Airframe (22 page)

“Don’t we all,” Doug Doherty said, reaching for the chips and salsa.

“Marder hates him.”

“So what?” Ron Smith said. “Marder hates everybody.”

“Yeah but the thing is,” Kenny said, “I keep hearing Marder is not going to—”

“Oh Jesus!
Look!
” Doug Doherty pointed across the room, toward the bar.

They all turned to stare at the television set mounted above the bar. The sound was down, but the image was unmistakable: the interior of a Norton widebody jet, as seen by a badly shaking video camera. Passengers were literally flying through the air, bouncing off luggage racks and wall panels, tumbling over the seats.

“Holy
shit
,” Kenny said.

They got up from the table, ran into the bar shouting, “Sound! Turn up the sound!” The horrifying images continued.

By the time Casey got into the bar, the video segment had ended. The television now showed a thin man with a moustache,
wearing a carefully cut blue suit which somehow suggested a uniform. She recognized Bradley King, an attorney who specialized in airline accidents.

“Well that figures,” Burne said, “it’s Sky King.”

“I think this footage speaks for itself,” Bradley King was saying. “My client, Mr. Song, provided it to us, and it vividly portrays the terrible ordeal passengers were subjected to on this doomed flight. This aircraft went into an unprovoked and uncontrolled dive—it came within five hundred feet of crashing in the Pacific Ocean!”

“What?”
Kenny Burne said. “It did
what
?”

“As you know, I’m a pilot myself, and I can say with absolute conviction that what occurred is a result of wellknown design flaws on the N-22 jet. Norton has known about these design flaws for years and has done nothing. Pilots, operators, and FAA specialists have all complained bitterly about the aircraft. I personally know pilots who refuse to fly the N-22 because it is so unsafe.”

“Especially the ones on your payroll,” Burne said.

On the television, King was saying, “Yet the Norton Aircraft Company has done nothing substantive to address these safety concerns. It’s inexplicable, really, that they could know about these problems and do nothing. Given their criminal negligence, it was only a matter of time until a tragedy like this occurred. Now three people are dead, two passengers paralyzed, the copilot in a coma as we speak. All together, fifty-seven passengers required hospitalization. That’s a disgrace to aviation.”

“That sleazebag,” Kenny Burne said. “He
knows
it’s not true!”

But the television was showing the CNN tape again, this time in slow motion, the bodies spiraling through the air, alternately blurred and sharp. Watching it, Casey started to sweat. She felt dizzy and cold, her chest tight. The restaurant around her became dim, pale green. She dropped quickly to a bar stool, took a deep breath.

Now the television showed a bearded man with a scholarly air, standing near one of the runways at LAX. Aircraft were taxiing in the background. She couldn’t hear what the man was saying because the engineers around her were screaming at the image.

“You asshole!”

“Fuckface!”

“Weenyprick!”

“Lying dipshit!”

“Will you guys shut up?” she said. The bearded man on the screen was Frederick Barker, a former FAA official, no longer with the agency. Barker had testified in court against the company several times in recent years. The engineers all hated him.

Barker was saying, “Oh yes, I’m afraid there’s no question about the problem.” About what problem? she thought, but now the television cut back to the CNN studio in Atlanta, the female anchor in front of a photograph of the N-22. Beneath the photograph it said, UNSAFE? in huge red letters.

“Christ, do you believe that shit,” Burne said. “Sky King and then that scumbag Barker. Don’t they know Barker
works
for King?”

The television now showed a bombed-out building in the Middle East. Casey turned away, got off the bar stool, took a deep breath.

“Goddamn, I want a beer,” Kenny Burne said. He headed back to the table. The others followed him, muttering about Fred Barker.

Casey picked up her purse, got her cell phone out, and called the office. “Norma,” she said, “call CNN and get a copy of the tape they just ran on the N-22.”

“I was just going out to—”

“Now,” Casey said. “Do it right now.”

“Deborah!” Jennifer screamed, watching the tape. “Call CNN and get a copy of that Norton tape!” Jennifer watched, transfixed. Now they were running it again, this time in slow motion, six frames a second. And it held up! Fantastic!

She saw one poor bastard tumble through the air like a diver out of control, arms and legs flailing in all directions. The guy smashed into a seat, and his neck
snapped
, the body twisting, before he bounced up in the air again and hit the ceiling … Incredible! His neck being broken,
right on tape
!

It was the greatest piece of tape she’d ever seen. And the sound! Fabulous! People screaming in pure terror—sounds you couldn’t fake—people shouting in Chinese, which made it
very exotic
, and all these incredible
crashing noises
as people and bags and shit smashed into the walls and ceilings—Jesus!

It was fabulous tape! Unbelievable! And it
went on
for an eternity, forty-five seconds—and all of it good! Because even when the camera wobbled, when it streaked and blurred, that just added to it! You couldn’t
pay
a cameraman to do that!

“Deborah!” she screamed. “Deborah!”

She was so excited her heart was pounding. She felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. She was dimly aware of the guy on camera now, some weasel lawyer, feeding the segment his opening arguments; it must be his tape. But she knew he would give it to
Newsline
, he’d want the exposure, which
meant—they had a story! Fantastic! A little frill and build, and they were there!

Deborah came in, flushed, excited. Jennifer said, “Get me the clips on Norton Aircraft for the last five years. Do a Nexis search on the N-22, on a guy named Bradley King, and a guy named”—she looked back at the screen—“Frederick Barker. Download it all. I want it now!”

Twenty minutes later, she had the outlines of the story, and the background on the key figures. LA
Times
story from five years ago on the roll-out, certification, and maiden flight for the launch customer of the Norton N-22. Advanced avionics, advanced electronic control systems and autopilot, blah blah blah.

New York Times
story on Bradley King, the controversial plaintiff’s attorney, under fire for approaching the families of crash victims before they had been officially informed of their relatives’ death by the airlines. Another LA
Times
story on Bradley King, settling a class-action suit after the Atlanta crash. Long Beach
Independent Press-Telegram
, Bradley King, “the King of Aviation Torts,” censured by the Ohio bar for misconduct in contacting victims’ families; King denies wrongdoing.
New York Times
story, has Bradley King gone too far?

LA
Times
story on “whistle-blower” Frederick Barker’s controversial departure from the FAA. Barker, an outspoken critic, says he quit in dispute over the N-22. Supervisor says Barker was fired for leaking reports to media. Barker sets up private practice as “aviation consultant.”

Long Beach
Independent Press-Telegram
, Fred Barker launches crusade against Norton N-22, which he claims has a “history of unacceptable safety incidents.” Orange County
Telegraph-Star
, Fred Barker’s campaign to make airlines safe. Orange County
Telegraph-Star
, Barker accuses FAA of failing to clamp down on “unsafe Norton aircraft.” Orange
County
Telegraph-Star
, Barker key witness for Bradley King lawsuit, settled out of court.

Jennifer was beginning to see the shape that the story would take. Clearly they should stay away from the ambulance chaser, Bradley King. But Barker, a former FAA official, would be useful. He would probably also be able to criticize certification practices by the FAA.

And she noticed that Jack Rogers, the reporter for the Orange County
Telegraph-Star
, took a particularly critical view of Norton Aircraft. She noted several recent stories under Rogers’s byline:

Orange County
Telegraph-Star
, Edgarton under pressure to make new sales for troubled company. Dissension among directors, top management. Doubts he will succeed.

Orange County
Telegraph-Star
, drug and gang activity on Norton twinjet assembly line.

Orange County
Telegraph-Star
, rumors of union trouble. Workers oppose the China sale, which they say will ruin the company.

Jennifer smiled.

Things were definitely looking up.

She called Jack Rogers at his newspaper. “I’ve been reading your pieces on Norton. They’re excellent. I gather you think the company’s got some problems.”

“A lot of problems,” Rogers said.

“You mean with the airplanes?”

“Well, yes, but they’re also having union problems.”

“What’s that about?”

“It’s not clear. But the plant’s in turmoil, and management’s not leading. The union’s angry about the China sale. Thinks it shouldn’t happen.”

“Will you talk about this on camera?”

“Sure. I can’t give you my sources, but I’ll tell you what I know.”

Of course he would, Jennifer thought. It was the dream of
every print reporter to somehow get on television. The print guys all understood the real money came from appearing on the box. No matter how successful you were in print, you were nothing unless you could get on TV. Once you had name recognition from TV, you could migrate to the lucrative lecture circuit, getting five, ten thousand dollars just to speak at a lunch.

“I’ll probably be out later in the week … My office will contact you.”

“Just tell me when,” Rogers said.

She called Fred Barker in Los Angeles. He almost seemed to be expecting her call. “That’s pretty dramatic videotape,” she said.

“It’s frightening,” Barker said, “when an aircraft’s slats deploy at nearly the speed of sound. That’s what happened on the Transpacific flight. It’s the ninth such incident since the aircraft entered service.”

“The
ninth
?”

“Oh yes. This is nothing new, Ms. Malone. At least three other deaths are attributable to Norton’s shoddy design, and yet the company has done nothing.”

“You have a list?”

“Give me your fax number.”

She stared at the list. It was a little too detailed for her taste, but still compelling:

She picked up the phone and called Barker back. “Will you talk about these incidents on camera?”

“I’ve testified in court about this on numerous occasions,” Barker said. “I’ll be happy to speak to you on the record. The fact is, I want this airplane fixed before more people die. And nobody has been willing to do it—not the company, and not the FAA. It’s a disgrace.”

“But how can you be so sure this flight was a slats accident?”

“I have a source inside Norton,” Barker said. “A disgruntled employee who is tired of all the lying. My source tells me it is slats, and the company is covering up.”

Jennifer got off the phone with Barker, and pushed the intercom button. “Deborah!” she screamed. “Get me Travel!”

Jennifer closed the door to her office, and sat quietly. She knew she had a story.

A fabulous story.

The question now was: What’s the angle? How do you frame it?

On a show like
Newsline
, the frame was all-important. Older producers on the show talked about “context,” which to them meant putting the story in a larger setting. Indicating what the story meant, by reporting what had happened before, or reporting similar things that had occurred. The older guys thought context so important, they seemed to regard it as a kind of moral or ethical obligation.

Jennifer disagreed. Because when you cut out all the sanctimonious bullshit, context was just spin, a way of pumping the story—and not a very useful way, because context meant referring to the past.

Jennifer had no interest in the past; she was one of the new generation that understood that gripping television was
now
, events happening
now
, a flow of images in a perpetual unending electronic present. Context by its very nature required something more than
now
, and her interest did not go beyond
now
. Nor, she thought, did anyone else’s. The past was dead and gone. Who cared what you ate yesterday? What you did yesterday? What was immediate and compelling was
now
.