“Meridian Five, what is your status?” the voice boomed over the cockpit speakers, startling Robert MacCabe, who was standing behind the center console and gripping the captain’s empty seat as he surveyed the technological jungle of dials and gauges and lights on the forward panel.
Dan Wade took a ragged breath and punched his Transmit button, talking into the tiny boom microphone he wore. His voice emerged strained and low.
“We’re… ah… stable right now, Hong Kong, but we’re trying to find someone aboard with pilot experience… because I’m… not in good shape.”
“Sorry to ask, Sir, but can you repeat what happened?”
Dan sighed. “I don’t know, Hong Kong. Something exploded just in front of us. It shook the whole airplane, flash-blinded my eyes, and somehow triggered a heart attack or… or something in the captain. I don’t know what it was. I’ve never even heard of anything that bright and painful, other than a nuclear fireball, which is what I said earlier, but I guess it couldn’t have been. Ah… but Hong Kong, the explosion happened just after that unidentified aircraft crossed our path.”
There was a pause from the controller, followed by a singular response that triggered a chill down Dan’s back. “Meridian, we’re missing Global Express Two-Two-Zulu. Is it possible you collided with him?”
Dan swallowed hard, trying to envision the 747 essentially ramming the smaller jet. How could that happen without even depressurizing the cabin? But somehow it must have. It was the only logical explanation, short of some attack.
“Either someone shot a missile at us that exploded in front, or we hit him. If he’s missing, then I’m sure we hit him. But if we’re not damaged…”
“Meridian, are you able to land the airplane, Sir?”
Dan tried to gauge what consequences there might be for speaking the grim truth on an open radio channel. If they couldn’t find another pilot, he would have one option only: use the autoflight system to let the airplane land itself, a maneuver that would require setting up the autopilot and autothrottles perfectly, and standing by to hand-fly a missed approach literally in the blind if anything went wrong.
There was no reason to sugarcoat it, he decided. He couldn’t even open his eyelids, let alone see anything. For now he was a blind man.
“Hong Kong,” Dan began in a constrained, almost hoarse voice, “I’m the only pilot left up here, and I cannot see to fly. But… ah… our autopilot is working, and I’m going to get us down with that.”
“Roger, Meridian.”
Dr. Graham Tash reentered the cockpit, brushing Dan’s arm.
“Who’s there?” Dan asked.
“It’s the doctor, Dan.”
“How’s Pete?”
The physician cleared his throat. “Dan, I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
“Oh, God! How? How could that happen?”
Graham put his hand on the copilot’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Probably a coronary. Maybe a stroke.”
Dan took a ragged breath and swallowed. “Pete only had six months before retirement. He… was going to take his wife around the world.”
“We did everything we could. We could never get a heartbeat.”
Dan was shaking his head. “He’s got a huge family. Kids, grandkids.” He was quiet for a few seconds before taking a sharp breath and wincing from the effort. “Doc, do you guys carry little black bags anymore?”
“Not really. But there’s an emergency medical kit aboard.”
“I… ah… need something for the pain. Not enough to run the risk of knocking me out, but to get the edge off. I’m… having trouble handling the pain and thinking.”
“I have it right here,” Graham said. “I’m only going to give you a small amount, for the same reasons you indicated, Dan.”
“Could you please hurry?”
Graham ripped open an alcohol swab with his teeth as he struggled to unbutton the copilot’s left cuff and pull his sleeve up, swabbing the target area. He drew the appropriate amount of anesthetic into the syringe and injected it into Dan’s vein. “You should feel that almost instantly.”
There was a sigh and a nod from the copilot as a wide-eyed Bill Jenkins came through the door with someone in tow.
“Dan? I’ve brought Mr. Geoffrey Sampson.”
The copilot nodded. “There’s no time for courtesies, Mr. Sampson. Please get in the captain’s seat — the left seat, and fasten the seat belt.”
“Very well,” the man said in a classic Oxford accent, climbing into the seat.
“Mr. Sampson?” Dan began as soon as he heard the belt snap to.
“Geoffrey, if you please,” he said.
“Yeah. Geoffrey. Look, I’m going to need your assistance flying this aircraft.”
“Oh, dear. That could be a difficulty, then, Captain. I’ve had frightfully little experience.”
“My name’s Dan.”
“Of course. Dan, I had flight lessons in small single-engine airplanes during the fifties, but that’s a world away from this cockpit.”
“You know the basics? Airspeed, altitude, heading, attitude?”
“Most of them, yes.”
Once again Dan had to remind himself to slow his breathing. He was getting light-headed — or was that the effect of the morphine?
“Geoffrey. Take… ah.” Dan stopped and shook his head to clear it. A wave of pain rewarded the effort. He heard himself whimper, a sound he was determined not to repeat, and swallowed hard against a cotton mouth.
“Okay… Geoff… take a good and careful look at every major switch and everything on the display screens and see how much looks familiar.”
“Okay.”
“We’re… going to… have to let the autopilot land the airplane back in Hong Kong, since I can’t see.”
“I must be misunderstanding this — are you telling me that you’re unable to see anything?”
“That’s the problem.”
“Oh my!”
“Were you instrument-rated?”
“No. And I most certainly can’t fly this machine! I–I—”
Robert clamped a reassuring hand on Sampson’s right shoulder as Dan held up his left hand to interrupt the Englishman. “Hold it, Geoffrey. You’re not going to fly. The airplane will fly itself. You’re just going to be my eyes, reading the basic instruments and watching to make sure the autopilot doesn’t disconnect. Okay?”
“Very well. I can try, but I must have you understand I am not able to fly an airplane like this.”
“Understood. Robert, are you still here?”
“Yes, Dan.”
“And Doc?”
“Right here, Dan.”
Dan took another ragged breath. “Okay. All of you watch this panel.” He pointed to the push buttons on the forward glare shield that engaged or disengaged the autopilot. “As long as this button is lit, the airplane is flying itself. If that snaps off, we have to get it on again. Now. See the radar display, Geoffrey?” He pointed to the screen, and the man acknowledged.
“Do you… just a second.”
Once again Dan’s head went down into his hands, his body shuddering. The three men in the cockpit watched in alarm. After nearly thirty seconds the copilot sat up again.
“Sorry. Okay. Do you see any big red areas in front of us? Those would be storm cells we don’t want to get into.”
“Not in front of us,” Sampson replied. “There is a big red area to the left. Let me read the range. Yes. About sixty miles.”
“Good! Keep watching that, too.”
Dan leaned forward and gingerly touched his eyelids, feeling the swelling. He was dizzy, in pain, nauseated, tired, and scared, but the plan was becoming clearer. I can do this. She’s a new bird, the equipment works, and Hong Kong’s got a long runway. I can make this happen!