Arthur Hailey: Runway Zero-Eight

“Janet.”

“Yes?”

“Before we go down, have a last — I mean, another look at the pilots. We’ll probably bump a bit — you know — and we don’t want them thrown about.”

Janet flashed a grateful smile at him.

“Can you hold on there for a moment?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll yell quick enough.”

She slipped off her headset and rose from her seat. As she turned to get out, the door to the passenger deck opened and Baird looked in.

“Oh — you’re off the radio,” he observed.

“I was just going to have a look at the captain and copilot, to make sure they’re secure.”

“No need to,” he told her. “I did it a few minutes ago, when you were busy.”

“Doctor,” called Spencer, “how are things with you back there?”

“That’s why I looked in,” said Baird tersely. “We’re running out of time — but fast.”

“Is there any kind of help that we can get you on the radio?”

“I’d liked to have had a diagnostic check with a doctor down there, but I guess it’s more important to hold the air open for flying the machine. How long is it likely to be now?”

“Well under the half hour, I’d say. How does that sound?”

“I don’t know,” Baird said doubtfully. He held on to the back of Spencer’s seat, weariness apparent in every inch of his posture. He was in shirt sleeves, his tie discarded. “There are two patients in a state of complete prostration,” he went on. “How much longer they can last without treatment, I can’t say. But not long, that’s for sure. And there are several others who’ll soon be just as bad, unless I’m very wrong.”

Spencer grimaced. “Is anyone giving you a hand?”

“You bet — couldn’t possibly manage, otherwise. One feller in particular — that English character — he’s really turned out a—”

The earphones came to life. “Hullo, 714. This is Vancouver. Over.”

Spencer waved Janet back into her seat and she hurriedly donned her headset. “Well, I’ll get back,” said Baird. “Good luck, anyway.”

“Wait a minute,” said Spencer, nodding to the girl.

“714 here,” Janet acknowledged into her microphone. “We’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Doctor,” said Spencer, speaking quickly, “I don’t have to fool you. This may be rough. Just about anything in the book is liable to happen.” The doctor said nothing. “You know what I mean. They may get a bit jumpy back there. See that they’re kept in their seats, huh?”

Baird seemed to be turning words over in his mind. Then he replied in a gruff tone, “Do the best you can and leave me to take care of the rest.” He thumped the young man lightly on the shoulder and made his way aft.

“Okay,” said Spencer to the girl.

“Go ahead, Vancouver,” she called.

“Hullo, 714,” responded the clear, confident voice of Treleaven. “Now that you’ve had a breather since that last run-through, George, we’d better press on again. You should be receiving me well now. Will you check, please? Over.”

“Tell him I’ve been having a few minutes with my feet up,” said Spencer. “And tell him he’s coming in about strength niner.” Strength niner, he thought You really dug that one up.

“… a short rest,” Janet was saying, “and we hear you strength niner.”

“That’s the way, George. Our flying practice has slowed you down a bit, though that’s all to the good as it will be getting light when you come in. You are now in the holding position and ready to start losing height. First I want to speak to Janet. Are you listening, Janet?”

“Hullo, Vancouver. Yes, I hear you.”

“Janet, when we make this landing we want you to follow the emergency crash procedures for protection of passengers. Do you understand? Over.”

“I understand, Captain. Over.”

“One more thing, Janet. Just before the landing we will ask the pilot to sound the emergency bell. And, George — the switch for that bell is right over the copilot’s seat and it’s painted red.”

“Can you see it?” asked Spencer without looking up.

“Yes,” said Janet, “it’s here.”

“All right. Remember it.”

“Janet,” continued Treleaven, “that will be your warning for final precautions, because I want you to be back then with the passengers.”

“Tell him no,” Spencer cut in. “I must have you up front.”

“Hullo, Vancouver,” said Janet. “I understand your instructions, but the pilot needs me to help him. Over.”

There was a long pause. Then, “All right, 714,” Treleaven answered. “I appreciate the position. But it is your duty, Janet, to see that all emergency crash precautions are taken before we can think about landing. Is there anyone you can explain and delegate this to?”

“What about the doctor?” suggested Spencer.

Janet shook her head. “He’s got enough on his plate,” she said.

“Well, he’ll have a bit more,” he snapped. “I’ve got to have you here if we’re to stand any chance of getting down.”

She hesitated, then pressed the stud to transmit. “Hullo, Vancouver. Dr. Baird will in any case have to keep a watch on the sick passengers as we land. I think he’s the best person to carry out the emergency drill. There’s another man who can help him. Over.”

“Hullo, Janet. Very well. Detach yourself now and explain the procedure very carefully to the doctor. There must be no possibility of error. Let me know when you’re through.” Janet laid aside her headset and climbed out of her seat. “Now George,” Treleaven went on, “watch that you keep to your present course: I’ll give you any corrections as necessary. Right now, as you approach the airport, I’ll give you a cockpit check of the really essential things. I want you to familiarize yourself with them as we go along. Some of them you’ll remember from your old flying days. Be certain you know where they are. If you’re in any doubt this is the time to say so. We’ll have as many dummy runs as you like but when you do finally come in the procedure must be carried out properly and completely. We’ll start on the first check directly Janet gets back on the air.”

In the control room at Vancouver, Treleaven took a dead cigarette from his mouth and tossed it away. He looked up at the electric wall clock and back at the controller. “How much gas have they got?” he demanded.

Grimsell picked up the clipboard from the table. “In flying time, enough for about ninety minutes,” he said.

“What’s the angle, Captain?” asked Burdick. “You figure there’s plenty of time for circuits and approaches, don’t you?”

“There’s got to be,” said Treleaven. “This is a first-flight solo. But keep a strict check on it, will you, Mr. Grimsell? We must have plenty in hand for a long run-in over the ocean, if I decide as a last measure to ditch.”

“Mr. Burdick,” hailed the switchboard operator, “your president is on the line.”

Burdick swore. “At this time, he has to get back! Tell him I can’t speak to him now. Put him through to the Maple Leaf office. Wait a minute. Put me on to the office first.” He picked up a telephone and waited impatiently. “Is that you, Dave? Harry. Surprise for you — the Old Man is on the line. Hold him off as best you can. Tell him 714 is in holding position and his prayers are as good as ours. I’ll ring him directly the — directly I have something to tell him. Then I suppose he’ll jump a plane here. Right, boy.”

The assistant to the controller, his hand cupped over a telephone, was saying to his chief, “It’s Howard. He says the press are—”

“I’ll take it.” The controller seized the telephone. “Listen, Cliff. We’re accepting no more non-operational calls. Things are far too critical now…. Yes, I know. If they’ve got eyes, they’ll see for themselves.” He replaced the receiver with a bang.