"It was a new aircraft," she said, "and all aircraft have problems when they're first introduced. You can't build a machine with a million parts and not have snags. We do everything we can to avoid them. First we design, then we test the design. Then we build, then we flight test. But there are always going to be problems. The question is how to resolve them."
"How do you resolve them?"
"Whenever we discover a problem, we send the operators a heads-up, called a Service Bulletin, which describes our recommended fix. But we don't have the authority to mandate compliance. Some carriers implement, some don't If the problem persists, the FAA gets into the act and issues an Airworthiness Directive to the carriers, requiring them to fix the planes in service within a specified time. But there are always ADs, for every model aircraft. We're proud of the fact that Norton has fewer than anyone else."
"So you say."
"Go look it up. They're all on file at Oak City."
"At what?"
"Every AD that's ever been issued is on file at the FAA's Technical Center in Oklahoma City."
"So you had one of these ADs on the N-22? Is that what you're telling me?"
"We issued a Service Bulletin recommending the carriers install a hinged metal cover that sits over the lever. That meant the captain had to flip up the cover before he could deploy the slats, but it solved the problem. As usual, some carriers made the fix, others didn't. So the FAA issued an AD making it mandatory. That was four years ago. There's been only one incident since then, but that involved an Indonesian carrier who didn't install the cover. In this country, the FAA requires carriers to comply, but abroad…" She shrugged. "The carriers do what they want."
"That's it? That's the whole history?"
"That's the whole history. The IRT investigated, the metal covers were installed on the fleet, and there haven't been any more slats problems on the N-22."
"Until now," Richman said.
"That's right. Until now."
LAX MAINTENANCE HANGAR
1:22 pm.
"A what?" Kenny Burne said, shouting from the cockpit of Transpacific 545. "They said it was what!"
"Uncommanded slats deployment," Richman said.
"Aw, blow me," Burne said. He started climbing out of the seat. "What a crock of shit. Hey! Clarence, come in here. See that seat? That's the first officer's seat. Sit down there."
Richman was hesitant.
"Come on, Clarence, get in the damn seat."
Awkwardly, Richman squeezed between the other men in the cockpit, and got into the first officer's chair on the right.
"Okay," Burne said. "You comfy in there, Clarence? You're not a pilot, by any chance?"
"No," Richman said.
"Okay, good. So, here you are, all set to fly the plane. Now, you see straight ahead"-he pointed to the control panel directly in front of Richman, which consisted of three video screens, each four inches square-"you got your three color CRTs showing your primary flight display, navigation display, and on the left, systems display. All those little semicircles represent a different system. All green, meaning everything's fine. Now, on the roof above your head, that's your overhead instrument panel. All the lights are out, which means everything is fine. It's dark unless there's a problem. Now, to your left is what we call the pedestal."
Burne pointed to a boxy structure that protruded between the two seats. There were a half-dozen levers in slots on the pedestal. "Now, from right to left, flaps-slats, two throttles for the engines, spoilers, brakes, thrusters. Slats and flaps are controlled by that lever nearest you, the one with the little metal cover over it. See it?"
"I see it," Richman said.
"Good. Flip up the cover, and engage the slats."
"Engage the…"
"Pull the slats lever down," Burne said.
Richman flicked up the cover, and struggled for a moment to move the lever.
"No, no. Grab it firmly, pull it up, then right, then down," Burne said. "Just like a gearshift on a car."
Richman closed his fingers around the handle. He pulled the lever up, across, and down. There was a distant hum.
"Good," Burne said. "Now, look at your display. See that amber SLATS EXTD indicator? It's telling you the slats are coming out of the leading edge. Okay? Takes twelve seconds to fully extend. Now they're out, and the indicator is white and says SLATS."
"I see," Richman said.
"Okay. Now retract the slats."
Richman reversed his actions, pushing the lever up, sliding it left and down to locked position, then closing the cover over the handle.
"That," Bume said, "is a commanded slats extension."
"Okay," Richman said.
"Now, let's perform an uncommanded slats extension."
"How do I do that?"
"Any way you can, pal. For starters, hit it with the side of 'your hand."
Richman reached across the pedestal, brushing the lever with his left hand. But the cover protected it. Nothing happened.
"Come on, hit that sucker."
Richman swung his hand laterally back and forth, banging against the metal. He hit it harder and harder each time, but nothing happened. The cover protected the handle; the slats lever remained up and locked.
"Maybe you could knock it with your elbow," Burne said. "Or tell you what, try this clipboard here," he said, pulling a clipboard from between the seats, and giving it to Richman. "Go on, give it a good whack. I'm looking for an accident here."
Richman struck the lever with the clipboard. It clanged against the metal. He turned the clipboard and pushed the lever with one edge. Nothing happened.
"You want to keep trying?" Burne said. "Or are you starting to get the point? It can't be done, Clarence. Not with that cover in place."
"Maybe the cover wasn't in place," Richman said.
"Hey," Burne said, "that's good thinking. Maybe you can knock the cover up, by accident. Try that with your clipboard, Clarence."
Richman swung the clipboard at the edge of the cover. But the surface was smoothly curved, and the clipboard just slid off. The cover remained closed.
"No way to do it," Burne said. "Not by accident. So. What's the next thought?"
"Maybe the cover was already up."
"Good idea," Burne said. "They're not supposed to be flying with the cover up, but who the hell knows what they did. Go ahead and lift die cover up."
Richman lifted the cover up on its hinge. The handle was now exposed.
"Okay, Clarence. Go to it."
Richman swung his clipboard at the handle, banging it hard, but with most lateral movements, the raised cover still acted as a protection. The clipboard hit die cover before it struck the handle. Several times on impact, the cover dropped back down again. Richman had to keep stopping to lift the cover up again before he could proceed.
"Maybe if you used your hand," Burne suggested.
Richman tried swiping at the handle with his palm. In a few moments, the side of his hand was red, and the lever remained firmly up and locked.
"Okay," he said, sitting back in the seat. "I get the point."
"It can't be done," Bume said. "It simply can't be done. An uncommanded slats deploy is impossible on this aircraft. Period."
From outside the cockpit, Doherty said, "Are you guys finished screwing around? Because I want to pull the recorders and go home."
As they came out of the cockpit, Burne touched Casey on the shoulder and said, "See you a minute?"
"Sure," she said.
He led her back in the plane, out of earshot of the others. He leaned close to her and said, "What do you know about that kid?"
Casey shrugged. "He's a Norton relative."