sloane said. “The Blue Wing’s American-made.”
“And—” ignoring him, Kate flipped pages of her notebook “—the flight-management system in the Heathrow plane was made by Richlon-Titan. Both aircraft have the same system.”
“You’ve confirmed this?” Reeka asked.
“Just now, on the record with Chad Perkins, Starglide’s spokesperson in Atlanta. As you will recall, the captain of the Buffalo plane told us that he thought the problem was a system malfunction.”
Chuck removed his glasses and stroked his chin.
“Remember,” Kate said. “Our messenger warned of an incident if we didn’t run a story crediting him for the EastCloud flight. We didn’t run the story and now we have an incident with a plane that has the same flight-management system. Only now we have deaths. Chuck, we need to take a hard look at the Shikra flight.”
Chuck folded his arms and tapped his glasses to his teeth.
“I don’t want to gamble with this. I’ll talk to Howard about alerting Heatley at the FBI. Kate, I want you on a plane to London as soon as possible.”
Twenty-Two
Washington, DC
Robert Cole from North Dakota on hold for you, Jake. He says it’s important.
Jake Hooper winced at the text message from reception, then texted his response.
Thanks. I’m tied up; tell him to leave a voice message.
For Hooper, the thought of Robert Cole always generated a wave of sadness—such a tragic case—but he returned to his notes as today’s progress meeting on the investigation into Flight 4990 began.
This morning it was being run by Bill Cashill, the investigator-in-charge. All investigative team members were involved to assess progress, share key technical information and update recent findings.
“Evans—” Cashill kicked things off in his usual gruff way “—what d’you have on the ELMS?”
Drew Evans and his team oversaw examination of the Electrical Load Management System, which distributed, monitored and protected electrical power to the aircraft. The system had the capability to record equipment failures and circuit faults going back some fifty flights.
“We’re still reviewing all the fault logs.”
“Did you find any anomalies?”
“Nothing so far.”
Next, Cashill went to Scott Severs for an update on data. Severs was examining the quick access recorder, which kept track of far more information than the flight data and cockpit recorders. The QAR, as it was known, provided a comprehensive record of some fourteen hundred aspects of the aircraft, and it did so for a longer period of time.
“What’s the QAR telling us, Severs?”
“Not a whole heck of a lot so far. We’ve looked at preflight, taxi and takeoff. All normal there. The initial climb was without incident. Autopilot and autothrottle presented no problems. While cruising, all systems functioned normally until the event began over the Catskills.”
“That’s when the safety features of the flight-management system were disabled,” Cashill said, “and the captain took manual control of the aircraft.”
“That’s correct.”
“Any indication of turbulence?” Cashill turned to Wendy Case, who handled weather systems.
“Nothing on radar and no flights in that sector within that window of time reported turbulence.”
“Right, but we know that clear-air turbulence is not visible on radar.”
Cashill turned to Irene Zimm.
“Irene, I understand you have an update. What can you tell us?”