Runway Zero-Eight by Arthur Hailey, John Castle
Authors: Arthur Hailey, John Castle
Tags: thriller
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talking to George Spencer. I’d like to hear a little more about your flying experience, George.”
Behind him, the flabby folds of Burdick’s honest face had begun to shake in an uncontrollable spasm of nervous reaction.
SEVEN
0325—0420
SPENCER TENSED, shooting an involuntary glance at the girl in the seat beside him. Her eyes, in the greenish glow of the instrument panel, were fixed on his face. He looked away again, listening intently.
Treleaven was saying, “For instance, how many flying hours have you had? The message here says you’ve flown single-engine fighters. Have you had any experience at all of multi-engine planes? Let’s hear from you, George.”
Spencer’s mouth was so dry when he replied that at first he could hardly speak. He cleared his throat.
“Hullo, Vancouver. 714 here. Glad to have you along, Captain. But let’s not kid each other, please. I think we both know the situation. My flying up to now has been entirely on single-engine aircraft, Spitfires and Mustangs — I’d say about a thousand hours in all. But that was thirteen years ago. I’ve touched nothing since. Do you understand that? Over.”
“Don’t worry about that, George. It’s like riding a bicycle — you never forget it. Stand by, will you?”
In the Vancouver Control, Treleaven pressed the cutout button on the arm of the microphone in his hand and looked at a slip of paper the controller held out for him to read.
“Try to get him on this course,” said the controller. “The Air Force have just sent in a radar check.” He paused. “Sounds pretty screwed up, doesn’t he?”
“Yes — who wouldn’t be, in his shoes?” Treleaven grimaced reflectively. “We’ve got to give him confidence,” he said. “Without that there isn’t a chance. Whatever happens, he mustn’t lose his nerve. Keep it down, will you?” to the controller’s assistant who was talking on the telephone. “If this guy doesn’t hear me clearly he’ll be in trouble fast and there will be nothing we can do about it.” Then, to the dispatcher, “Okay. Make damn sure you don’t lose them on the air.” He released the cutout. “714. This is Treleaven. You are still on autopilot, right?”
“Yes, that’s so, Captain,” came the reply.
“All right, George. In a minute you can disengage the autopilot and get the feel of the controls. When you’ve had a bit of practice with them you are going to change your course a little. Listen very carefully, though, before you touch them. When you start handling the airplane the controls will seem very heavy and sluggish compared with a fighter. Don’t let that worry you. It’s quite normal. You’ve got a lot of airplane up there, so take it nice and steady. Watch your air speed all the time you are flying and don’t let it fall below 120 knots while your wheels and flaps are up, otherwise you’ll stall. I’ll repeat that. Make absolutely sure at all times that your air speed doesn’t fall below 120 knots. Now, one other thing. Do you have someone up there who can work the radio and leave you free for flying?”
“Yes, Vancouver. I have the stewardess here with me and she’ll take over the radio now. It’s all yours, Janet.”
“Hullo, Vancouver. This is the stewardess, Janet Benson. Over.”
“Why, it’s you, Janet,” said Treleaven. “I’d know that voice anywhere. You’re going to talk to George for me, are you? Good. Now Janet, I want you to keep your eyes on that air-speed indicator. Remember that an airplane stays in the air because of its forward speed. If you let the speed drop too low, it stalls — and falls out of the air. Any time the ASI shows a reading near 120, you tell George instantly. Is that clear, Janet?”
“Yes, Captain. I understand.”
“Back to you, George. Take this slowly and smoothly. I want you to unlock the autopilot — it’s clearly marked on the control column — and take the airplane yourself, holding her straight and level.
Behind him, the flabby folds of Burdick’s honest face had begun to shake in an uncontrollable spasm of nervous reaction.
SEVEN
0325—0420
SPENCER TENSED, shooting an involuntary glance at the girl in the seat beside him. Her eyes, in the greenish glow of the instrument panel, were fixed on his face. He looked away again, listening intently.
Treleaven was saying, “For instance, how many flying hours have you had? The message here says you’ve flown single-engine fighters. Have you had any experience at all of multi-engine planes? Let’s hear from you, George.”
Spencer’s mouth was so dry when he replied that at first he could hardly speak. He cleared his throat.
“Hullo, Vancouver. 714 here. Glad to have you along, Captain. But let’s not kid each other, please. I think we both know the situation. My flying up to now has been entirely on single-engine aircraft, Spitfires and Mustangs — I’d say about a thousand hours in all. But that was thirteen years ago. I’ve touched nothing since. Do you understand that? Over.”
“Don’t worry about that, George. It’s like riding a bicycle — you never forget it. Stand by, will you?”
In the Vancouver Control, Treleaven pressed the cutout button on the arm of the microphone in his hand and looked at a slip of paper the controller held out for him to read.
“Try to get him on this course,” said the controller. “The Air Force have just sent in a radar check.” He paused. “Sounds pretty screwed up, doesn’t he?”
“Yes — who wouldn’t be, in his shoes?” Treleaven grimaced reflectively. “We’ve got to give him confidence,” he said. “Without that there isn’t a chance. Whatever happens, he mustn’t lose his nerve. Keep it down, will you?” to the controller’s assistant who was talking on the telephone. “If this guy doesn’t hear me clearly he’ll be in trouble fast and there will be nothing we can do about it.” Then, to the dispatcher, “Okay. Make damn sure you don’t lose them on the air.” He released the cutout. “714. This is Treleaven. You are still on autopilot, right?”
“Yes, that’s so, Captain,” came the reply.
“All right, George. In a minute you can disengage the autopilot and get the feel of the controls. When you’ve had a bit of practice with them you are going to change your course a little. Listen very carefully, though, before you touch them. When you start handling the airplane the controls will seem very heavy and sluggish compared with a fighter. Don’t let that worry you. It’s quite normal. You’ve got a lot of airplane up there, so take it nice and steady. Watch your air speed all the time you are flying and don’t let it fall below 120 knots while your wheels and flaps are up, otherwise you’ll stall. I’ll repeat that. Make absolutely sure at all times that your air speed doesn’t fall below 120 knots. Now, one other thing. Do you have someone up there who can work the radio and leave you free for flying?”
“Yes, Vancouver. I have the stewardess here with me and she’ll take over the radio now. It’s all yours, Janet.”
“Hullo, Vancouver. This is the stewardess, Janet Benson. Over.”
“Why, it’s you, Janet,” said Treleaven. “I’d know that voice anywhere. You’re going to talk to George for me, are you? Good. Now Janet, I want you to keep your eyes on that air-speed indicator. Remember that an airplane stays in the air because of its forward speed. If you let the speed drop too low, it stalls — and falls out of the air. Any time the ASI shows a reading near 120, you tell George instantly. Is that clear, Janet?”
“Yes, Captain. I understand.”
“Back to you, George. Take this slowly and smoothly. I want you to unlock the autopilot — it’s clearly marked on the control column — and take the airplane yourself, holding her straight and level.
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