The Last Hostage (3 page)

What happened?"

"Oil pressure dropping, temperature rising. Bad engine getting worse."

"Has maintenance been watching that engine lately?"

"Not as far as I know, but you're asking the wrong guy."

Judy grimaced as she checked the time. "And, of course, we don't have maintenance at Durango, so no one can sign it off even if it's okay. In a word, we're screwed."

"That's a phrase."

She smiled. "No, it's a reality."

"I've already talked to maintenance. They're getting a couple of mechanics ready to fly to Durango."

"Damn!" Judy Smith launched her pencil at the far corner of her desk before looking back at Garcia. "You alerted passenger services?"

"Of course, Judy. I'm not new to this."

She held out the palm of her hand. "I'm sorry. This just has me boggled. I was in such a good mood, and now we've got to send someone over to rescue a hundred or so furious passengers at outrageous cost, and none of them will love us for it. It would have been so easy if he'd just come home, but I know Ken must have had his reasons."

"Probably, "Verne replied absently, startled at the odd look which suddenly clouded Judy's face.

Aboard AirBridge Flight 90, Durango-La Plata County Airport, Durango, Colorado. 1O: 14 A.M.

David Gates finished the last item of the shutdown check and looked at the captain, who was studying the maintenance log.

"You going inside to call dispatch?" David offered.

Ken's eyes remained on the log. "Not yet. But I do have a quick mission for you."

"Okay."

Ken raised his head and looked the copilot in the eye. "There's a small maintenance shop at the south end of the field run by a jet mechanic I know and trust. Gus Wilson is his name. Get someone to run you down there, find Gus, and tell him I need him to look at our engine before we declare this flight a lost cause."

"Ah, you mean he could legally sign it off, even though he's not one of our mechanics?"

The captain was nodding. "He could./four gauges are lying."

"But, you said the gauges were showing--"

"David, just go get him, okay? We can discuss the finer points when we get him here."

The copilot hesitated, then began unstrapping the seatbelt. "The south end, you said?"

"Yeah. Gus Wilson. Big guy. Tell him to hurry. I'm probably wrong, but before the company flies another aircraft in here to pick these folks up, I want to try."

David got to his feet carefully as he gestured toward the captain's side window. "We're lucky we've got the only jet in our fleet with built-in stairs. You don't normally find portable stairs big enough for a Boeing on a private ramp."

"You're right. We're lucky, "Ken replied without enthusiasm.

David opened the cockpit door and slipped past Annette Baxter, who was on her way in. She turned and watched the copilot momentarily as he paused in the front entryway to put on his hat, then disappeared down the stairs, a pained expression covering his face.

Strange, she thought. He was probably just reacting to the tension of the moment. After all, having a planeload of passengers angry and ready to strangle you could be a pretty good tension builder.

She turned and entered the cockpit.

"So, exalted leader of the pack, what's the plan?" she asked. "I can report that the natives are staying in their seats just as you commanded."

"Feed and water them, Annette." His voice was firm and steady, devoid of emotion. "Keep them as happy as possible while our copilot scares up maintenance. There's a good chance this is all a false alarm and we can continue on."

Annette cocked her head. "Really? After an engine shutdown?"

"Only if it was a false indication."

She smiled at him. "If you do decide to go on, I assume you'll explain it to our nervous passengers."

Ken Wolfe turned slightly in his seat to look at her. "How nervous are they?"

"Sounds like an Ed McMahon line."

He looked lost. Annette began gesturing in the general direction of Hollywood. "You know, the Carson show? A few years back? Johnny would say, like, 'It's cold,' and Ed would say: 'How cold is it?'"

For a few seconds, Ken regarded her in stony silence, then shook his head. "Of course. I'm sorry, Annette, I'm a little distracted."

"Understood," she replied.

He turned to look out the side window, his voice bouncing off the glass as he reached around the center pedestal for the P.A. handset. "I think I'll talk to them now."

Annette nodded and backed out as Ken slowly raised the microphone to his mouth and closed his eyes, carefully considering his words before punching the button.

"Folks, this is your captain again. While we're waiting for maintenance to evaluate our problem, I wonder whether we've got any other pilots aboard who might want to take a quick glance at the cockpit. Even if you're not interested in visiting, please indulge your captain's curiosity.

I'm told that no flight ever departs these days without at least one pilot in the back. If that's you, please ring your call button, and one of our flight attendants will escort you up front."

In the forward galley, Annette looked up at the P.A. speaker in surprise, aware that a single call chime had rung in the cabin.

That's not like Ken not to warn me, she thought.

She looked down the aisle, feeling a little irritated and off balance.

Kevin was already approaching a passenger who was rising from seat 18D to take advantage of the invitation to the cockpit. Kevin reset the overhead call button and motioned the young man toward the cockpit as Rudy Bostich caught Annette's eye.

"Yes?"

"I hate to bother you, but is there anything I can do to help? You know, file charges against the malfunctioning engine, get a court order to clear the runway?"

Annette laughed and shook her head. "Not yet."

"I'll admit the question springs from self-interest," Bostich continued.

"I have a speech to deliver in Phoenix in two hours, and I'm getting a bit nervous about getting there."

"An official function, Mr. Attorney General?"

"Thanks, but the title's very premature. No, just a legal seminar.

The world won't end if I don't make it."

"Well, we're waiting for a maintenance man, and we can't legally leave until he gets here. I just don't know how long it'll take."

Rudy Bostich smiled. "Okay. Sorry to bother you."

"No bother at all."

AirBridge Airlines Dispatch Center, Colorado Springs International Airport. 10:25 A.M.

Judy Smith, the director of flight control, slipped in behind Verne Garcia's chair and put her hand on his shoulder, feeling him jump slightly at her touch.

"Verne, we're going to launch the replacement flight in about ten minutes. Are you talking with Wolfe yet?"

Garcia looked around and shook his head. "He was supposed to call me on a land line as soon as he got on the ramp in Durango. I just spoke with the manager of the facilities there, and he says the copilot left the airplane about ten minutes ago, but I haven't heard from him either."

Judy straightened up and pursed her lips in thought. "Okay. Well, when he does decide to talk to us, tell him the cavalry is coming, and we're sending two maintenance guys with the flight."

She began to turn away, but Garcia caught her arm.

"Ah, Judy?"

"Yeah?"

He glanced around in search of overt eavesdroppers, but all the other dispatchers were engaged in their own telephonic battles. His eyes shifted back to her.

"I noticed a few minutes ago you kinda reacted a little when I told you Ken Wolfe was the captain. Is there a history here I don't know about?"

She regarded him in silence for a few long seconds. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged again. "Well, when I gave him his paperwork earlier, at the counter, Wolfe looked a bit strange to me. I mean, I'm sure it's nothing, but it was like he was somewhere else, you know? He had a kind of distant, disengaged look. But, I've only been around here since last August, and I don't know everyone's story."

Judy unconsciously drummed her fingers on the side of the cubicle as she probed the dispatcher's eyes.

"He seemed distant, huh?"

"Very. Is that significant?"

She shook her head with unconvincing slowness as her eyes wandered to the far wall of the room. "Ken Wolfe is a bit of a mystery around here, Verne. He's a nice guy and a competent captain, but he has a strange capacity to worry copilots. It's like he's three or four different personalities, one light and friendly, another moody and unresponsive, yet another scared and suspicious. I'm... not sure what to make of him, but regardless of the turbulence, he's always been a team player as far as dispatch is concerned."

"I see."

"I'm sure what you observed was more of the same."

"Okay.

I just thought I'd mention it, you know?"

Judy smiled absently and turned away, then turned back suddenly. "Verne..."

"Yeah?"

"Tell you what. Call that manager again. Tell him to please go out to our aircraft right now, and tell Captain Wolfe personally to leave the cockpit and come call me."

Aboard AirBridge Flight 90, Durango-La Plata County Airport, Durango, Colorado. 10:28 A.M.

With a cart in the aisle in the middle of a drink service, Annette had not been expecting to hear the sound of the cockpit door being slammed hard enough to echo back through coach. She turned and looked toward the front of the cabin, startled to hear the public address system click on, and listened as Wolfe's voice filled the cabin.

"Folks, this is your captain. I've got good news. Maintenance rushed out here and found the problem to be a simple electronic circuit board that was giving us bad indications in the cockpit. With that, we're cleared to go. Your first officer is already getting the clearance from air traffic control, and as soon as our flight attendants can get the cabin buttoned up, we'll be on our way to Phoenix, with great apologies for the unscheduled stop. Flight attendants, please prepare the rear doors for departure and crosscheck. Forward stairs and door are already secured."

Annette glanced back at her compatriots, satisfied to see that Bev and Kevin were already pulling the serving cart to the rear galley. She walked to the front of the coach cabin and turned around, smiling at the sea of puzzled faces, pushing the volume of her voice to the limit.

"SORRY ABOUT THE DRINK SERVICE, FOLKS." Her voice wouldn't carry the entire length of the cabin, but the majority would hear her, she figured. "WE'LL GET TO YOU RIGHT AFTER TAKEOFF."

The sound of the left engine winding up began to reverberate through the fuselage as she moved forward to double-check the left front door.

Sure enough, Ken had closed it and armed the emergency slide just as the procedure required.

Annette moved into the first class galley and stood for a second in thought, her mind uncomfortable over something she couldn't define. Maybe it was the truncated drink service. She hated to leave half the passengers wanting.

Or maybe it was just being in Durango that was surreal. She had bad memories of Durango and a weekend gone bad there a few years before, an embarrassing experience with a new boyfriend who was supposed to be single.

She could understand the captain being anxious to go, but the speed with which everything had come together surprised her. When had the mechanics come aboard to sign the log book, for instance? I must have had my back turned longer than I thought!

She'd gotten lost in the monotony of a drink or meal service many times before, the almost comforting chants reduced to second nature: What would you like to drink, sir? Will that be with cream and sugar, or just cream? Would you like pretzels or peanuts? We have three kinds of beer, sir. They cost three dollars per can.

The second engine was starting now, the whine of the turbine blades accelerating up the audible scales.

She heard the engines stabilize as she locked the compartments in her galley, then realized she had never offered coffee or soft drinks to the pilots.

She felt the jet begin to taxi as she reached around and tried to open the cockpit door.

It was locked.

The 737 was turning to the right aggressively as it moved out of the ramp area.

Annette braced herself against the motion.

The sound of the interphone call chime broke her thoughts, and she glanced toward the ceiling. The red light indicated the rear galley was calling.

She moved to the forward entry door and lifted the handset. "You buzzed?"

"Annette, this is Kevin. Where is the guy in Eighteen-D?" "What do you mean?"

"Well, he isn't in his seat, and his wife is worried." "Eighteen-D?"

"The captain asked about other pilots aboard, and that guy came forward. Remember?"

"Yeah.

I do now. Could he be in the restroom?"