###
Norton kept the Argosy in one place as well as he could. They’d established contact with the jet over the VHF radio and had looped in the dive boat, as well. The plane still had to offload fuel to make the ditching more survivable, but Norton had his doubts that would do much good. It was getting later in the day, and the sea state was starting to destabilize. The swells were inching more toward seven feet with twelve seconds between each rise. The winds were still relatively light at around fifteen knots, but they would likely increase with the barometric pressure. When trying to land in a deteriorating sea, the wind speed could make all the difference.
“So if you had to ditch, how would you do it?” Lennon asked.
Norton had been wondering that himself. “I’d look for a decent swell and try to land either on it or right behind it. That would mean a crosswind landing though, and that’s going to be kind of tough. Remember, airplanes are designed to land on runways, not water.”
Lennon nodded. The tender was already in the water, tied up behind the larger vessel. The dive boat had its rubber-hulled inflatables in the water as well. Everyone was ready to go.
Norton transferred the controls to the flybridge station. “Let’s do this from topside. Visibility is better up there.”
“Understood.” Lennon followed him to the gangway.
Norton sprinted up the steps. He pushed open the flybridge door and hurried to the helm station. He’d left the engines in idle, and the boat had already started to drift. He advanced the throttles, giving the yacht enough thrust to push through the next swell.
Thunder roared, and he looked up in time to see Corbett’s silver Gulfstream G650 rumble past at about one thousand feet. Even though it was more than a mile out, it was still trailing fuel vapor. Its flaps were up, and he made the airspeed to be about two hundred knots. The plane was just shy of a hundred feet long, so at that speed, it seemed to be flying ridiculously slow. That it wouldn’t be slowing down much more for the ditch was unsettling.
Norton clenched his teeth. His throat felt dry, and his hands were suddenly slick on the stainless-steel wheel. Lennon moved to stand beside him. Neither of them said anything.
###
“Hey, those guys weren’t kidding,” Reese said, watching the big airplane lazily rumble past. He and the others stood on the dive boat’s short bow, clutching the railing as the catamaran rose and fell with the sea.
“What the hell is it doing?” Renee asked, shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun. “It looks like it’s leaving a trail of something.”
“Probably toilet water,” Plosser said.
“It’s fuel,” Bates told them. “They’re offloading fuel so the jet isn’t so heavy when it hits the drink.”
“Can it float?” Reese asked.
Bates shrugged. “Only if it doesn’t break apart. If it does, we’ll probably just wind up fishing out bodies.”
Reese snorted. “Or zombies.”
###
Corbett spotted the boats. He had already been informed that another vessel had joined the recovery mission, a boat from one of the Los Angeles police agencies. That was fine by him, the more the merrier. The people on the jet would need all the help they could get. The Gulfstream banked into a turn and made another pass over the water. Then another, and another, still venting fuel. After almost ten minutes of circling, the vapor trails disappeared, and the pilots closed the fuel dump valves.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain. We’re ready to put it down. At this time, you need to get into your brace positions and stay there. I’ll let you know when we’re about to touch the water. Those without seats, try to brace yourselves as well as you can, with your backs pressed against any bulkheads. Stow everything that’s loose and could fly. Parents, keep a firm hold on your children and ensure they’re all facing the rear of the aircraft.”
A ripple of fear ran through the cabin. Corbett was afraid too, not because he might die, but because so many of the other people on the jet probably would.
The plane turned once again, then the engines lowered into idle. The Gulfstream began to descend.
###
“Argosy, we’re going to make an attempt now,” the Gulfstream’s pilot over the VHF. “We’ll do our best to splash down as close to you as we possibly can. Looking to do this in three minutes. Over.”
Norton picked up the mike. “Roger, Gulfstream. Dive Boat One, you copy that? Over.”
“Argosy, we got it. We’re launching our boats. You should do the same. Over.”
“Guys, get out into the water,” Lennon said into the microphone on his Peltor headset. “Jet’s going to ditch in about three mikes.”
Seconds later, Norton saw the tender racing past the slowly-moving Pacific Mariner. The three Marines aboard it wore bulky horse-collar life preservers. More of the safety devices bounced around between the seats. The little tender jumped out about fifty meters ahead and to the left of the Argosy’s bow, where it bobbed in the rolling waves. Norton was glad to be aboard the yacht. Sitting in the tender would be murder.
The Gulfstream made another pass then banked into a tight one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. The aircraft flew another circle, and as it came out of the downwind turn, the engines dropped back into idle.
“What the hell is he doing?” Lennon asked, his voice tight.
“He’s dumping velocity,” Norton explained. “He has to ditch with the flaps up. Otherwise, the plane will bury its nose once it touches the water. He has to make just enough airspeed to retain control, but not enough to keep flying.”
“Thanks for the flying lesson, Orville.”
“Hey, asshole, you want me to iron palm you again? This time, I might break your sternum.”
“Yeah, you can try that later. But this time, you’ll get a broken elbow for your trouble.” Lennon leaned forward so he could see the jet more clearly.
Norton did the same, keeping his hand on the throttles, ready to push them forward once the jet was down. The plane came in nose high, as if flaring for a normal landing. Norton’s guts coiled up. He snatched up the radio handset to warn them, but just before the tail touched the water, the nose dropped. The wings rocked from side to side as the aircrew tried to read the wave patterns. While they didn’t want the tail to strike the water first, burying a wingtip would be just as disastrous. The G650 was in ground effect, floating on a cushion of air that built up between the wings and the irregular, always moving waves beneath them. To Norton, the giant airplane appeared to be barely crawling, and he was sure the pilots were going crazy as the stall horns sounded.
In an explosion of mist, the jet touched down, wings perfectly level. It left a huge rooster tail of water behind it, and for an instant, Norton thought it was probably the most expensive single-run carnival ride ever invented. The Argosy’s bow dipped as she started rolling down the swell she had just crested, and he lost sight of the jet for an instant.
When the bow started to come up again, he saw the plane was still in motion, riding the top of a swell like a huge surfboard. The right wing rose high as the swell broke beneath the jet, and Norton was certain the left wing would stab into the face of the next swell, causing the jet to tumble. But even when one of the broad flaps was ripped off the left wing, the plane stayed just above the surface. The T-tail was snapping back and forth from all the torquing, then the vertical stabilizer’s main spar fragmented. Thirty feet of empennage tumbled across the water, disintegrating as it skipped and jumped. Water plowed over the front of the jet when it drove into the back of another swell. Bits and pieces of the airplane glittered in the water, and even over the booming sounds of multiple impacts, Norton heard the big Rolls Royce jet engines winding down as their fuel supply was cut off.
Finally, the Gulfstream came to a shuddering halt and began listing to the left.
“Let’s go!” Lennon shouted.
Norton was already advancing the throttles. The Pacific Mariner’s twin diesels roared, and the ya
cht’s bow rose into the air as it accelerated, leaving a churn of white foam in its wake.
###
Hailey crashed into Corbett with almost enough force to knock him out. Corbett felt a burst of pain in one of his hands as he tried and failed to catch the officer before he slammed into the partition that separated the VIP cabin from the larger main cabin.
People screamed, and children cried when the airplane hit the water and began disintegrating. The number one engine on Corbett’s side of the aircraft flamed out immediately as it ingested water, and he could actually hear the engine tearing itself apart as the fans broke up. From the lavatory came a horrendous cracking sound, and the entire airplane seemed to be wagging from the tail.
Then, the bizarre gyrations abruptly ceased. Corbett called out to Arthur Norton, but if there was a response, he didn’t hear it. The cabin lights flickered then went out. The emergency lights on the floor blinked on. The compartment above Corbett’s seat popped open, and the oxygen mask dropped and swung wildly almost hitting him in the head. Another reason to adopt the crash position like they told you to do—
After a tremendous final jolt, the jet came to an almost gentle halt. Its frame creaked and groaned, and Corbett could smell sea air coming in from an opening somewhere. He also heard the trickle of water seeping into the cabin. Then, the trickle suddenly became a flood.
“Open the emergency exits!” Corbett shouted, unbuckling his harness and seat belt. His right hand hurt like hell, and he thought it might be broken.
Mike Hailey was in worse shape, lying on the floor in a fetal position, not moving. Beatrice Norton was clutching her left side, while simultaneously screaming and vomiting. Suzy Kuruk unfastened her belt and turned to Beatrice. She looked torn as she tried to render assistance to the other women while constantly glancing at the motionless Hailey a few feet away. Jock Sinclair was bleeding from the temple, but he was still alert and moving. Meredith was already half out of her seat.
“Help me with Hailey!” Corbett told her.
From the main cabin came a flurry of activity. As Corbett tried to get up, he realized his seat had shifted backward because the flooring had torn loose.
Stillson fumbled with the T-release for one of the emergency exits. The man wrestled it out then yanked the window inward. He angled it and tossed it outside, just as a gout of water poured in through the opening. Ignoring the intrusion, he moved to the next emergency window exit and opened that one as well.
“There’s water coming in from the back!” Arthur Norton yelled as he emerged from the lavatory. He was absolutely soaked with seawater.
“Arthur, help Suzy with your wife!” Corbett said. He bent over, hooked his hands under Hailey’s armpits, and tried to haul the man to his feet. Hailey moaned but didn’t open his eyes. Corbett kept at it, ignoring the excruciating agony in his right hand.
“Don’t move him!” Sinclair shouted. “He might have a broken neck, or worse!”
Water started flooding in from the rear, rushing through the VIP cabin from the lavatory. Corbett surmised the baggage door had been ripped away.
“No time to check him out. We have to get him out of here!” Corbett dragged Hailey into the main cabin. Martin Kennedy was on his way out of the left exit, and Stillson was crawling through the right.
Danielle appeared at Corbett’s side. “I’ve got him.” She grabbed Hailey, the muscles of her arms bulging. Her clothes were soaked, and Corbett realized he was standing in cold, ankle-deep water. Danielle hauled Hailey toward one of the open windows.
Her father was standing on the other side, and he leaned in, sputtering as a wave crashed over him. “Pass him to me!” he shouted. “I can put him in the raft!”
“You can’t do it by yourself!” Sinclair said. “Wait. Let me get out to help!” The British journalist pushed past the clutch of frantic people and stepped through the emergency exit, joining Martin on the wing. He immediately slipped on the slick metal wing and disappeared from sight, then he reappeared a moment later. “Okay!”
Corbett and Danielle passed Hailey through, handing him off to the two men. Other people started pushing their way out. One woman inflated her life vest too soon, and she got hung up in one of the exits for a few tense seconds, as others screamed for her to get clear.
“Keep calm!” Corbett thundered, even though the water was up to his knees.
He spotted Lennon’s wife and two kids standing near one of the exits. They were all battered, and one of the kids was shrieking in fear. Corbett splashed over to her, and she looked at him with dull eyes. There was a large lump forming on her forehead. The plane was starting to list to the rear, and Corbett knew for certain the baggage compartment was taking on gallons of water every second.
“Mary, step out of the exit,” he told her firmly. “Get out and let me pass the kids to you.”
“All right,” she said softly. She moved through the opening.
“It’ll be slick out there! Be careful!” he said.
She didn’t fall, but someone grabbed her from behind. Then, a full-faced man with several days of razor stubble appeared. Another man loomed right behind him, his blue eyes as icy as the water, as if climbing onto a sinking jet was just another day at the office. Corbett didn’t recognize either of them.
“Reese and Bates, LAPD,” the first man said. “Pass me the kids, old timer. Then you might want to consider following because this fancy jet is about to become a submarine.”
###
The copilot went down with the wreck. He had been unconscious in his seat, and his harness release had jammed. By the time they’d discovered him, the water in the forward part of the cabin was chest high, and no one could cut him free before the Gulfstream slipped beneath the surface. One of Corbett’s security officers, a middle-aged former Marine NCO named Holgan, had died sometime during the plane’s fall into the water. He had already reanimated by the time Lennon’s people and the cops had made a final sweep through the jet. One of the cops had popped him in the face to finish the job.
There were several injuries. Norton’s mother had broken some ribs during the ditching. One of the security team members on the Argosy was a Navy corpsman. He helped Beatrice a little, but she really needed a doctor. Several people suffered concussions. Stillson fractured his pelvis, and one of the children had a broken arm. Corbett’s hand was swelling up nicely despite being iced. That hadn’t helped improve the old man’s mood.
Due to his mother’s injuries, Norton sacrificed the master stateroom to his parents. That was the place where the ride would be the most comfortable, and the corpsman said his mother needed to remain as still as possible.
Norton was relieved to see Danielle alive and well. She’d even managed to keep her prosthesis with her. He was a little less pleased to discover the Bookers and the Sinclairs had come along, but the boat was big, so he probably wouldn’t be seeing much of them.
The cops had been a little put out to discover that the plane was not carrying a high-ranking government official, but they still invited Norton and his augmented group to Santa Rosa Island, where several settlements had been created.
Corbett firmly declined the offer, but he asked for radio frequencies for later contact. The old man promised to make it up to the cops for their assistance. When pressed about how he would manage that, Corbett refused to answer.
After spending some time with his family, Lennon joined Norton in the pilothouse. He handed him a laminated piece of paper. Neatly printed on the encased paper was:
32.511639, -130.589518
Norton looked at the grizzled former Marine officer. “Coordinates?”
Lennon nodded. “Can you get us there?”
Norton turned to the electronic chart plotter and typed in the variables. “Dude, that’s out in the Pacific. Like, five hundred miles out into the Pacific.”
“Can you get us there?” Lennon asked again.
Norton did some mental calculations. “That’s a long haul. We’ll have t
o travel at reduced planing speed, maybe even just displacement speed. It’s going to take a couple of days. And we’ll need to set up watches.”
“We can do that,” Lennon said.
“Any of your guys have real bluewater experience? Because the last thing we want to do is pop the hull by driving into a whale.”
“Yes, Mr. Norton. We have bluewater experience. Do we have enough fuel for the trip?”
“Yes, as long as we don’t firewall the throttles and go for broke. When do you want to leave?”
“Right away,” Lennon said.
“Damn, guy. What are we going out there for anyway?”
Lennon turned and looked over at Corbett, who was seated at the dining settee at the rear of the pilothouse. Corbett looked like hell, and Norton knew why. Victor had fallen, and as much as Norton hated to hear the news, he knew it was about ten times worse for Corbett.
“Just get us there, Norton,” Corbett said tiredly. His hand had been taped up, but he had refused anything for the pain aside from Tylenol, even though his fingers were starting to turn blue from the swelling. “Just get us there, and see for yourself.”
Norton shrugged and dropped the waypoint on the chart plotter. “Will do. Is everyone ready? Tender’s been secured, right?”
Lennon nodded. “It has.”
“And everyone’s aboard who needs to be?”
“Yes, Norton. We’re all here.”
“What about my camera?”
Corbett snorted. “It’s at the bottom of the ocean.”
Norton clucked his tongue. “Expensive loss for me, old man.”
“Try losing a Gulfstream G650.” Corbett sighed and eased back on the cushions. “Or an entire town.”
Norton thought about telling Corbett he knew all about that, but he turned back to the instruments instead. He set the power for sixteen knots, the yacht’s displacement speed. The big Pacific Mariner came around almost due west and got underway, leaving a wake of foam as it sailed away from the California coastline.
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