Читать книгу Wings Of Vengeance - Adam MD Hamedi - Страница 4

“OK, let’s get this baby ready and get the hell out of here.”

As a mission statement, it was terse, but Captain Bill Murdock was a little tense, and was never noted for being full of the joys of spring early in the day. The crew of the Boeing 747 was preparing the plane for a crack-of-dawn, 6 a.m. departure, every pilot’s favorite! Usually there was three crew members: captain, first officer and flight engineer. Today, however, there was to be an unwelcome addition, a check airman giving them a check ride. This was an annual event in the working life of every pilot, a necessary evil, so they were working hard to ensure that everything ran smoothly. In particular, they were intent on achieving an on-time departure, and here the frustrating thing was that there was no sign of the confounded check airman, who should have been present at the crew’s briefing. Murdock knew Austin Hunter from way back, and his failure to show was out of character. He didn’t want to draw attention to Austin’s tardiness, but finally he had to contact the dispatch office in the States. He was told that they had spoken to Captain Hunter and he should be arriving at the aircraft before their departure, but go ahead and depart if he did not show. The crew had no option but to get on with their jobs in the vague hope that he would show before they had to depart. The 747 and its load of one hundred and twenty tons of freight were precious assets, and Global Freight’s operations manager would go ballistic if the flight did not run on time.

So at 5:30, Andy Cole, the first officer, was tapping waypoints into the Inertial Navigation System. John Seymore, the engineer, was fussing over a broken fuel gauge that demanded a time-consuming double-check of the tank’s contents, and Murdock was agonizing over the late appearance of the de-icing truck and Hunter’s absence. It was a chilly morning, and the plane was covered in ice. Planes covered in ice had been demonstrated to fly like penguins, so no need to do that again.

“Ground to flight deck.”

“Go-ahead ground.”

“We’re ready with the de-ice when you are, and you have a visitor coming up.”

“Great, well, as soon as he’s on board and we get the load sheet and the doors shut, we’ll give you the go-ahead for the spray.”

“Roger that, standing by.”

Just then, not one but two arrivals crowded into the already cramped flight deck. One was a tired-looking and flustered Hunter, the other, the ground agent waving a sheaf of load sheet papers. Hunter was wise enough to keep in the background while Captain Murdock perused the list of noxious substances the shipping agent had determined were safe enough to be loaded and bounced through the stratosphere to Chicago. Shipping agents never flew on cargo flights! Really, Murdock hadn’t the least idea whether what he was being offered was either correct or safe, but rules decreed that his signature appear on the load sheet, so he gave the printout some close attention, scribbled his name at the bottom, and passed the clipboard back to the ground agent, who clunked off down the ladder from the upper deck. Austin, having hung his leather coat at the rear of the flight deck, now slipped into the jump-seat behind the captain and apologized for his late arrival:

“Bill, I’m really sorry, I had a rough night and missed my wake-up call.”

“Don’t worry, Austin,” said Bill. “We have quite a bit to do yet. The de-icing truck just showed up and John just finished dripping number three main fuel tank due to a faulty gauge. Any sign of our clearance yet, Andy?” Murdock asked his first officer.

“No, Bill, but I am ever hopeful,” replied Andy, who had been pestering Stansted clearance center for twenty minutes to get an airway clearance.

“Anything I can do to help?” asked Austin.

“Well, you can oblige with some fresh coffee once we’re up and away, but no thanks, we’re just about ready to roll,” replied Murdock.

“OK, Bill, the figures for the number three look good, and I am showing all doors shut back here,” interjected Seymore, who liked check airmen about as much as he liked his mother-in-law.

“Thanks John,” said Bill.

“Ground, from the flight deck,”

“Go ahead, flight deck.”

“We’re all set up here, just awaiting clearance from ATC.”

“OK, do you want to get the de-icing going?”

“Yep, that’s a good idea; can you give me the type and mix?”

“Right, we’ll kick off now and we’re using type III, 75/25.” That indicated it was a mixture of 75 percent water and 25 percent alcohol. The mixture was good enough to remove the thin ice layer.

“Got that, ground.”

“OK Andy, one more request for start, please, and then the checklist.”

“Stansted ground, this is Global 102, ready for start, Charlie 22 with Alpha. Advising the controller of their parking spot and the weather information alphabet.”

“Global 102, cleared to start, call ready for pushback.”

“Global 102, roger, cleared to start.”

“Hallelujah!” muttered Bill.

The crew now busied themselves with the litany of the before-start check, while outside, hundreds of gallons of warm de-icing fluid were sprayed onto the huge wings by the ground crew. Ice thawed and melted, and was swept off the wing by the torrent, which then left a residue of glycol on the surface to protect against further accumulation. The whole plane was sprayed clean before the ground engineer on the headset by the massive front wheels reported to the captain that they were now ready for start. Moments later, the four huge Pratt and Whitney engines whined to life, and with the pushback truck connected to the nose gear, the plane was ready to go.

“Are there any new procedures we need to know about?” asked Murdock.

“Not really,” said Austin. “I am supposed to observe your departure procedures. The company has received a few departure noise violations out of here and they want me to make sure that everyone is adhering to the published departure.”

The Boeing 747 freighter is a two-deck aircraft. The lower level, called the main deck, has enough space to hold one hundred and twenty metric tons of general cargo and the upper level, referred to as the upper deck, is converted into crew quarters with enough space to accommodate four first-class seats and two divided rooms with bunks serving as sleeping quarters for any extra crew, and of course the galley that held the oven and the refrigerators for preparing meals. The only luxury the crew of a freighter lacks is the lack of presence of a flight attendant to cook meals. They would have to do that for themselves. The cockpit has three seats for the operating crew and two extra seats for observing crewmembers.

The aircraft was heading for Chicago O’Hare. The flight time was forecast to be eight hours even, and Austin was counting on getting about five or six hours of rest. He was not sure whether he would be able to sleep or not, but the rest would do him some good.

“Global 102, this is ground control, I have your clearance. Are you ready to copy?”

“Global 102, go ahead ground,” replied Andy, who was working the radios today while Bill Murdock was taxiing the aircraft and performing the take-off.

“Global 102, clear to the Chicago O’Hare airport, Clacton seven Romeo departure, runway two three, maintain flight level three one zero and squak 4240.”

“Roger that Global 102,” transmitted the first officer after reading back the whole clearance that was issued to him.

As they approached the runway, they were cleared for take-off. The aircraft was almost at its maximum take-off weight and the take-off roll took most of the runway, but other than that, the take off was very smooth and all procedures were picture perfect, which Austin knew would be. Once the crew was told that a check airman was going to be on board, they made sure everything was done by the book and their performance would be impeccable. Any reports of sloppy procedures were never observed and remained that, reports. Austin knew that all pilots were the same and it didn’t matter which company they worked for, it was by the book when they were being observed or given a check. That same book was out the window when they were on their own. He would even admit that he is guilty of the same crime, but he always contributed that to the pilot’s experience, and all the check airmen could do was to make sure that these guys followed procedure once in a while. He did know, however, that none of them would ignore safety in the name of airmanship. That was the one sure thing about professional pilots and that made him sleep better at night.

“Great job, guys,” said Austin, addressing all three crewmembers. “Keep up the good work, and now if you would excuse me, I will be retiring to one of the bunk beds for some rest, but please do wake me up before we start the approach into O’Hare if I am not up already.”

Once Austin left the cockpit and was out of earshot, Bill turned to the two other pilots. “I wonder how that poor bastard can get any sleep after all he’s been through. If that shit happened to me, I would have given up long ago. I really feel sorry for the guy and really admire him for pulling through even though you can tell he is not totally recovered.”

“That was one sad sequence of events he had to go through,” replied Andy.

The captain knew Austin well and knew him to be one of the best people he had ever met; he was smart, articulate, friendly and very funny. He always had an endless stream of jokes, but now he never smiled and always wanted to be alone. Bill wished there was something he could do to ease the pain but knew nothing would. Austin would have to pull out of it on his own, but he knew that he was tough enough and would do so; he just hoped it would be very soon.

The remainder of the flight was uneventful and went very smoothly.

As they started their descent toward Chicago, Austin stepped into the cockpit of the aircraft and sat down in the jump seat behind the captain to observe the approach. He felt a little better, though still sleep-deprived. The events of the previous night and the repercussions kept invading his thoughts, so he could only manage some catnaps.

“Are you going home after landing, Austin,” asked Bill? Knowing very well that he tried to avoid doing that.

“No, I don’t think so,” came the response. “The company wants me to stay here for a couple of days and do another check ride but we all know how things are here. They can change at a moment’s notice.”

“Amen to that,” replied all the other crewmembers almost in Unison.

They arrived at Chicago O’Hare airport at 8:00 a.m.; they had taken off from London Stansted airport at 6:00 a.m. local time. There is a six-hour time difference between the two airports and an eight-hour flight time. Before heading to their hotel, they had to talk to maintenance and brief them on the condition of the aircraft and they also had to wait for customs clearance.

When a cargo flight arrives into any U.S. airport, customs officials either showed up at the aircraft, cleared the crew and collected the proper paperwork or a representative of the company drove them to the customs office. On some occasions, the customs officer would call the company representative and ask him to collect the paperwork himself and deliver it to his office after he takes his crew to the hotel, as was the case today. That, however, very seldom happened and only when certain crewmembers were on board that aircraft, and Austin knew he was one of those pilots.

The reason for such an arrangement, Austin always guessed, was an incident that happened a while back on a flight to Bogota, Colombia.

Due to his friendly demeanor, Austin became very friendly with the ground staff at the Bogota airport. After several flights he was approached by a member of the ground staff who considered himself closer to Austin than the rest. He asked him if he would keep an eye on a parcel. He explained to Austin that he would not have to handle it or touch it, just make sure that a certain person picks it up and if someone else picked it up, all he had to do is tell them on his next flight over and they would pay him ten thousand dollars for every trip.

Austin knew how dangerous it would be to turn these people down and he had no doubt in his mind that they would kill him if he reported it to anyone; he had to think hard to get himself out of this predicament. He despised those people and he really would like to see them all thrown in jail, but this was his job and he would be flying to this airport on many more occasions and couldn’t take a chance on his life. After pondering the issue for a few minutes, he told the guy that he would have to decline the offer and promised him that he would never tell anyone about their conversation, hoping that the guy would believe him. He did tell the staff member that he would be checking the aircraft from top to bottom and if he ever found any drugs on it, he would tell everything he knows. Austin came to the conclusion that if he only promised not to tell, he would appear weak and there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t try to hide some narcotics on his flights anyway. By threatening that he would tell if he found anything illegal and then following through with extensive checks of his aircraft, he hoped that they would take his word for it and not harm him. He would have shown them that he knows how powerful they are and what they could do to him, but at the same time show them that he was willing to take that chance and not show the fear that he really felt.

During the next several flights, Austin searched that aircraft with a fine-tooth comb, and even though he never found anything, he did have a suspicion one time and he acted on it.

On one of those flights, they were carrying a horse from Bogota to the United States. That by itself seemed odd to Austin. The horse was not anything special and made him wonder why anyone would pay a great sum of money to ship such a nondescript animal to the U.S., of all places. When he went down to the main deck during the flight to check on the cargo like he always did, he took a couple of pieces of sugar and an apple and a bucket of water to give the horse. When the horse would not have anything to do with what he had, he decided on a course of action.

On arrival at Miami International Airport and as they arrived at the customs office, Austin told the customs officer of his suspicions and explained why. Upon X-raying the horse and not finding anything, Austin decided to keep his word and not squeal on the ground staff member.

Ever since that incident, Austin noticed that he was always waved through when he went to clear customs and was almost positive that somehow, United States Customs knew of his attitude towards drugs and smuggling illegal substances. He figured that had to be the reason he was never searched and why he was treated very respectfully by customs officers. This arrangement was perfect for him. He knew that no matter what he brings in, chances are he would not be suspected of anything as long as he remained discreet. Austin always suspected that customs officials had a profile on almost everyone who traveled to the U.S. in any regularity.

By the time they were done with the formalities and got to their hotel, it was 10:00 a.m. and Austin was exhausted. No matter how much sleep you think you got on an aircraft, it was never enough and never restful enough. He thought about calling the woman, but he fell asleep out of pure exhaustion before he could decide whether to do so or not. When he awoke it was almost 3:00 p.m. He reached for the telephone and dialed the same number their mutual friend in London had given him.

“I have some news for you,” Austin said after she answered. It took her only a second to recognize the voice.

“I heard the news a few hours ago and was hoping you would call me.”

“How did you hear so soon?” he asked.

“My Scotland Yard friend called me. She said they found him in some alley near the theatre but not before doing the same thing again. They found a woman in his dressing room at the theatre. She was almost dead and they believe that the condition they found her in, he probably did try to kill her, but I don’t think so. I think she just put up a better fight than I did and things got out of control.”

So that’s why that son of a bitch was late, Austin thought.

“You are not going to forget our bargain, are you?” he asked.

“No, I am not and you don’t have to worry about that. I can afford it.”

“Good then, maybe we’ll talk later.”

Before Austin could hang up the phone the woman was still talking.

What now, Austin thought. “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked.

“I would like to talk to you if you don’t mind.”

“What about?” he inquired.

“I mean face to face,” the woman said. “I would like to meet you.”

“Sorry, I can’t,” said Austin. “Maybe I’ll call you some other time.”

“Please,” she said. “I need to know why you did this for me and why you wouldn’t accept payment. I need to know who you are.”

“Money means nothing to me. I have enough of my own to live on and don’t need any more.”

“Please don’t leave me suspended like this; I really need to know who you are.” She had to think of a familiar place to meet this man. It only took her seconds to think. “I will be at O’Malley’s every evening between five and seven in the evening at the back corner table. I’ll wear a white carnation on my lapel so you’d know me. Do you know where O’Malley’s is located?”

“I know where it is,” said Austin. “I have to leave town but will be back here in a couple of days. I’ll think about it and call you to let you know when I’m back in town.” He hung up before this woman could keep him on the phone much longer.

The woman looked at the telephone receiver for what seemed an eternity before she hung it up. It had been almost six months since that bastard almost killed her. She had spent three weeks in the hospital just to heal her wounds and broken ribs. It was months before she could bring herself to look into a mirror, afraid to see who might be looking back, and when she finally did, she realized that she needed plastic surgery to repair the damage, and that took a couple of more months.

She tried to put her life back together but the rage ruled her. She could not spend one waking moment without the rage. She was restless and even frightened in her dreams and awoke exhausted. She was anxious and angry and took it out on everyone around her, even her closest friends and family. She was losing everything - her friends, her business, her family and, most of all, her mind. She needed revenge. She needed to get this guy. She tried once to hire someone through a discreet and trusted friend but he thought she was kidding. “You just don’t go hiring hit men,” he said.

“What do you do when you have a problem?” she asked.

Her friend told her to call the police and explain, but she knew the result of that. Her name and face would be plastered all over the newspapers and television and she was not going to let that happen. She had worked very hard and went through many hardships to build her business and reputation and she would be damned if she let that asshole ruin all of it, especially after all the pain he put her through.

She was becoming desperate when the call finally came from London informing her of the bastard’s death.

Two days later, she received a call from the man telling her he would be in Chicago that evening and would try to meet her.

That evening she went to O’Malley’s. At 5:00 p.m., the place was still fairly empty. She had been to the place many times, but today for the first time she actually stopped at the entrance and looked at it. It was a very cozy bar, not very big, but looked very friendly. She noticed one couple occupying one of the tables and she also noticed several men sitting at the bar sipping drinks. She noticed that they all turned and looked at her. She was used to men looking at her, but this time, she was looking back trying to figure out if any one of them looked like a man who would be what she thought of. She was actually hoping she would recognize him, but what would a man like that look like? Most of the patrons turned their attention to their drinks when they recognized the girl as a regular at the place, even though they had not seen her in a while. One man was looking at her more intensely, she thought, but when she looked back, he had turned around and was paying attention to his drink. As promised, she sat at the back corner table. She waited until a little past 7:00 when she decided to leave, disappointed.

Austin’s first instinct when he saw her walk into the bar was to jump up, run to her and hold her very tight and never let go. His legs, however, froze and he was glued to his bar stool. His heart started beating in a way he thought was gone forever. He could not take his eyes away from her but when she started turning her head toward him to look back, he cowered, looked down at his drink and tried to conceal himself the rest of the evening. Every now and then, he would steal a look in her direction, but every time he did that, he thought she was looking right at him.

A couple of men kept looking at her throughout the evening, but when neither of them approached her, she realized neither of them was the man she was waiting for. The man at the bar caught her attention and when he did not approach, she was genuinely disappointed. She waited a while past 7:00 before she decided to leave. Even though she had hoped that her evening would have been better and she would meet her savior, she thought that at least her problem was solved and she knew that tonight, for the first time in months, she would finally sleep.