The Last Hostage (2 page)

David realized the captain was looking back at him with what appeared to be a relaxed smile.

"You wondering why we're carrying a full load of fuel this morning?" he asked.

"We're tankering because it costs more in Phoenix than in Colorado Springs?"

Ken nodded as he returned his gaze to the instruments. "Yeah. But this is nuts to have more than four hours fuel aboard out of the Springs."

He looked back at the copilot. "David, have you flown this particular aircraft recently?"

The copilot shook his head, as much to clear away the disturbing thoughts as to reply. "No, I don't think so."

"So,

you're not aware of the oil leak problem we've been having on number two engine?"

David Gates looked cornered. There had been nothing in the log book about number two engine, but it wasn't unusual for AirBridge pilots to verbally pass on maintenance concerns that probably should have been entered in the maintenance log. Not a legal procedure, but all too common in smaller airlines, or so he'd heard. AirBridge was his first airline.

"I... hadn't heard about any oil leak, and the maintenance log showed nothing. I'm sorry if I missed something."

Ken looked up at the overhead panel and reached for the FASTEN SEATBELT switch. He cycled it twice, sending a two-chime signal to the cabin crew indicating their passage through ten thousand feet, then glanced back at the right-seater.

"You didn't miss anything. No one has written it up yet, including me,

but we're all suspicious. Either a main oil seal is going, or something else is happening out there. Last week it started making strange noises in flight and I seriously considered shutting it down."

David was silent for a few seconds, the image of the powerful CFM-56 jet engine hanging in his mind. "The engine instruments didn't give you any indication of what's wrong?"

Ken shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "Not a clue. We'll just have to watch it closely."

On the flight attendant jumpseat by the forward entry door, Annette glanced at a small panel of colored lights on the ceiling and shook her head in disgust. Just after the ten thousand foot chimes, someone had already punched a passenger call button.

She leaned over to see around the forward cabin divider-just as the man in 6C reached for the call button again.

Annette took her time unbuckling her seatbelt and folding the aft facing seat before moving quietly through the first class cabin into coach and kneeling beside the man's seat.

"You called, sir?" she asked in quiet, discreet tones.

The man's voice boomed back at her, loud enough to be heard in the forward section of the coach cabin.

"Does it meet with your royal approval now, madam, that I get up and get my computer out of the overhead so I can get some work done?" he asked in a demeaning tone. "I could also use a vodka tonic,

if it wouldn't be too much trouble to ask you to do your job."

Annette looked at the carpet for a few seconds and cleared her throat, before looking back up at him.

"You'll have a chance to order a drink in a few minutes when the other flight attendants begin their service, sir. Right now, the seatbelt sign is still on and I must ask you to stay seated. I'll get your briefcase down for you, though, if you'll answer a question for me." "What?" There was sudden suspicion in his eyes.

"Have you ever flown commercially before?"

Several passengers in nearby seats suppressed smiles, one actually chuckling out loud at her question.

He leaned back and snorted to emphasize a practiced look of disgust as he checked a large, gold wristwatch. A Rolex, she noted.

"That's an inane question, woman! I own a tour company. I fly commercially all the time."

Annette nodded. "Well, anyone who's in the travel business and who uses this airline system on a regular basis should be aware of a few basic procedures, such as all the rules you seem to be angry with me for enforcing."

The man came forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised, his squarish face turning slightly purple. "How dare you lecture me?" he said in a loud, outraged tone.

Annette smiled at him. "And how dare you fly on a discounted ticket and beat up on me for not giving you first class?"

"That does it. When I get to a phone in Phoenix, sweetheart, you're toast!"

"Why wait?" Annette said as sweetly as she could manage. "There's a phone in your armrest. In the meantime, if you undo that seatbelt before the light's out, the first officer will come back with a set of '10 plastic handcuffs and we'll have the FBI meet you in Phoenix. Understand?"

Annette ignored the man's obscene retort and walked back to the first class galley, pulling the curtain behind her before turning off the smile and clenching her fists in the privacy of the small cubicle. There was no point in bothering Ken Wolfe with the latest installment of the man's temper tantrums. In little more than an hour the boor would be off the airplane anyway, and then she could spend her ground time writing a report to cover herself when the inevitable "fire-the-bitch-or-else" letter arrived in AirBridge headquarters.

"Did you feel that?"

Ken Wolfe's face was a mask of concern as he looked at his copilot.

"What?"

"That vibration? It's faint, but repetitious."

David cocked his head and closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to discern what the captain was sensing amid all the normal vibrations of a jetliner in flight. His eyes came open just as quickly.

"I... don't feel anything unusual, but..."

"You may not be attuned to that particular range of vibration," Ken offered.

"Maybe not. Was it a ratcheting?"

Ken nodded. "Yes, but very faint. It happens every few seconds. There! Feel that?"

David looked even more concerned than before. "I don't.., well,

maybe."

"In the background," Ken prompted, "a kind of distant grinding or growling, coming and going."

"Yes! I do feel it," David replied.

Wolfe nodded as he leaned over the center console to study the engine instruments, then looked up.

"Okay, I need you to go back quietly and take a look at the engines through the cabin windows. Look at the front and the tailpipe area, and see if you see anything unusual."

David nodded and left quickly, closing the cockpit door behind him, as Ken studied the instruments, paying particular attention to the oil pressure, then suddenly pulled out the emergency checklist. He opened it to the tab marked "Precautionary Engine Shutdown" and scanned the items, then reached up and pulled back the throttle for number two engine.

Thrust lever, close, he intoned to himself.

He reached down behind the center console and wrapped his index finger around the start lever for the same engine.

Start lever cutoff.

With a singular motion, he pulled the lever out of the detent and lowered it to the cutoff position, stopping the engine.

Within thirty seconds the copilot was back. "What happened?"

Ken looked up at him with a worried expression. "Almost the second you left, the temperature started climbing out of limits. No excess vibration, but the oil pressure was dropping as well. I had to shut it down."

David slid back into the right seat and put on his headset as fast as possible. He had never shut down an engine before in any airborne aircraft. Despite all the training efforts to make a shutdown routine, he realized adrenaline was pouring into his bloodstream.

"So, you want me to declare an emergency?"

Ken Wolfe smiled slightly. "First, I want you to fly. It's your leg. I'll keep working the radios and declare the emergency in a minute."

"We're going back to the Springs, right?"

Ken was shaking his head. "We're already closer to Durango, Colorado,

so that's our nearest suitable airport."

David looked over at Ken in mild disbelief, trying to interpret the look of grim determination and the slight smile on the captain's face.

"Ah, Captain, do we have maintenance at Durango?"

"Nope. There's a maintenance shop there, but it's not ours." Ken looked over at David, catching his eyes. "You're not suggesting we pass up the nearest suitable airport and go back to base just to save money, are you?"

David shook his head instantly. "No, no. I... I didn't mean that."

"The FAA says with an engine gone, you head for the 'nearest suitable.'"

"I know. I know."

"The company, on the other hand..."

David had his hand out in a stop gesture. "I really wasn't suggesting that. I was just thinking out loud. Durango's fine. Would you program the computer for me, direct Durango, please, and get us a clearance there?"

"And declare an emergency?"

"Yes, sir. Declare the emergency, let the passengers know, then alert the company."

Ken nodded as he punched the transmit button.

In the rear galley, flight attendant Kevin Larimer had been tracking the copilot's movements in the cabin. He'd seen him lean over several passengers to look at the right wing, and he'd felt the momentary fish- tailing just before the copilot turned and reentered the cockpit.

He glanced at his fellow flight attendant, Bev Wishart, and raised his eyebrows as the 737 yawed again, dislodging the heavy beverage cart they'd been loading. It began rolling slowly across the galley floor toward the right rear service door, where Bev caught it with a muttered curse. She set the foot brake before looking up at Kevin and frowning.

"Turbulence or technique?" she asked.

Kevin smiled at her and arched a thumb toward the front end of the plane. "They're probably up there rocking it back and forth on purpose, just like that Gary Larson cartoon."

Bev tossed her hair back and laughed as Kevin watched her, happy for the momentary license to do so. A smart, buxom blonde, she was married to a lucky American Airlines pilot and therefore untouchable,

though Kevin had quietly longed for her during their multiyear friendship.

Bev's huge eyes, which permanently radiated a look of surprise, were her best feature. He realized with a small start that they were now focused on him.

"Do we have a problem, Kev? You're looking concerned."

"Ah, I'll check."

He turned to reach for the interphone.

The P.A. system came alive at the same moment with Ken Wolfe's voice.

"Folks, this is the flight deck. You may have noticed a small sideways motion in the aircraft a minute ago."

The voice was deep and steady and reassuring.

"We decided to temporarily shut down our right engine because of some indications in the cockpit that may or may not be accurate. Whenever we're unsure, we err on the side of caution, and that's what I'm doing.

Now, there's nothing to be alarmed about, but we're going to have to make what we call a precautionary landing at Durango, Colorado, and have the problem looked at. We'll keep you informed, but in the meantime, I'd like everyone to stay on the aircraft and in your seats while we're on the ground. Also please understand that this aircraft can safely fly and land, and even take off, on one engine, but you wouldn't want us to fly with this problem without checking it out."-

The end of the P.A. announcement was punctuated by the sound of a half dozen flight attendant call chimes reverberating through the cabin.

AirBridge Airlines Dispatch Center, Colorado Springs International Airport. 9:57 A.M.

The dispatcher for AirBridge Flight 90 ended his call to the airport manager in Durango and sat back trying to define exactly what was bothering him. In an emergency, captains could decide to divert anywhere they thought appropriate. But Durango was an odd call.

Flight 90 couldn't have passed the halfway point between the Springs and Durango at the moment the engine was shut down, so why not return the passengers to Colorado Springs where they could be rebooked quickly? Durango was going to be a costly decision.

Verne Garda stood up and unplugged his headset, his eyes on Judy Smith, the current director of flight control, who was apparently deep in thought at her desk a few feet away across the crowded dispatch control room. He moved quietly to her side, wondering if she'd had time to read the requisite e-mail message on her computer in the midst of watching over sixty other flights.

"Judy, you saw my note on Ninety?"

She shook her head and immediately looked down at her computer screen.

"Durango?" She looked up at him. "Why the hell Durango? You suggested they come back here, I hope?"

Verne nodded. "Yup. And he said Durango was the nearest suitable field."

"I know, I know, but I'm only the dispatcher, and Captain Wolfe has already started his descent."

The DFC had been reaching for her headset to call the crew, but Verne Gareia's words stopped her.

"Ken Wolfe?"

"Yeah. Why?"

She sat back with a puzzled expression on her face. "That's not like Ken. I know him. His decisions are usually very conservative, he's very... careful to find out what the company wants." She gestured to the computer screen. "This says it's a precautionary engine shutdown.