He opened the cockpit door now, catching her eye and reveling in the warmth of her smile. He tried to smile in return, but the paralyzing fear that they could lose the exhilarating new life they’d found was too overwhelming.
Susan was terrified, too, but she could hide it better. She had helped move the captain’s body to a small crew bunk behind the cockpit, then returned to her seat to wait for him. How she could even force a smile amazed him.
Graham covered the twenty feet to where she sat, ignoring the haunted expressions on the faces of the other passengers. He sat down beside her, taking her hand.
“How bad, Honey?” she asked quietly, inclining her head toward the cockpit.
“If all the equipment works right, no problem.”
CHAPTER 10
In the business-class section of the main deck, Dr. Diane Chadwick glanced at her watch again, aware she was putting off the inevitable. The idea that a serious in-flight crisis was a perfect moment for observational research had felt like a cruel joke when it first ricocheted through her mind. She was too busy trying to control her own fear to worry about anyone else’s. There were limits to what a behavioral psychologist could be expected to do, weren’t there?
But this is my field! she reminded herself, slowly prying her fingers from around the armrests of her seat. She had written papers about the reactions of airline passengers and crews in a crisis, and here she was in the middle of an unscheduled laboratory experiment. How is this going to look back at NASA Ames if I survive this and have to admit I just sat here like a catatonic moron?
There was a steno pad in her large purse. She had to use every ounce of willpower to reach down and retrieve it, along with a pen.
Four rows of business class stretched in front of her, and then another eight rows of first class extended to the nose of the 747. She was trying to discern what was going on by looking at the backs of the heads ahead of her, and that would no longer do.
Okay. Up. Now! Diane unsnapped her seat belt and tried to smile at her seatmate, a quiet Asian gentleman who was gnawing his fingertip and paying no attention to her. She smoothed her cropped auburn hair and adjusted her glasses before walking all the way forward, then all the way to the rear, making mental notes that she would transfer to paper later.
Two of the flight attendants looked up as Diane passed, but they didn’t interfere. It was an advantage, she thought, knowing how to dress innocuously. She enjoyed those occasions when she could put on “girl clothes” outside the academic arena and really feel feminine, but for some reason, even on her own time — such as flying to and from the terrorist conference in Hong Kong—“academic mousy” was the style with which she felt most comfortable.
Diane reached the small forward closet in the first-class cabin and turned, forcing herself to remain calm as she strolled back. The first five rows were a mixture of men and women — a political delegation, she had heard. One woman was standing and talking to a wide-eyed man, but most were sitting with their seat belts on, hands clasped together, or talking quietly with a seatmate in a picture of tightly controlled fear. Eyes were cast in Diane’s direction only as long as it took to conclude that she wasn’t the bearer of news, good or bad.
In the galley behind first class, the two flight attendants she’d passed had been joined by a third. They were talking quietly to one another as they worked to keep the liquor flowing. There were a few brief smiles and a nervous joke they tried to keep her from hearing. An older, male flight attendant joined them as she passed, placing both hands on the shoulders of two of the three women and saying reassuring things.
A father figure, or so he’s trying to be, she concluded. Probably decades on the job. I’ll want to find out.
The calm atmosphere in coach class was a surprise. Everywhere she looked, people stood talking earnestly to one another, gesturing forward and to the ceiling, and engaging any flight attendant who happened by. The atmosphere wasn’t panicked, but it was serious and concerned, and she knew from her studies that passengers were capable of turning ugly if they felt they weren’t being told the truth.
On her left, in the twenty-third row, a young woman sat weeping. She was trying to hide it, and her male seatmate, with a look of disgust, tried to signal that he was wholly unaffected by the situation and not subject to the emotional instability of the “weaker” sex.
She’s reaching out to him and he’s rejecting her.
In the third coach cabin a gray-haired woman brushed past Diane officiously and leaned down to talk to first one row of passengers, then another. Diane moved closer to hear the woman’s message, a broad interpretation of the announcement the pilot had already made.
“He’s just being the usual conservative pilot, dear. These airplanes don’t really even need pilots except to program their fancy computers, so this shouldn’t be a problem, okay? Relax. We’ll get another night in Hong Kong out of this, free.”
Several rows to the rear a teenage boy sat in a window seat, wearing the first truly angry expression Diane had noticed. He had the candy-striped badge of an unaccompanied minor on his shirt, and was holding a small headset connected to an electronic device in his hand.
Diane reached the rear galley and took a deep breath. She’d start talking to selected passengers now, such as the young couple holding hands tightly enough to cut off circulation, and the obese man playing solitaire while maniacally munching potato chips. The range of human emotions being displayed was awesome.
Her own fright forgotten, she paused next to the rear galley to make notes.
In the cockpit, Robert MacCabe was watching Dan Wade carefully. The quick breathing, the sweating in the cold cockpit, and the clipped speech told a tale of incredible stress — not to mention pain. So far Dan was handling it, but how long he could hang on was a deep concern. Although the copilot appeared to be in his early forties and in good health generally, Robert found himself praying that Dan had a very strong heart.
There was movement suddenly at the cockpit door, and Rick Barnes stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He spotted Robert and nodded to him, then pointed to Geoffrey Sampson with a mouthed “who?” Robert introduced them and Barnes extended his hand to Geoffrey Sampson.
“Glad to meet you. I’m the CEO of the airline. Thanks for helping.”
“I assure you, Mr. Barnes, my efforts are pure, enlightened self-interest.”
Rick turned to look at the man in the right seat, the sight of the bandage around his eyes sending a chill up his back. “Ah, Dan? Rick Barnes.”
There was a long sigh from the copilot. “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”
Rick hesitated, feeling unsure what to say. “Ah, I just… wanted to—”
“Come up here and take over? Lord, I wish you could.”
Rick laughed nervously. “God no, I’m not trying to take over. Just… get us on the ground safely, Dan. I have no idea how bad this is with your eyes, but we’ll stop at nothing to get you the best doctors in the world.”
A crack about the recent reduction in pilot medical benefits crossed Dan’s mind, but he rejected it. This wasn’t the time. Barnes was as scared as everyone else.
“I appreciate the support, Mr. Barnes, but you need to go sit down now.”
Rick Barnes nodded. “You’re right. I’m just outside if you need — I don’t know, if you need the airline chief to yell at someone on the ground, I guess.”