by Georgia Rose
Looking up I caught three startled faces staring at me. This was not the plan, they knew that. I tried to explain and reassure them that everything would be fine. I tried not to meet their eyes. I used extra ties on Orlov to make sure he was going nowhere, and remembered to separate him from his knife. At last I was done and went over to Grace. She tried to stand but I stopped her, bending to her level and hugging her tightly for a moment, tears coming to my eyes which I tried to blink away.
I whispered in her ear, “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you know how to...” and I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. I felt her shake her head against my shoulder. It had always been unlikely, but I had to ask. Then I released her and hugged each of the children before encouraging them to sit back down and strap themselves in tightly with their lap-straps.
Sophia, dirty and exhausted, her voice tight with emotion, asked, “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know how to fly?”
“Absolutely,” I reassured her, not trusting my voice to stay firm enough to say anything further as I smiled at them all before turning and heading back to the yawning door that led to the cockpit, closing it firmly behind me.
Chapter 10
I climbed into the seat recently vacated by Orlov and fastened the four-point safety harness around me, trying to put off the moment when I would have to think about the huge mess I was in. When I was fully secure I looked out of the cockpit window and took in the view of the beautiful dawn sky as soft pinks merged with deeper purples. The early morning sun was making its first appearance, shyly casting warm golden fingers over a waking earth. The sky was lightening and in time looked likely to become a solid blue, the few puffs of cloud present unlikely to survive the heat the sun was promising. Well, I thought, feeling a little light-headed, it’s a lovely day for it. I couldn’t face what the “it” might be, and I didn’t look down.
I picked up the headset and pulled it on until it settled comfortably over my ears. Not knowing what to do, I rather hesitantly called “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday” into the mouthpiece. I jumped as I heard a woman’s voice.
“This is Area Radar, we are receiving you loud and clear. Confirm squawk identity. Over.”
“I don’t know what that is. My name is Emma Grayson, and I’m in a plane. I don’t know what sort it is or where I am, but we’ve been taken hostage. By ‘we’ I mean me and Grace...sorry Lady Cavendish and her children, and now I’ve taken over the plane but I’m not a pilot...Over?” I made it sound like a question as I wasn’t sure if I was meant to end with that or not, but thought I’d follow her lead. I also realised I was gabbling and wondered what my mystery voice would make of it.
“State location of pilot. Over.”
“He’s tied up in the back. I knocked him out and now I need help. Over.” I was getting the hang of it.
“Why did you knock him out? Over.”
“He was threatening to crash the plane because he wouldn’t take us where we wanted to go. Over.”
Silence filled the airwaves as I waited, feeling better for having made some contact with the outside world.
“Grayson, you are flying a Victor Two Two Osprey aircraft. We are tracking you on radar. Over.”
Relief flowed through me that at least they knew where we were. “You should know I’m not flying this plane. It’s on autopilot and I’m sitting in it. There is no pilot on board who is conscious and I need help. Over.”
“Grayson, stand by. I will come back to you.”
At least there wasn’t any music to listen to. The silence was total and stretched out interminably, though in reality she was probably back within thirty seconds.
“Grayson, jets are scrambled to intercept and will be with you shortly. I say again, help is on its way. Over.”
“Thank you!”
Hugely relieved at the thought that help was on the way, I thought I’d better familiarise myself with the controls. I had to face the fact that I was going to have to fly the plane. My stomach lurched at the prospect.
“Grayson?” Her tone softer now.
“Yes,” I muttered, stomach lurching as I tried to concentrate on the dials in front of me.
“Would you like to talk to me until help arrives?”
“Thanks, but I’m going to use the time to find my way round the controls. Don’t go far though, will you?”
“I’ll be right here.”
Time to get to work. I stared at the dials in front of me. I needed to give myself something to do. The harness restrained my body as I rocked against it, back and forth, back and forth. I didn’t want to think about how high up we were. I’d never had a particular problem with heights, but there are heights and then there are heights, and this situation involved the latter.
I tried to concentrate on the task in hand. Looking out of the cockpit, I noticed that the misshapen pods on the end of the wings had turned through ninety degrees, so that what had previously looked like helicopter blades were now like the propeller blades on a plane.
I brought my attention back to the cockpit. Focusing on the controls around me, I tried to think practically. I could drive, so how much harder could this be? There was a big open sky – and all I had to worry about was not hitting the ground. I peered at the dials in front of me, skittering from one to another. Most of the dials made no sense to me, though several of them had labels under them which were useful. The labels were strips of red plastic with the letters punched into them, and I recalled one of my foster-fathers, an engineer of some sort, having a machine that made these, and I remembered getting into a lot of trouble one day when I’d used it to punch out all the rude words I knew.
I leant forward and peered at these labels. I found the fuel gauge and was reassured to see it registered at over three quarters full. The autopilot button was similarly marked. I’d seen enough films to know the main controlling thing was the joystick bit immediately in front of me and between my legs, but, as I looked at the other dials, labelled or otherwise, I didn’t think they were going to be of any help at all.
“Hello, Em.” Trent’s voice, deep in my ears, was like silk flowing over my shattered nerves, soothing and comforting. My eyes closed and I exhaled, letting my head drop back against the headrest.
“Hello,” I mumbled, feeling overcome and close to tears.
“I bet your heart is beating that little bit faster now, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t help but smile as I was reminded of a conversation we’d had the previous year when he’d caught me galloping on the stubble.
“I prefer my own controllable thrills,” I said.
“Open your eyes, Em...look at me.”
Look at me? My eyes jolted open. I looked around. There he was, out of my side window, a little lower than me in the rear seat of a jet. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see if it really was him. He pushed up his blacked-out visor and grinned at me. I sat staring, open-mouthed. Well, of course he would be able to fly, wouldn’t he, though the thought had never crossed my mind before. I heard myself say feebly, and somewhat unnecessarily, “You can fly?” I’d always assumed it was Cavendish that flew the Apache. I’d never thought further than that.
“Yes, Em, though technically I’m not actually flying. That’s being done by my RAF friend in front. Sadly my days of flying planes like these are over.”
“Is it just you?”
“Why...am I suddenly not enough for you?” he teased lightly. “Sorry, probably not the right time for levity. No, Cavendish is on the way. I left him with the paperwork, plus he’s always been a bit slow off the mark.”
The banter felt good, as if I wasn’t in a precarious situation at all. His voice softened as he asked, “How badly are you hurt, Em?”
I brushed it off. “I’m fine. A little battered and bruised, but nothing serious. And you?...What happened?”
“I’m fine...I’ll fill you in when we’ve more time.”
Seconds later I heard, “Morning, Tiger.” I looked over to see Cavendish on
my other side, and put my hand up to wave. “How’s the family?”
“They’re fine. Grace is conscious again, but still a little weak. The children are obviously scared, but they’re okay.” This brought my situation home to me. I swallowed with some difficulty and asked, “Can you get us down from here?” I sounded pathetic.
“Of course we can. There’s no problem with that, Em.” And Trent was so positive it lifted my spirits immediately, though I still wasn’t sure how it was going to be possible.
“But...how? I don’t know how to fly this thing.”
“Flying is quite straightforward, Em. We’ll keep it basic, I’ll talk you through it.”
Straightforward? That seemed unlikely, but I let out a deep breath. “Okay...let’s get on with it then.”
“That’s my girl.”
Trent chuckled as Cavendish said, “Grayson, I’m going to leave Trent to guide you so as not to confuse you, but I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks, Cavendish.”
“Okay, Grayson,” Trent began, “let’s get you home. I’m going to give you a guided tour of the basics. The joystick in front of you does all the steering of the plane. Left and right are obvious, push it forward for down and pull it back towards you for up. So we’re going to have a practice by turning this aircraft around.”
“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“That’s all you need to know for now – I told you it was simple. Can you see the switch in front of you marked ‘autopilot’?”
“Yes.”
“Flick it off, and you’ll feel a change through the joystick as soon as you take control.”
I leant across and gingerly flicked the switch. The plane dipped suddenly. My stomach followed suit.
“Very gently, Grayson, pull the joystick a little towards you and lift her up.”
I followed his instructions, surprised at how responsive the controls were. I felt better once we were back on what felt like an even keel again.
“That’s great. Okay, time to turn around, Grayson.”
“What about you? I don’t want to hit either of you.”
“Don’t worry about us, we’ll keep out of your way.”
Okay then, I thought, time to make my first manoeuvre. I swung the joystick to the left. The plane reacted far quicker than I thought it would, banking round at a steep angle. Out of my window I saw the jet swoop out of the way as we went into a nosedive.
Trent spoke quickly. “Steady there, Grayson, a little lighter on the controls. Ease back on the joystick to bring the nose back up.”
“Okay,” I said shakily. I did as he said, the plane levelling out as we turned in a wider circle. I took a deep breath, found the sun behind us, and levelled off again when told to do so. I felt considerably better once I was pointing in the direction of home, and pleased to see Trent and Cavendish back in position on either side of me. They might not have been able to help physically, but I felt safer having them there as my escorts.
“Well done, Emma” came the warm voice again. I risked a quick look over at him and he gave me a thumbs-up. I smiled to myself. I can do this, I thought, though that was tempered with another that lurked in the back of my mind. Don’t think about what’s to come.
I needed to relax, but couldn’t. Though I was exhausted with exertion and lack of sleep, my body was as taut as a piano wire. I could feel the stiffness and tension through my arms, shoulders and back. My head pounded from dehydration, lack of sleep and the knocks it had received. The skin around one eye was tight and swollen. I could feel blood encrusted along my eyebrow, and on my skin where it had run down my face. The arm of my jacket was soaked through with blood, though I no longer appeared to be bleeding, and I could feel my clothes sticking to the knife-wound as the blood dried in the chill of the cockpit. My flesh was bruised black and purple around the wound in my leg. I was filthy, stinking and tired beyond belief.
“You okay, Emma? You’ve gone quiet on me.” Trent’s anxious voice woke me from my dazed state.
I was afraid of asking the question, but I had to know. “How is everyone?” I faltered.
“Everyone’s fine, Em,”
Really? Could that honestly be true?
“Carlton?” I’d left him behind, a decision he hadn’t even questioned.
“He’s fine. He’s waiting for us back at Loreley.”
“Back at where?” I frowned.
“RAF Loreley, it’s the closest station to Melton. It’s where we flew out of. Do you remember, Em? Do you remember me telling you we had a small transport aircraft?”
I did. “This is it? Your aircraft?”
“Yes. We have a hanger on the station.”
“Then where’s Turner? You said Turner flew this plane.”
“Yes. They targeted Turner, Em. They used him to get them on to the estate, then we believe they took him off to arrange access to RAF Loreley. He must have filed a flight plan, made it all legitimate, otherwise an aircraft being taken would be shot down immediately. Ideally they needed him, though any one of us pilots would have sufficed.”
A flash of an image came to me, seen from the corner of my eye. The back of the aircraft opening, a body rolled up and out of the gap, hitting the ground heavily and not moving. “Oh my God,” I gasped, “oh my God, Trent – Turner?”
“Yes, they dropped him when they’d finished with him...”
Not giving him time to explain, I butted in. “And is he...is he...?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question.
“He’s alive, Em, but in bad shape. In time he’ll be fine.”
“And Porter?” My voice was barely more than a whisper as I remembered his falling body.
“Also fine,” Trent reassured me. “There are a few injuries, Em, I won’t lie, but that’s all, and none of them life-threatening. We’ll have a full debrief when we get you home.”
I was surprised the estate could have held out against such an attack without losing anyone, and I hoped he wasn’t just telling me what I wanted to hear, but I was going to have to deal with that later. We were on a steady course now and I needed to know what was coming up.
He interrupted my thoughts again. “Em, you okay? Shall we talk about something else?”
“I’m fine, I need to keep focused, that’s all. How much longer is it before we’re back?”
“Another half an hour or so.”
“Okay...Start telling me how to land this thing.”
“We could leave it a while yet.”
“No, tell me now so I can think it through.” I heard his resigned sigh, but knew he wouldn’t refuse.
He told me how I would have to raise the turbo-prop engines to helicopter mode, by using the lever to my left, explaining how this would allow the plane’s avionics to keep it steady as we descended slowly. Then he instructed me on reducing the engine power and how to approach a vertical landing. He talked me through it all once: what I’d see ahead of me on the runway, what to aim for, how to lower the undercarriage, how to bring the plane down while keeping its nose up, how to reduce speed while still flying and what to do once on the ground.
I couldn’t wait to get there, impatient to feel this beast come to a stop beneath me. Trent came to the end of his explanation and I made him repeat it, running through it again, and again. I’d felt the weight of the plane now in my hands, I knew how it felt to control it. As Trent ran through the instructions again I closed my eyes, imagining the landing, how it would feel as we touched down. I ran through each instruction in my mind, my fuzzy brain almost hallucinating, the images, the feelings so vividly real that, as I opened my eyes, disappointment washed over me because we weren’t already on the tarmac. The instructions ran as if on a loop, over and over in my mind, overlapping with Trent’s words. Then in the distance I realised I could see the runway.
I had to do this one thing, this one last thing, and it would all be over and I could sleep forever, I thought. My exhausted mind started to wander, bringing thou
ghts of my angel. I imagined her with me, sitting with me. I could picture her as clearly as if she’d never left me, smiling and warm and waiting for me. Home already, I thought, smiling at Eva. Flashing blue lights highlighted the runway. They looked like fairy lights in the hazy dawn air, but I realised they were the lights of the fire engines, the police cars and ambulances lined up in readiness for a catastrophe.
Eva disappeared as it suddenly hit me that this was not a game or some form of make believe. I really was going to have to do this. And I couldn’t. My hands and fingers gripped the control stick with all their might, my arms rigid as the words ran through my mind. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this. I began gasping as panic seized me. Tears wet my face and I clamped one hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the sound…I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this...not realising I was saying it out loud.
My panic was broken by Trent barking, “Grayson! Snap out of it, do you hear me? Come back to me. Grayson! Answer me!” His demands were loud and clear as I gasped, my head spinning as I tried to focus on his words.