“I’ll need to talk this over with Donovan.” John gave the overhead panel a disdainful glance while shaking his head. “Okay, I know what you’re saying. It’s worth a try if that’s all we have.” He listened further. “It’ll take us a little bit to get everything situated. How about we call you back in a couple of minutes.” After a moment, John disconnected the line. He let out a long breath. “This is going to sound totally insane—but it could actually work.”
“What are they saying to do?” Donovan asked.
“They want us to pull out every last circuit breaker. After we’ve done that, we push in a select few—try and reinstate the power we need to shoot an approach. They think it will minimize the risk of fire.”
“But the breakers will just pop out again,” Donovan said.
“Not if we hold them in.”
The flesh on the back of Donovan’s neck tingled. Holding in a circuit breaker that wanted to pop was against every sound principle of safe flying. They were asking for a major electrical fire. The current draw would be enough to weld metal to metal, after which a fire could rage out of control. The cockpit could be engulfed in flames within minutes. “You’re right, that is insane. What about the runway conditions and the weather? What’s the visibility?”
“Henry said the snow removal crew is now concentrating on runway 32 Left. It’s into the wind and 13,000 feet long. They’re trying to get the snow off all the lights so we’ll have something to see. The weather is still the same, we’ll only have 600 feet of visibility.”
Donovan knew that was far below the usual minimums needed for an approach, but what choice did they have? “What else? How do we get the gear down on this thing?”
“We’re not going to bother. With all our structural damage, Henry recommends we do this gear up. I agree with him. If we drop the landing gear we’ll never get it back up without a full hydraulic system, which would compound our problems if we have to go around. Stopping isn’t going to be a problem in all the wind and snow. No gear and no flaps. This is going to be one fast approach.”
“If we’re on fire, coming in fast might not be a bad idea,” Donovan said, as he pictured the scenario.
Keith’s eyes widened as he listened to the two pilots talk and realized the implications. “Excuse me. It doesn’t take an engineer to figure out how dangerous that could be. How much voltage are we talking about?”
John twisted in his seat to look at the Keith. “It’s 115 volts, going down to 28 volts to power the few instruments we need to land. It shouldn’t be too bad.”
“How big are the generators on this thing?” Keith asked, curiosity momentarily taking the place of fear.
“45KVa generators, 400Hz,” John explained.
“That’s enough power to light up a city block!” A frown came over Keith’s face. “Or weld metal.”
“I know.” John nodded his head. “But like we said, it’s not going to be for very long.” John addressed Donovan. “Why don’t you go back, brief Audrey and the others. If Christy is out of commission, we’ll need Audrey to get the cabin ready. They’ll need to get out of this thing fast once we’re down. When you finish, come back and we’ll go through this step by step. Maybe you should grab an extra fire extinguisher while you’re back there. It might come in handy.”
Donovan threw off his harness and squeezed past Keith. His mind was filled with reasons why they shouldn’t do what Henry had suggested, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t see any other alternative. As he ducked away from the jagged shards of aluminum into the rush of freezing air, it served as a grim reminder that the time for playing it safe was probably long gone. He saw the expectant faces of the survivors as he made his way toward them.
“Everyone! I need you to listen very carefully,” Donovan said loudly and looked at everyone except Audrey. “I don’t have much time to explain. We’ve talked to the people on the ground, and they’ve outlined a plan that should get us down. The method we’re going to use has some risks, mainly the threat of fire. We already know that the smoke, if there is any, will be sucked out the rip in the fuselage. It shouldn’t pose a problem for you back here.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Wetzler exploded. “You’re going to risk starting a fire on this plane?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Donovan replied.
“It’s not enough you crash us into another plane, now you want to burn us all alive!”
“Wetzler!” Donovan raised his voice while trying to keep his temper in check. “Knock it off!” Donovan glared at him, then continued with his instructions. “Audrey will be in charge of the emergency evacuation. Listen to her, and do exactly what she tells you. Rafael, I want you to be ready to open the aft doors when we come to a stop. Everyone will need to go out one of those two exits.”
“I need something for my pain,” Wetzler announced. “I want some liquor. Something to take the edge off.”
“The answer is no,” Donovan said. “It’s for your own safety. Just do what you’re told and we’ll be on the ground as soon as we can.” Donovan turned his attention back to Rafael. “Did you get a chance to look at Christy and the others?”
“You were right about Christy, she has a broken collar bone. I also think her shoulder is separated and possibly fractured. There may also be some vertebrae trauma. She’s in a great deal of pain but there’s nothing much I can do.” Rafael lowered his voice. “I also looked at the people who are… unconscious. It’s called anoxia. They didn’t get enough oxygen to their brains. Some died, probably in conjunction with other circumstances. Others are still alive, but only in the most basic sense.”
“What do you mean?” Donovan was afraid he knew exactly what Rafael meant, but he needed a moment for the permanence of the diagnosis to sink in.
“They are brain dead. All higher function is most likely gone forever.”
“Can we help them? Is there anything we can do?” Donovan asked.
Rafael shook his head. “No. They are what they are.”
Donovan glanced at Audrey and found she was staring at him. He tried to convey with his eyes for her to be ready for anything. “Audrey, when we go into the clouds, that’ll be the signal that we’ve started the approach.”
“We’ll be ready back here. What about them?” Audrey gestured at the passengers who were still alive. They’d secured them in their seats and wrapped them in what few blankets they’d found.
“Once we come to a stop, there will be emergency personnel all around the plane. I want each of you to evacuate as fast as you can. Once you’re out of the plane, go toward any emergency person or vehicle you see. They are highly trained and are aware of our situation. We’re going to inform them about the other survivors. Let them get those people out; it’s much safer that way. I’ll see everyone on the ground.”
Donovan moved to the back of the cabin and opened an overhead compartment. He quickly unlatched a fire extinguisher and pulled it from its rack. As he closed the overhead door, he felt Audrey at his side.
“You know what? I think I hate you more now, than I did back then.” Audrey glared at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Donovan looked at her and not only found anger, but maybe even a small measure of perverse delight at figuring out who he was. Her expression burned with both triumph and resolve. He tried to anticipate what she might say next.
“It bothered me from the first moment I saw you. It was impossible, wasn’t it? You’re dead. But the eyes, mannerisms and of course that voice.” Audrey whispered so only he could hear what she was saying. “You goddamned son of bitch!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Donovan knew his protestations were extremely weak—he’d spent far too much time with her. He picked up the fire extinguisher and prepared to leave without saying another word.
“Fine, Donovan. Or should I call you by your real name, Robert? As in Robert Huntington?”
Donovan felt crushed; as if his chest were caught in a vise. It w
as a name he’d buried long ago. “I have to get up front,” Donovan finally managed to say, his grip still on the fire extinguisher. “This isn’t the time or place. When we’re on the ground we’ll talk. But right now I want you to focus on getting out of this airplane. Do you understand me? Don’t worry about anyone else.”
Without waiting for a reply, Donovan hurried back up the aisle. His mind raced as his worst nightmare was unfolding. If Audrey wasn’t willing to keep his secret, then the entire life he’d built would vanish overnight. He ducked down to avoid the sharp metal and was reminded that if they failed at this attempt to land the crippled 737, then it might not matter what Audrey knew.
Donovan handed the extinguisher to Keith and slid into his seat.
“Everything set in back?” John asked.
Audrey’s words echoed and reverberated in Donovan’s mind. After twenty years, how could she still be so angry? A bigger question might be exactly what was she so mad about? For a split second he wished he were still back there, trying to run some kind of damage control. How would he deal with this furious woman from his past—a woman who now held his fate in her hands.
“Donovan? Everything set in back?” John asked again
“Yes. Audrey and Rafael know exactly what to do.” Donovan angrily cinched his harness tight around his lower body, pulling the straps over his shoulders until he was locked down firmly in the seat.
“Let’s get rigged up.” John followed suit and tightened his own straps. “I’ve been thinking about this. There should be three sets of smoke goggles. Everyone needs an oxygen mask.”
Donovan helped Keith get strapped in, the mask and goggles organized. Keith secured the thick insulated gloves.
“Everyone set?” John asked.
Keith swallowed hard. “I guess so.”
“Good. Keith, I want you to find all of the electrical panels behind us and pull out every one of the breakers. We’ll point out the ones you’ll need to push back in once we’re ready to start. Any questions?”
“A bunch, but they can wait until we get on the ground,” Keith said. “You want me to start now?”
John nodded. “Make sure they’re all out.” He then said to Donovan, “Let’s run through the approach itself, what our speed should be, and what we can most likely expect. We’ll need to put on our headsets. That will be the only way to communicate when we have our masks on—providing we get power to the audio panels.”
“What about Keith?” Donovan asked. “Do we have a headset for him?”
“No.” John shook his head. “His job is simple. He has to hold in the main breaker no matter what.”
Donovan was impressed with the way John was handling the situation. He was calm, in command and businesslike. Together they began to review the approach procedure.
“We’ll be coming in from the southeast,” John explained. “As soon as we have power, the VHF radios should work. I’ll need you to set up the frequencies. We can talk to the tower on 120.75. It will take a minute or so for the emergency gyro to spin up. Once it does, we’ll start the approach. We won’t descend into the clouds until everything is stabilized.” John let out a breath. “Have I missed anything?”
“I think you covered it all.” Donovan thought about everything that had been said. “This should work. As long as we have power.”
“I’ll have to fly this thing by hand.” John gave Donovan a solemn look. “We’re not going to get the autopilot back. I don’t have to tell you what a 600 RVR approach looks like.”
Donovan nodded that he understood. John would have to fly a perfect approach; they would see the runway at about the same time they touched down. The margin for error was small. “It’ll be a piece of cake,” Donovan said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll give you all the input I can.”
“Thanks. I’ll need every bit of it.”
Donovan glanced over his shoulder at Keith, who was now wearing insulated gloves, smoke goggles, and holding an oxygen mask. He seemed out of place in the cockpit of a modern jet. A fire extinguisher was at his feet. “Are you ready? Do you have any questions?”
Keith nodded. “The others in the back—is the rear of the plane the safest? I’ve always heard that, but never knew if it was true.”
“In this situation it’s by far the best place,” Donovan replied, but wondered to himself how the 737 would stay together with all the structural damage. He guessed it wouldn’t take very much to snap the weakened fuselage in half and end up skidding down the runway in pieces. Donovan wished he could shake off his thoughts of Audrey, but one simple phrase ran through his mind: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
“Keith, you do exactly what we tell you,” John reiterated. “Nothing more, nothing less. Is that understood?”
“I understand,” Keith said.
Donovan took a moment to watch John. He could almost see and feel the captain’s tension rising. He was aware of his own adrenaline surge, though at this point he didn’t know which he dreaded more. The upcoming approach—or Audrey Parrish.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At the sound of the phone, all conversation in the cab abruptly ceased. Koski quickly punched the button. “Tower.”
“This is 880,” Donovan’s voice announced over the speaker. “We’re ready.”
“Donovan, this is Henry. I take it John is going to be doing the flying and you and I will talk?”
“That’s the plan. All the breakers have been pulled. What we need now is the exact sequence in which you want us to reset them. We’ve got someone up here to help us do all of that. But before we start—what’s the weather, any improvement?”
“It’s about the same, Donovan. RVR is pretty steady now at 600 feet.” Henry fingered the notes he and Tucker had created, checking them for the umpteenth time. “Okay. Are you ready for the sequence?”
Lauren could feel the tension in the cab rising. She crossed her arms and her fingernails dug painfully into the palms of her hands. She’d listened quietly as dozens of fire trucks and ambulances were positioned strategically along the runway. Kate had tried to explain what was happening, while at the same time offering comfort. Lauren was deeply thankful for the woman’s efforts.
“Go ahead. I’m writing it down,” Donovan replied. “We’ll want to locate all the breakers before we start this, make sure we have them identified.”
Henry ran down the list, then stopped and waited as Donovan read everything back. “You’ve got it. That’s the exact sequence we’ve figured out. Within sixty seconds, you should have the instruments you need to start the approach. Radar will have you positioned to intercept the approach course before you push everything in. We’re estimating the time from start to landing at a little over six minutes. That will minimize your exposure to fire.”
“You won’t mind if we try to make it a little faster than that,” Donovan said.
A nervous grin flashed across Lauren’s face. Right now, more than anything, she needed to hear that Donovan sounded confident. It was a sharp contrast to the apprehension that was building within her.
“I understand completely,” Henry said. “I look forward to meeting you.”
Lauren’s attention was drawn across the cab to Devereux. His eyes darted nervously around the room as if he were measuring something. He moved slowly in their direction.
“Let’s have a current altimeter setting, then give us a vector for the intercept,” Donovan said. “And just to make sure, we’ll be able to talk to you on 120.75 when we get everything powered up.”
“That’s correct.” Koski gave them the altimeter setting, then looked at Kate seated at the radarscope, her face focused and determined. He gave her a quick nod.
Kate responded with a practiced professionalism. “Wayfarer 880, turn right to a heading of 150 degrees. This is for a downwind leg to ILS 32 Left,” she explained. “I’m going to turn you on a 25 mile final.”
“Roger, turning to 150 degrees,” Donovan said. “I think 25 miles sounds good. We�
��re still several thousand feet above the clouds here. What altitude do you want us at when we turn all this on?”
“Eight thousand feet, Wayfarer 880,” Kate said.
“Okay, we’re out of ten thousand for eight thousand now.”
“Consider yourself relieved from this operation.” Frank Devereux spoke in a hushed voice to Henry. “You can stay and observe if you like.”
Though Lauren suspected this was coming, the words cut deeply. Frank Devereux had sat back quietly while Henry had both organized and accomplished all that needed to be done. In her mind it was a completely chicken-shit move on the part of Devereux. She watched as Henry’s expression drew taut.
“You can be in charge,” Henry said, as he shot a look of hatred at Devereux. “Just let me get 880 on the ground.”
Devereux recoiled. “You are relieved as of this moment. I have my orders from the top. We both know it’s best.”
“We do, huh?” Henry made no attempt to either lower his voice or hide his anger.
“Fine. It’s all yours. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You’re too emotionally involved right now to be running this,” Devereux sneered, echoing Cyrus’ words.
Lauren glanced around at the personnel in the cab. They had all heard the heated exchange. She could see everyone’s general discomfort at being exposed to what was obviously a political issue.
“If you weren’t being manipulated by Cyrus,” Henry said, pointing his finger at Devereux, “Honestly, would you still be doing this?” Frank looked away, stung, the words producing their intended effect.
“What’s going on down there?” Donovan said over the speaker.
“Donovan, this is Frank Devereux, Vice President of Flight Operations. I’ve just arrived and I’m taking over at this end. Nothing for you has changed. We’ll be turning you shortly for the approach.”
Lauren closed her eyes, shaking her head in frustration. The fate of Donovan and the others was now officially out of Henry’s hands—and with it perhaps her own input. She wondered where Matt was, and if he’d overheard the orders that had led up to this action. Inwardly, she cursed Cyrus and wished Michael had somehow arrived in time to help her with this deteriorating situation.
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