Code Black (13 page)

“It’s pretty easy, actually. North is this way,” Koski said, pointing. “We have the new digital radar system for airplanes on the ground. It’s over there. That’s Andy, he’s in charge of all the snow removal efforts. He’s in contact with the dozens of vehicles on the field right now. Once the airplanes start to move again, we track each one using the same radar. We just see them electronically instead of looking out the window.”

Lauren could just barely hear Andy as he spoke quietly into his headset. He paced back and forth softly as he stared at the surface radar. He turned at the sound of his name and nodded. Lauren saw tired, red eyes framed by a thin face. His longish hair was the same color as his goatee. She immediately got the impression he’d been at work for hours. Despite her rising anxiety, Lauren took a small measure of comfort that the blip of his airplane was still visible, and also from the quiet professionalism displayed by the people in the tower. “Excuse me,” Lauren said, as her cell phone rang. She backed farther away when she realized the call was from Calvin.

“Lauren, we found them,” Calvin’s soothing voice said. “They’re still flying.”

“I know. I’m in the tower cab at O’Hare. Donovan called a few minutes ago. It’s what we thought; their airplane was hit by the KC-135 we saw on television. About all we know right now is that they don’t have any electrical power on the airplane.”

“Thank God he’s alive,” Calvin replied. “I’m not surprised to hear they’re without power. We have some high-resolution photos of the plane and the damage is significant. Do you know what they’re doing to get him down?”

“Donovan is supposed to call us back any second,” Lauren said excitedly. “All the wheels seem to be in motion at this end.”

“You said you’re in the tower cab at O’Hare?” Calvin said. “We’re going to send you the photos we have.” Calvin paused as he gave someone the order to transmit the images. “We’re sending them now, addressed to you. You’ll have to use your encryption password to access the pictures. But it might help in judging what you have to work with.”

Lauren knew Calvin could instantly pull up the e-mail link of any government installation in the world.

“I also spoke with someone at the National Transportation Safety Board,” Calvin continued. “He’s highly placed, and he gave me an off-the-record update on exactly what they think happened. There was some maintenance being done at the air traffic control facility in Indianapolis. A worker fell on the main power feeds leading into the building and was electrocuted. When they shut off the main power, none of the back-ups came on and the building went dark. No one could talk to any of the airplanes they were working at the time. When the power was finally restored, they were two airplanes short.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Lauren replied, angry that such things could happen in this day and age of high technology.

“Good. I’ve also been talking to Michael. The roads are virtually impassable right now due to all the snow. We’re still trying to find a way to get him to O’Hare. We reached the Army and are trying to get a Hummer or something to get him there. I’ll keep you posted as we know more.”

“Thank you.” Lauren wished Michael were here already. She could use his soothing presence to help her deal with what amounted to a gathering of strangers.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Calvin said in a softer voice.

“I don’t think so right now. You’ve been wonderful. Thank you, for everything.” Lauren saw Henry get off the phone and turn to say something to her. “I have to go now. We’ll talk later.”

“Who were you talking to?” Henry said.

“The DIA,” Lauren replied, then she addressed Wayne. “I have an e-mail we need to retrieve.”

“An e-mail?” Henry asked.

“It should have been sent here addressed to me.” Lauren followed Wayne as he stepped up to a terminal. With Henry standing behind her, Lauren waited impatiently as Wayne located the message. She ignored their quizzical looks as she typed in her code and quickly downloaded the first of two images. Moments later the first picture materialized on the screen.

“Oh my God!” Henry slid in closer to get a better look.

Lauren focused on the high-resolution satellite image. The somewhat grainy image of an airliner filled the frame. It took her a little longer than Henry to grasp what was wrong with the airplane. Starting just above the cockpit a giant gash was visible in the aluminum skin. Lauren put her hand over her mouth as she saw how the fuselage had been ripped open and peeled back.

“Is there another one?” Henry asked.

“Yes.” With shaking hands, Lauren clicked the mouse to open the next file. It appeared on the screen and was a much tighter shot. Though it lost some detail due to the enlargement, Lauren could make out individual shards of metal that bracketed the wide opening. It seemed unreal that she was looking at an airplane that Donovan was aboard.

“Unbelievable.” Henry stepped away from the monitor.

“What part?” Lauren asked. She wanted some concrete assessment from Henry about what they’d just seen. “That we were able to get these shots, or the damage to the plane?”

“Both.” He looked up at the clock, then leaned over and searched for the solitary blip on the radar screen.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Lauren asked Henry. “Do we know anything else?”

“I was talking with Tucker.” Henry looked up from the radar screen. “He made some calls. The military option is out. The only base we think 880 could reach is up near Duluth. The PAR system is down for maintenance and the required personnel are off duty. Though he did tell me he spoke with the local phone company. An engineer there explained that as long as 880’s no more than 20 miles from an antenna the cellular link should work. But he warned that the direction the airplane was traveling and the altitude could have a bearing as to how long the connection holds. Something about the switching logic.”

“That makes sense.” Lauren nodded as she processed the physics involved.

“Also,” Henry said, then paused as he thought. “Tucker, and one of our 737 instructors have unearthed a few theories about how to restore power to 880’s instruments. Once we talk to John we’ll have a better idea of how to proceed.”

The shrill sound of the phone caused Lauren to jump.

“O’Hare Tower,” Koski spoke excitedly as he swept the instrument to his ear. He listened for a second then gave everyone a thumbs-up to indicate it was indeed flight 880. “I’m putting you on speaker.” Koski punched a button. “880, you still there?”

“We’re here.” Donovan’s voice poured through the speaker. “Though I’m not sure where here is. Do you by chance have us on radar?”

“Turn thirty degrees to the right,” Kate said from the radar position, then she waited as she stared intently at the scope.

An avalanche of emotion threatened to choke Lauren as she heard Donovan’s voice. She desperately wanted to talk with him privately—but couldn’t.

“Wayfarer 880, radar contact,” Kate said calmly. “Your position is forty-five miles southeast of O’Hare. Turn to a 330 degree heading and say your altitude.”

“We’re level at 10,000 feet,” Donovan reported. “Is Henry Parrish there?”

“I’m here,” Henry said, stepping nearer the phone. “Can I talk to John?”

“Stand by.” Donovan’s voice could be heard in the background as he and John exchanged duties.

“Hey, Henry,” John said finally. “What do you have in mind for us?”

“The early consensus is to try again to restore the power to your primary instruments. But we’re going to have to be careful to eliminate the possibility of fire. Everyone down here is brainstorming on the best way to make that happen. Is there anything else you can tell me about the damage to the cockpit? We’ve seen some pictures of the outside of your plane.”

“How did you do that?” John said.

“Seems we have some pull with the military, we looked at some impressive satellite photos,” Henry replied. “What does the inside look like?”

“As you no doubt saw, the point of impact was from above, directly behind the pilot seats. The wing of the other plane made a complete wreck out of not only the overhead section, but the junction boxes as well. Both sides are equally messed up.”

“So all you have right now are the standby altimeter, airspeed, and the wet compass?” Henry said.

“You got it. Nothing else. Is there any place else we can fly this thing and land? Hell, I’d take a stretch of interstate highway at this point.”

“We’re still working on that.” Henry rubbed his face in frustration. “We’re trying to make sure we don’t miss a single detail. I should have that weather information for you shortly.”

“I understand.” John’s dejected voice registered with everyone in the cab.

“John, hang in there buddy. We know where you are and what we have to work with. Did you get a chance to check for fuel leaks?”

“Yeah, Donovan went back and took a look. He didn’t see anything venting.”

“That’s great news, it buys us some time. I want you to give me twenty minutes to sort out some things. If this works the way I envision it, you’ll be on the ground inside the hour.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” John replied.

“Before you go, 880,” Kate said, “I need you to turn to a 310 heading. There’s a lot of wind up there and I want to keep you in my airspace.”

“We copy,” John said. “And Henry, twenty minutes.”

Lauren had so wanted to say something to Donovan but she’d lost her chance when John had taken over on the phone. Now that they were gone, she felt the familiar tug at her heart—wondering if she’d heard Donovan’s voice for perhaps the last time. Her eyes shot to the engagement ring on her left hand as she wrestled with her emotions. Her thoughts took her to Florida and the wedding that was scheduled for the following weekend. In a moment of fragility she pictured herself standing alone at the altar—Donovan ominously missing from the image. She fended off the morose image and turned toward Henry. “Now what?”

“I have an idea.” Henry reached for his phone.

“Me too,” Lauren said. “I’m your best chance at finding that stretch of interstate they spoke of.”

“Do it.” Henry nodded and dialed his phone.

“Give me some idea of how far they could go,” Lauren said, as she thought of the parameters she was going to need to set up the search.

“Two hundred miles, three hundred if we really stretched it,” Henry said.

“Is there a land line I can use?” Lauren turned toward Koski. “My cell phone battery is getting a little low.”

Lauren once again dialed the direct line to the DIA command center. Calvin answered before the second ring.

“Calvin,” Lauren said, “we’ve talked to them again and studied the damage to the airplane. The first thing we need to do is to try to find them some good weather where they can land. I’m told they could go 200, maybe 300, miles from here with the fuel they have. The captain said it doesn’t even have to be an airport; he’d settle for a stretch of road if he could see the ground.”

“We’ve been looking into that since you called,” Calvin said. “This could take some doing; as you’ve no doubt guessed, the storm is really intensifying. We’ve re-tasked a satellite to focus on your area. Give us a second to make some adjustments. In the interest of time, we’ll scale down the search from the usual 1,800 mile swath down to 600.”

“That works,” Lauren pictured the activity in DIA Operations. The Defense Meteorological Satellite Program, or DMSP, had been the backbone of military weather forecasting for the last twenty years. High above, in a polar orbit, some 450 miles above Earth, the nearly two-ton satellite was always peering down on the planet’s surface.

“Lauren,” Calvin said. “We’re getting the analysis now. It’ll take a few more seconds and we should have something for you.”

Lauren listened as a vicious blast of wind rattled the tower windows behind her. Through the phone she could hear the murmur of voices and what sounded like papers being shuffled.

“Lauren, I have the data,” Calvin said. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Henry Parrish is about as good as they come. I, for one, am glad he’s the guy working on this,” John said as he gestured at the destroyed cockpit. “I have faith he and the airline will find some way to get around all this. Henry’s not the most emotional guy you’ll ever meet, but I’d want him in my lifeboat every time.”

Donovan nodded absently at the accurate description of his old friend. Henry was a serious man, one of the most talented and meticulous pilots Donovan had ever known. His attention to detail was a textbook study in the art of being prepared for every eventuality. It had taken Henry a long time to loosen up from when Donovan had first hired him. But once Donovan had demonstrated that he himself was indeed a serious pilot, and that he could fly equally as well as Henry, they’d gotten along famously. In the years they flew together, Donovan discovered that Henry was a private, yet highly emotional man. Henry’s natural state was to put up a wall against the outside world. So, it came as no surprise that John had described Henry as someone who came across as being somewhat distant.

“What do you think our options are if we can’t get the power back?” Donovan asked; he wanted to keep John talking as much as possible. Every now and then John seemed to drift off, and Donovan didn’t know if it was the result of his injuries or if he was simply thinking about the situation.

“I don’t know what we’ll do.” John glanced anxiously at his watch. “I do know that twenty minutes is going to feel like an eternity.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. What are we missing?” Donovan inventoried the decimated cockpit. “Is there something else we should be doing?”

“I’m hesitant to start pushing in circuit breakers again. I’d rather not torch this airplane with us inside. Let’s wait a few minutes and see what Henry has for us before we get desperate.”

Donovan shook off the image of being burned alive in the wrecked cockpit. “If you have the airplane, maybe I’ll go back and check on things. It would be great to have at least one more phone. Unless you want to go?”