Chapter 1 Eric Gates awoke to discover that all the cabin lights had been turned on. Passengers in nearby seats began to stir. His glanced at his Rolex, which he had reset to Central African Time shortly after take-off. It was just after 4 a.m. They were not due to land in Cape Town for another three and a half hours. It’s far too early for the breakfast service, he thought as the public address system crackled into life. It sent a slight chill down his spine. The announcement which followed was typical of the sort which most airline passengers hoped never to hear. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, may we have your attention please.’ The female voice was assured and pleasant. ‘We apologise for waking you. This is purely a precaution. The Captain has indicated that there is no cause for alarm.’ There was a brief pause. ‘The Captain has requested that if there are any commercial pilots on board, kindly make yourselves known to a member of the cabin crew by pressing the service button in the panel above you. Our co-pilot is unwell and the Captain would like to know of any available stand-ins.’ After a few seconds of stunned silence, several muted conversations broke out. ‘I was rather under the impression that there are usually two crews on long haul flights,’ said an elderly man in the seat next to Eric’s. He had earlier introduced himself as Norman something or other.’ ‘So was I,’ Eric replied. ‘There shouldn’t be a problem then.’ ‘And yet, here we are with the lights on. It must be serious.’ He hesitated. ‘Perhaps food poisoning or worse?’ ‘Perhaps. It is odd that the Captain didn’t make the announcement,’ Eric added. ‘Considering the implications, that would have been a lot more assuring.’ The hushed conversations around them faded to near silence as people glanced about expectantly. The repetition of the announcement a few minutes later served only to add to the palpable sense of unease. ‘Strange. The last announcement inquired about any pilots. The first only mentioned commercial pilots,’ Eric whispered. ‘That seems a little desperate if you ask me. It doesn’t suggest anything good,’ Norman replied. ‘Why don’t you respond?’ ‘I think they are looking for a real pilot,’ Eric replied politely. ‘Well, then they must come over here and say so,’ Norman responded firmly. He reached for the service button in the overhead panel and pressed it. Eric felt strangely self-conscious as the inquisitive eyes of nearby passengers focused on the two of them. It was not long before a short-haired blonde flight attendant arrived. Her well-rehearsed smile almost succeeded in disguising the hint of anxiety visible in her alluring light blue eyes. ‘I’m Michelle Hart, the head flight attendant.’ She glanced at the lit service light on the panel above Norman’s seat, and she reached to extinguish it. ‘Which of you is the pilot?’ ‘Well, if you don’t have anyone else, it’s him,’ Norman announced as he pointed at Eric. ‘Last night he told me that he regularly flies a 747 on his computer. He apparently also owns several books on flying airliners.’ ‘Are you talking about a computer game?’ Michelle’s forehead creased, but her tone remained polite. It was not clear whether she was annoyed or disappointed. ‘It is more of a simulation than a game,’ Eric defended. Michelle’s eyes narrowed as she considered him for several moments. ‘Look, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. I’m not a pilot and I’ve never flown anything except the planes in my computer simulation programme.’ ‘I’m sorry but we are trying to determine whether anyone on board is a qualified pilot who flies real aircraft, preferably like the one we’re on.’ This time, her professional tone contained more than a touch of condescension. He felt a rush of heat to his cheeks. ‘But I will mention you to the Captain, just in case.’ Although perhaps unintended, her parting shot certainly seemed particularly patronising. Eric’s jaw clenched tightly. Uncharacteristically for him, a ready retort escaped him. To boot, he realised that the exchange had played out in front of all the passengers in his section of the cabin. Michelle departed down the aisle as swiftly as she had first appeared. ‘Sorry about that old boy,’ Norman said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I thought you were serious when you said you believed that you could fly this plane.’ He paused. ‘I suppose it was all that whisky doing the talking.’ ‘I’m afraid I’m not immune to occasional bouts of spirit infused bravado and immodesty,’ Eric replied sheepishly. ‘Well, maybe they’ll call on you anyway.’ ‘Hell, I hope not. I’d prefer to be left with my delusions intact.’ A tense quiet prevailed for a while as everyone waited for some further announcement. It never came. When the main cabin lights faded a few minutes later, most assumed that whatever the problem had been, it had been resolved. ‘Well that’s it then,’ Norman yawned as he closed his eyes. Eric was switching aimlessly between the channels on the mini-screen in front of him when he saw the head flight attendant making her way down the aisle. He shuddered involuntarily as he noticed that she was focused on him. She appeared a touch awkward as she leaned over towards him. ‘I mentioned you to the Captain,’ she whispered. ‘He thought you might find it interesting to visit a real cockpit. Would you care to follow me?’ ‘I thought that visits to the cockpit by passengers have been strictly prohibited since nine-eleven,’ Eric replied nonchalantly. He realised that there was more to the invitation than she had indicated, but he could not resist making it a little difficult for her. ‘The Captain retains a final discretion about entry to the cockpit,’ Michelle explained softly. All the while she glared at him expectantly. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, whose face was as mesmerising as her slim figure was seductive. Although tempted to decline the invitation just to watch her reaction, he decided against it. Something was afoot and if he was being called upon, it had to be serious. ‘Look here my dear,’ Norman interjected. ‘We’re not fools. Perhaps you would do us all the courtesy of telling us what in god’s name is going on. Is the Captain still in charge of the plane?’ ‘Sir, I must ask you to stay calm.’ Michelle whispered. ‘Everything is in order and the Captain is flying the plane. Due to the co-pilot’s illness, the Captain decided to have a further replacement pilot on hand purely as a precaution.’ ‘What about the reserve crew?’ Norman asked. The question instantly prompted Eric to pay particular attention to Michelle’s body language. ‘We don’t have a reserve crew on this flight due to a scheduling error by head office. The allocated reserve crew exceeded their maximum flying hours.’ Michelle’s eyes darted to the right as she replied. You’re lying through your teeth, Eric thought. But he did not interject. Norman also appeared less than convinced but he left it at that. ‘I assure you sir, if the co-pilot does not recover by the time we need to land, the Captain can land this aircraft on his own.’ ‘Well, as reassuring as it is coming from you,’ Norman said, ‘why has the Captain himself not said as much.’ ‘He is busy sir. And since there is nothing to be concerned about, the Captain does not feel it necessary to make any announcements.’ Eric followed Michelle down the aisle. He drew close enough to speak without being overheard. ‘You may have convinced that gentleman, but you don’t convince me.’ ‘What do you mean?’ she asked coolly. ‘I’m a trial attorney. You lied back there. I could tell.’ Michelle’s deadpan expression gave way to one of resignation. ‘It will all be explained to you shortly.’ As they progressed down the aisle, Eric became acutely aware of the gentle rumble of the four powerful Rolls Royce jet engines as they propelled the Boeing 747-400 airliner through the night sky at high speed. He could not imagine a sweeter, more reassuring sound. ‘Is he a pilot?’ a young stewardess asked expectantly as she approached from the opposite direction. The question caused a surge of adrenaline, and induced an overwhelming sense of dread. It seemed pointless to continue denying that he was being summoned by destiny. ‘No, only a computer pilot,’ Michelle replied softly. ‘Has anyone else come forward?’ ‘No,’ said the other, and she released an almost inaudible sigh as she shrugged. Michelle’s pace increased appreciably. They lost no time in alighting the stairs to the upper deck. They reached a door marked PRIVATE: CREW. She opened it and, with a glance, she gestured that Eric should enter. They moved through a narrow galley towards the cockpit door immediately ahead. To the right was another door, marked “Cabin” This was obviously were the reserve crew usually slept. A flushing sound emanated from one of the two crew toilets to the left. The door opened and a short haired, fit looking young man in his late twenties emerged. ‘This is our air marshal, Harry Sykes,’ Michelle said. As she turned towards Eric, she blushed slightly. ‘I’m sorry, but I forgot to ask your name.’ ‘Eric Gates,’ he replied as he extended his hand. Harry Syke’s firm grip was in keeping with his occupation, although his hand was damp. ‘Thank you for agreeing to join us, Mr Gates. We don’t have much time so I’m going to give you the edited version.’ He paused as if unsure where to begin. ‘Our co-pilot left the cockpit earlier during the flight on the pretext of spending a penny. In fact, he entered the crew cabin and apparently managed to kill both reserve pilots in their sleep. Their necks are broken. No one heard anything. A very professional job, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.’ ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Eric declared before he could stop himself. Harry was evidently someone who took his vocation very seriously indeed. The latter ignored Eric’s comment and continued. ‘Afterwards, he returned to the cockpit, and proceeded to attack the Captain using a screwdriver. Fortunately, the Captain is a former air force officer, and he is well capable of holding his own. There was an almighty scuffle in the cockpit during which the co-pilot was killed. But the Captain has two puncture wounds in his abdomen. He is in the cockpit, in a serious condition, and is being attended to by a doctor who was fortunately on board and known to Michelle here. The cockpit is a bit of a mess. We’ve managed to clean up a bit, but there was a lot of blood. The worst of it is that the autopilot console and the central console which contains the flight management system and the GPS were irreparably damaged during the affray.’ He paused. ‘The Captain is flying manually, but we don’t think he will stay conscious for much longer. The doctor has managed to stop the blood flow from his entry wounds, but he suspects that the Captain is bleeding internally, which of course requires surgery.’ ‘Hell’s teeth,’ was all Eric could manage. ‘We need to get the Captain out of the cockpit before he loses consciousness. We intend to let him rest, and then, if fortune should smile upon us, we’ll try to have him back in the cockpit so that he can land the plane. We need someone who can handle a 747 in manual flight from now until we need to descend. And without putting too fine a point on it, I don’t see much chance of the Captain being conscious for the landing, let alone being in a position to actually land the plane. We need someone to be ready to do that too. As you know, we’ve enquired about whether there are any other pilots on board. Simply put, you’re all we have. A computer game pilot I understand.’ ‘A flight simulator, rather than a game,’ Eric explained. ‘I do have books about flying the 747 and other big jets which I have studied to improve my flying on the simulator.’ He was not surprised by the less than enthusiastic response. ‘I will say this. If you must settle for a flight sim pilot instead of a real one, the one you’d want for this plane is the one who is familiar with it. That said, I’ve never flown any plane before. Heaven alone knows whether it will turn out to bear any relation to my flight simulator experience.’ ‘Well, Mr Gates. I’ve been in there and all those buttons lights, levers and displays scare the living shit out of me. If you know what some of them do and if you have some idea about how to fly and how to land, it seems to me that we should consider ourselves lucky that at least we have a fighting chance of surviving this. These are better odds than we thought we had ten minutes ago. Now, let’s get you into the cockpit and have you introduced to the Captain.’ ‘Just a minute, Mr Sykes…’ ‘Please, I insist you call me Harry.’ ‘Only if you call me Eric. Now Harry, I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but I find it more than a little concerning that you seem to have overlooked the possibility that the co-pilot may not have acted alone. Who is to say that I’m not with him and that once I get the chance, I won’t simply continue executing the, evil plan, for want of a better expression… to crash the plane or something.’ As Eric was speaking, Harry produced a pistol from a shoulder holster. ‘We suspect that he was acting alone. If he had any other team members on board, it would have been foolish for the co-pilot not to ensure their entrance to the crew area before he returned to the cockpit. Two or more would have made eliminating the Captain and taking control of the plane a virtual certainty.’ He then patted his pistol and grinned menacingly. ‘Of course, it remains an outside possibility that he was not alone and that we could still be attacked. I wouldn’t be too concerned if anyone chances their arm. They will need to be very lucky to get past me.’ ‘That doesn’t explain why you seem to have excluded the possibility of my being involved.’ ‘Common sense, really. When we asked for any pilots on board to come forward, we realised we would be faced with the unenviable job of excluding him, or them, as possible accomplices of the co-pilot. We decided to cross that bridge if we came to it.’ Harry grinned again. ‘We were certain that if there was another conspirator on board, the co-pilot would probably have ensured that this guy was a pilot, or at the very least, that he could pass as a pilot if required to. Of course, if being a pilot wasn’t part of the plan, then the accomplice, if there is one, is simply posing as a regular passenger. As for you, I am prepared to bet a year’s salary that anyone who responds to a call for pilots by pointing out that he flies planes on a computer can only be telling the truth. No offence intended, but only a fool would concoct a plan to rely upon flight simulator experience as a means to impress and to gain access to the cockpit.’ ‘I guess you’re right,’ Eric conceded. ‘And there is one more thing we considered.’ ‘And what might that be?’ ‘With the Captain certain to be temporarily or permanently indisposed soon, and given that we have no autopilot, we don’t really have any choice, but to let you fly the plane.’ Eric had often dreamed of flying a Boeing 747-400. He thought back to the many times he had watched jumbo jets landing and taking off from distant airport terminal buildings. On these occasions he had often felt overcome by an irrational, aching desire to be at one with one of the most beautiful creations he had ever seen. But now, as he stood in front of the cockpit door of a real Boeing 747-400 airliner, he realised that this was far removed from a dream. This was a veritable nightmare and he suddenly he found himself wishing for the one button his simulator possessed, but which was absent from the cockpit. It was the escape button. One press of that button, and a problematic simulator flight could be interrupted or reset at will. As the cockpit door opened, a small bespectacled man in his early fifties emerged. ‘Dr Barker, this is Eric Gates.’ ‘I hope you have some idea about what to do in there,’ the Doctor said to Eric in a tone which was neither friendly nor confrontational. ‘How is the Captain?’ Eric enquired, changing the subject. He felt sufficiently weighed down by his own doubts and had no appetite for entertaining the misgivings of others. ‘Not good. It’s internal bleeding, I suspect. He’s not going to stay conscious for long so you’d better get in there.’ Eric permitted the doctor to pass and he entered the cockpit thereafter. ‘Good morning, Captain, I’m Eric Gates.’ The Captain was seated in the left seat. He had one hand on the steering column and he was flying manually. His shirt was covered in blood splatters and the lower right side of it was completely blood-stained. The cockpit looked equally as pitiful, with no shortage of smeared blood spatters and stains on most surfaces. ‘Hello Eric,’ the Captain turned to face Eric for a second before returning his attention to the displays in front of him. ‘I’m Mike Langford. Call me Mike.’ The Captain’s face was pale and the pain he was enduring was evident. ‘Permission to take the right seat, Captain.’ ‘Carry on,’ the Captain replied. As Eric sat down he surveyed the extent of the damage as he reached for the headphones. Next he spent a few minutes surveying the displays, most of which looked decidedly familiar. As he did so, he realised that the Captain’s attention was divided between observing him and the task of flying the aircraft. ‘So,’ Eric said after a while. ‘Apart from the autopilot and the flight management computer being down, oh and radio panel on your side, it would appear that everything else is functioning properly.’ ‘Yes,’ the Captain replied. ‘The damage occurred during my altercation with the co-pilot. You’ve been briefed by Harry or Michelle I assume.’ Yes,’ Eric replied. ‘Do you know your way around the dash-400’s glass cockpit displays?’ ‘Yes, it’s all very much the same as on the simulator,’ Eric replied. To reassure, the Captain, Eric pointed towards one of the panels. ‘This is the primary flight display. We are at flight level 370, our speed is 0.83 Mach, and our heading is 173.’ ‘Good. How do you control the plane on your computer?’ ‘I use a joystick with force feedback. I realise that a joystick is typically Airbus rather than Boeing, but simulator steering columns are not easy to come by.’ ‘So I don’t have to explain the control column.’ ‘No. Do you wish me to take control?’ ‘Very well, you have control,’ the Captain said. ‘I have control.’ This confirmatory response was standard practice, and was aimed at eliminating any possible doubt that both pilots understood that control had been relinquished by one and assumed by the other. Jason placed his hands on the right hand control column. As he did so, the aircraft hit an air pocket and lurched forward. Eric gently pulled the column towards him to prevent the plane from descending. His input was not subtle enough though, and the aircraft commenced a gentle ascent. The Captain watched Eric intently, and his hands drew closer to the left hand column. Eric moved the control forwards and backwards in ever decreasing increments until the aircraft stabilised. ‘I can’t make out the horizon and I can’t see the stars. High altitude cloud?’ ‘Yes,’ said the Captain. And he smiled. ‘You stabilised her to straight and level flight without once looking outside. Impressive. So you’re accustomed to flying on instruments then?’ ‘Yes,’ Eric responded. ‘That’s a relief, because you may need to fly on instruments for a while until visibility improves. Can you fly an ILS approach?’ ‘Yes. I’m familiar with instrument approaches and I practise them often,’ Eric responded. ‘Are we navigating by VOR radio?’ ‘Yes, we have to since the GPS is not functioning.’ ‘Have you declared an emergency?’ ‘No. We’re in range of Luanda Control, but they don’t operate between midnight and six a.m. We will be within range of Johannesburg Area ATC in about forty minutes.’ ‘And landing at Luanda was not an option?’ ‘No. For several reasons. Our best options are Windhoek or Cape Town.’ ‘Well surely it must be Windhoek. It’s ninety minutes closer than Cape Town and you’re in urgent need of treatment.’ ‘Well I’m unlikely to be in any position to land, no matter which field I choose. Cape Town has the longer runway, and if you have to land, you may need all of it. Also, and without wishing to cast any aspersions on your abilities, we need to consider the possibility that the landing may be less than successful. We have three hundred and ninety passengers on board. I doubt that Windhoek has the capacity to deal with a high number of casualties all at once. But it is likely to end up being your decision.’ He paused as his face contorted. ‘And my welfare should play no part in it. As Captain of this aircraft, my sole concern is that this plane lands safely. Do you know anything about Cape Town international?’ ‘Yes. I know all the comm and navigation frequencies by heart. On simulator, everything is the same as it is in the real world. I’ve also spent many hours listening to aircraft transmissions on an air band receiver I have. I’m familiar with the standard ILS and visual approaches for runways 19 and 01.’ ‘Well you won’t mind if I double check. What is the ILS frequency and heading for runway 01?’ ‘110.3 and the heading is 009. I’ll also tune to the Cape Town VOR on the Nav 2 radio, 115.7 and to the NDB on Plattekloof, 462.5.’ ‘Hmmm. What are the tower and approach frequencies?’ ‘Tower is 118.1 and Approach is 119.7.’ ‘Well, I think that settles it. You’re probably going to be on your own, as I said. Without a functioning autopilot, you’re not going to have time to familiarise yourself with the approach charts for either of the fields at Windhoek. Have you landed a 747 at Cape Town on your simulator?’ ‘Often. And since the simulator allows one to download real world weather from the internet, I’ve done so in weather conditions which prevail in Cape Town.’ ‘And just to satisfy me that you know something about landing this aircraft, what configuration do you use on final approach?’ ‘If the fuel weight is under 40 000 pounds, as I expect it to be, I use 140 to 150 knots, flaps 25 and pitch at around 0 to 3 degrees. Given adequate runway length at Cape Town, I set the auto break to position one and the spoiler is armed. Thrust is usually around 40-45% N1, depending on weight and wind.’ ‘What do you think Captain? Do you think he knows what he is doing?’ It was Harry’s voice from the rear of the cockpit. Since Eric was focused on keeping the plane straight and level, he had no idea whether Harry had been there all along. ‘To be honest, I’d need another quarter of an hour to find out how much he knows about the do’s and don’ts applicable to large jets before I’d be comfortable answering your question.’ The Captain paused as he started coughing. It was evident that this added to his discomfort. ‘That said, and faced with a choice between a qualified private pilot or him, I’d be tempted to put him in charge. This aircraft requires a lot of detailed knowledge which should be at one’s fingertips. From the little I’ve heard, and seen, he could masquerade as an airline pilot, and perhaps even get away with it…’ The Captains voice, which had become weaker, faded away. He coughed again, and then slumped forward in his seat. His safety harness prevented him from falling against his steering column. ‘Doctor, would you get in here please,’ Harry’s voice seemed to be directed to towards the crew quarters immediately outside the cockpit. Dr Barker slipped into the cockpit and examined the Captain. ‘He is still breathing, thank the Lord. But we will need to get him out of his seat and onto a flat surface so that he can rest up.’ The Doctor turned towards Eric. ‘I assume we don’t need to try to revive him. I assume you have all the information you need from him for now.’ ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Eric responded. ‘Just do what you can to save him.’ Harry assisted the Doctor to move the Captain. The latter was a stocky, tall man and it took some effort on the part of the two of them to extract his unconscious body from the Captain’s seat and to carry him out of the cockpit.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Jul 2013 07:11:32 +0000
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