Nelson DeMille - Mayday

Crandall smiled. “Yes. A policeman. Tell him it’s very important.”

She nodded.

Sharon Crandall sat back in the copilot’s seat.

Berry reached out and took her hand. He said to her, “No one can say you didn’t earn your flight pay this trip.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled. “When you first came aboard, I said to myself, ‘That guy would make a good pilot… ’”

“You noticed me when I came aboard?”

“Well… you were wearing blue socks with brown shoes.” They both laughed, then Sharon sat back and listened to the engines, and felt their power vibrate through the airframe. She turned back to him. “John, can you land it?”

Berry looked out the windshield. The rain was tapering off and the sky was becoming lighter. Below, the ocean seemed less turbulent. He glanced at the weather radar. It seemed less cluttered with images, and as far as he could determine, the weather to their front was clearing. “Depends on the weather in San Francisco.” He knew it depended a great deal on his ability. He glanced at the fuel gauges. “Depends on the gas, too. The afterburners drank it up. We’re eating it up now at this altitude. But we can’t use any fuel to climb back up there, and the weather at those altitudes might turn bad again.”

“Do you think we have enough fuel to make it?”

“I don’t know. Too many variables. But I’m willing to bet you a dinner that we at least see the coast before we run out.” Berry smiled to hide his real feeling. He knew what a sucker’s bet it was.

“I’ll bet you we make it to the airport. I want to go to the Four Seasons in New York.”

Berry nodded. “All right.” Then his smile faded. “Listen, if we have to ditch at sea, I’ll know in enough time and we can prepare ourselves. That close to the coast, we should be picked up.” But he wondered if they would go down near a shipping lane. He thought about the possibility of sharks but didn’t know how prevalent they were on the West Coast. He wanted to ask, but decided to wait until they were close. The more he thought about ditching in the sea, the more it seemed to be a beginning, not an end, to their problems. But something else was bothering him. Even a safe landing at San Francisco might not be the end of it. “Sharon, we’ve got to come up with a plan. Something for after we land in San Francisco.”

“What?” She was puzzled. To her, getting the damaged Straton safely to the airport was all they had to do. “What are you talking about?”

“These people,” he said, pointing to the data-link, “tried to kill us. They won’t stop just because we’ve landed.”

“That’s crazy.”

The two of them sat silently for a few seconds. Sharon wondered if Berry could be right. Perhaps she was making too little of it. She said, “If we land at San Francisco in one piece… well, we’ll have to be aware that not everyone on the ground is happy to see us.”

Berry nodded, and dropped the subject.

Berry looked around the cockpit. He was trying to anticipate every one of their needs, no matter which way things went. “Is there a life raft in the cockpit?”

“No. The rafts are all back there.” She paused. “But the inflatable escape chute from the emergency door doubles as a life raft. It’s not as big as the others, but it would be okay for three people.”

“Right.” He thought for a moment. “I think I can put it down into a smooth sea. Let’s go over the ditching procedures. Linda, listen to what Sharon-”

The alerting bell rang again.

TO FLIGHT 52: DO YOU READ? ACKNOWLEDGE. SAN FRANCISCO HQ.

Berry shook his head. “Those bastards. I’d love to tell them we’re sailing in and see what they have to say about that.”

Crandall stared at the message. “This is so… obscene. What kind of person does it take to do something like this? To try to murder people… innocent people who haven’t done anything…?”

Berry remembered his earlier thoughts about climbing above the weather. If he had the fuel, the oxygen, and the confidence to fly, he would have done it. That climb would probably have killed dozens more passengers. Berry wondered if he was really any better than the people in San Francisco HQ, whoever the hell they were. “Sometimes it’s a matter of expedience. It’s not personal, usually. Maybe we shouldn’t take it personally.”

“I take it personally.”

There were sounds coming from the lounge again, whining and moaning, some cries of agony from the injured, and the sound of scraping against the door. Berry heard someone striking the piano keys. For a moment he thought someone was trying to play.

Berry knew that everyone there would drown if he ditched at sea, and he admitted that he would do very little-nothing, really-to save any of them.

He took Sharon Crandall’s arm and turned her wrist toward him. “It’s two-twenty-four. We have a few hours before we reach the coast.” He tried to think in terms of what they would need for an airport landing. He looked down and made sure the autopilot was still engaged, then unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the flight chair.

“Where are you going?”

Berry laughed involuntarily. “Not far, you can be sure.”

She smiled at her foolish question.

Berry knelt down behind the captain’s chair and slid his hand beneath it.

“What are you looking for?” Sharon asked.

“Charts. I need them for radio navigation signals.”

“The radios don’t work.”

“The navigation radios might. They’re separate from the transmitters and receivers.” Berry continued to fish around beneath the captain’s seat, but he came up empty-handed. “Damn it. They were probably blown out. We could really use them. Damn.” The possibility of finding San Francisco Airport without a good navigational signal was very remote, even if they had fuel enough to wander up and down the coastline, which they didn’t.

“How important are they?”

“We’ll get by without them.” Berry slid back into the captain’s seat. “We can search through all the frequencies on the radio dial when we get closer. We’ll find the right one.” But Berry knew there were too many channels and they had too little time.

Crandall unbuckled her seat belt. “I’ll look over here.”

“Okay.”

She leaned forward and ran her hand beneath the copilot’s seat. “Nothing. Wait…” She leaned as far to the right as the side console would allow. “I think I’ve got something. Yes.” Sharon pulled out a stack of crumpled papers. “Here.”

Berry took them quickly. “Charts,” he said. “They must be the copilot’s.” He thought for an instant about McVary back in the lounge. These were his charts and this was his cockpit. Now it was Berry’s, for whatever that was worth. Berry carefully opened the charts one at a time.

“Are they the right ones?” Sharon asked anxiously.

Berry smiled. “Yes.” He pointed to one. “Here’s San Francisco. This is the frequency I wanted.”

“Will the radios work?” Sharon had her doubts.

“Not yet.” Berry folded the charts so that the San Francisco area was faceup. “When we get within range, we’ll see if we can pick up a signal.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then wherever we see land is where we go. Could you recognize features on the coast?”

“I think so. I’ve seen it enough times.”

“Would you know if we were north or south of San Francisco? Or if we were near any other city? Any airport?”

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then said, “When we get there, I’ll have a better idea.”

“All right. Think about it.”

“I will.” She stretched her bare legs out and leaned back in the seat. “Let’s talk. Let’s not think about what has to come later.”