He pulled himself back to an upright position. “Is Britta up here?”
“No, Dan. This is Graham Tash.”
Dan nodded, trying to swallow again. “Okay… ah… stand by.” He triggered the Transmit button. “Hong Kong Approach, Meridian Five. I’m going to need vectors to — no. I’m going to need more time to prepare for landing. Is this course okay?”
“Roger, Meridian. Please turn left or right now to a heading of two-eight-zero degrees. We show you still level at one-two thousand feet.”
“Okay. Coming left to a heading of two-eight-zero.” Dan inclined his head toward the left seat. “Geoffrey? Can you see the little window I’m pointing to here on the forward panel?”
“Yes, Dan.”
“What does it say?”
“It says oh, eight, oh.”
“Zero-eight-zero, right?”
“Correct.”
“Look straight ahead of you at the compass rose on what we — what we call the HSI, on the video screen.” Dan sighed deeply.
“Very well.”
“What heading is under the lubber line, that little line at the top of the case?”
“I believe it’s the same, Dan. We’re heading zero-eight-zero, as you call it.”
“Okay. Great.” He was almost panting again. Got to keep the breathing slow! Pain’s eased up some, so I ought to be able to make it. Take it easy. “Geoffrey, that little window I was pointing to is the heading that we’re asking the autopilot to fly. Use the little knob beneath it now — we call that the heading selector — and turn it counterclockwise until it says two-eight-zero, okay?”
“Understood, Dan. I’m moving it.”
The 747 began a left bank, and Dan could feel the roll begin. There would be frequencies to set up for the instrument landing system approach, and they would have to descend carefully to 3,000 feet while he made sure a half-dozen other items were correctly positioned, but with a little help, they could do it.
For the first time in several minutes, he began to feel hope.
CHAPTER 9
Lucy Haggar, the newly elected mayor of Austin, Texas, released her seat belt and got to her feet, brushing back her impressive mane of silver hair before walking to the galley where Claire Brown and Alice Naccarato were standing in tense silence. Still trim and attractive in her late fifties, Lucy was used to being in control.
She pulled back the privacy curtain and stuck her head in the galley. “Girls, excuse me, but I need to ask a question.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Claire replied, turning to face her.
“What in hell is going on here? And don’t fib to me, now. Flight crews don’t beg for passengers who can fly unless there’s one granddaddy of a problem. Are the pilots dead?”
She meant the question as a joke, but Claire, a young redhead, took a deep breath and nodded. “One of them is.”
Lucy felt her eyebrows flutter up involuntarily and her stomach leap to her throat. All the progress she’d made over the years in suppressing her fear of flying evaporated in the space of a heartbeat.
“You’re kidding. Oh Lord, you’re not kidding?”
Claire motioned her inside. “You’re… Mayor Haggar, correct?”
Lucy nodded. “Yes.”
“Mayor, we don’t know much yet either, except that something exploded in front of our aircraft and the captain’s dead.”
“But you have a copilot, right? Tell me he’s okay!”
Claire pursed her lips and hesitated a moment too long.
“Oh my God! The copilot’s hurt, too, isn’t he?”
The flight attendant nodded.
“How bad?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Oh Lord,” Lucy said, “I came back here to ask you to tell someone upstairs to please get on the PA and talk to us! I was only scared then. Now I’m terrified!”
The sound of the PA system clicking on precluded a reply. They could hear a man clear his throat before his strained voice began speaking.
Folks… this is your copilot, First Officer Dan Wade. I’m going to speak very frankly, and I expect you to remain calm and collected. Something of an unknown nature exploded in front of this aircraft a few minutes ago. It’s possible we hit another aircraft and he exploded. It’s also possible someone shot a missile at us that… detonated just in front of the cockpit.
The PA clicked off for a few seconds, and then on again.
Sorry. Whatever exploded was so bright, it somehow triggered a deadly physical reaction in the captain, and I’m very, very sorry to report to you that Captain Pete Cavanaugh has died… which is why we asked for any pilots to come forward.
Again the PA clicked off, then on. More scraping noises and a heavy sigh before Dan Wade’s voice resumed, echoing through an absolutely silent cabin. Over 200 passengers looked toward the overhead speakers as if they could see into the cockpit.
Ah, folks, I’m… ah… the only remaining pilot, which normally would not be a problem, but that explosion of light has injured me, too, and blinded me, at least temporarily. But… our airplane is undamaged, and this beautiful new Boeing seven-forty-seven is fully capable of automated landings. All I have to do is set things up, and I’m doing that now. No, I can’t see a damn thing. Yes, I’m in some pain, and I know I sound a bit strange. But I know this cockpit, and I’ve got several folks with me helping to be my eyes. Is this serious? Of course. Are our chances good? They’re excellent. I’m not going to give you some happy nonsense about there being no risk, but we should be okay. Anyway… a few prayers are in order. When we stop, we’ll be stopping on the runway to be towed in, since I can’t see to taxi safely. Okay. That’s it. I’m sorry to be short and brutal.
It was a full twenty seconds before Lucy Haggar and the two flight attendants with her could exhale.
“Okay,” Lucy began. “I asked for straight talk, I got straight talk. Now I think I need a straight bourbon. Maybe the whole damn bottle.”
“I can get that for you,” Claire replied, but Lucy had her hand up, her head cocked, and a strange smile on her face.
“I’m only kidding, Honey. Nightmares are best handled sober. But later I’m gonna close a few bars in Kowloon before I take the train back to Austin.”
She turned and headed back to her seat as Bill Jenkins began a translation of the announcement in Mandarin Chinese.
The Autopilot Disconnect Warning coursed through Dan Wade’s consciousness like an electric shock, causing him to jump at the same instant the huge 747 lurched downward.
“Gad!” He grabbed the control yoke, turning his head toward the captain’s seat. His left hand was already on the control panel along the top of the glareshield, feeling for the square button, which he punched again to reconnect the autopilot while holding the control yoke as steady as he could.
The feel of the panel was reassuringly familiar, and for a split second, he almost forgot his eyesight was gone. But reality came back in a tidal wave of fear. He felt the bandage and the salve that Dr. Tash had slapped on his eyes minutes before. Fear was eating at him, distracting him from the task of trying to land. Despite his reassuring words on the PA, a safe landing was anything but certain; that reality was clouding his judgment, pushing him to rush the landing to get it over with.