James Huston - Marine One

"What?"

"That blade. The threads look stripped, but the blade is almost completely intact except for the end cap and the tip weights."

Rachel frowned and asked, "Can we go look at it?"

Turner considered her request. "Yeah, but act like you're just curious. I'll come over and explain it to you."

Rachel walked away looking around, taping the entire scene with the video camera, then stopped near the blade. She videotaped it, stopped taping, and called out to us, "What about this?"

We walked over to the massive rotor blade, perhaps thirty inches across and forty feet long. Titanium shaft, composite core, and carbon-fiber skin on the outside. The shaft had a yellow-painted stripe near the attachment end that would tell us which of the seven blades this one was. Each had a different color ring: the blue blade, red blade, yellow blade…

I asked Jeff, "What do you make of it?"

"Come down here." He motioned, indicating the end of the blade away from where it attached to the helicopter. "Look at the end."

It was bare, with something of a concave look the entire width of the blade surface. I could see immediately what Jeff's concern was.

Rachel was puzzled. "The end looks odd."

"You know what tip weights are?" I asked her.

"Not really."

"They're little washerlike things that you stack onto those bolts there at the end. The end cap covers that and the rest of the end of the blade. You know the tiny weights that get tapped onto the rims when you get new tires for your car? To balance the wheel? Same idea. It's to balance a spinning surface. If a blade is out of balance, the entire helicopter vibrates. If it's bad enough, the helicopter comes apart."

Rachel looked at the size of the blade, glanced back at the wreckage where the main rotor head lay in the middle, and asked, "How do you balance it?"

Jeff said, "The Golden Blade."

"What's that?"

"Every blade is built to the same specs. But it's impossible to make two things exactly alike, to the thousandth of an ounce. So we balance every blade against the same master blade. The Golden Blade. It sits in a room all by itself and is never touched or modified in any way. It stays attached to a spinning rotor head, and every blade that comes in has to run in perfect balance and tracking with the Golden Blade. We adjust it by adding small tip weights. If they balance against the Golden Blade, they'll balance against each other."

Rachel asked, "So why is this blade here?"

Jeff looked at me with what I took to be extreme concern, maybe just short of fear. "Looks like it came off in the air."

Losing a blade in midair would almost certainly be the manufacturer's problem. A couple of things could cause that to happen that wouldn't be, but those were extremely unlikely.

I asked him, "Wouldn't the blade vibrate itself to death? Wouldn't it have thrown parts all over the countryside?" I stared at the blade, trying to listen to what it was saying. "And after coming apart in the air it just happened to land right where the rest of the helicopter crashed? I'm not buying it."

He said, "Me neither. But it sure came off somehow, and it's not as beat to death as the others, which are still attached."

I walked to the end of the blade where it would have attached to the helicopter. Jeff and Rachel followed me. I asked, "What about the threads? Are they stripped?"

"They look like it, but I can't say for sure. Have to put it under an SEM." A scanning electron microscope. He put his hands deeper into his parka. "I don't think I need to tell you how bad this is going to be for WorldCopter if we threw a blade in a storm and killed the president."

I didn't respond. The answer was more obvious than the question.

Just then another man with WorldCopter printed on the front of his raincoat approached the three of us. Jeff said to me, "Mike, let me introduce to you Marcel. Marcel is the chief accident investigator for WorldCopter. Have you met?"

"No. Hello, Marcel." I extended my hand and he shook it vigorously.

Marcel said, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Nolan. We thought we would have much difficulty from the NTSB, but they've been very cooperative. We are able to work freely." He had a heavy French accent and was trying to be optimistic and upbeat, but the weight of what he was doing was evident on his rain-covered face. "Come over here, I want to show you something."

We followed Marcel to the main part of the wreckage. We stopped under the corner of the tarp. Marcel looked around nervously as he watched the government inspectors sifting. We followed his gaze and saw others walking up the hill looking over every square foot for any other evidence that wasn't in the central area.

Marcel leaned closer to me and said, "We are very concerned about this investigation. We are sure that at the end it will be shown to be pilot error… It is one of the reasons that I wanted you to come out here. I don't trust anyone." He looked around casually, then leaned toward me. "I am afraid the government will be listening to all my cell phones."

"Why do you think that?"

Marcel's face clouded. "Did you not see that senator?"

"Blankenship."

"Yes. His press conference at the Capitol. He is attacking WorldCopter. I think, as you Americans say, with a vengeance , a French word, which of course means the same thing in French, and we understand this. We invented this. And of course we have heard what you have heard, that the Justice Department also is beginning an investigation. As I recall, the Justice Department also includes the FBI, although I am not sure with Home Defense-"

"Homeland Security."

"Yes, but I am quite sure that they are investigating too. Many investigations, all with the purpose of making this our fault. So, if true, does that mean that they could listen in on our cell phones, Mr. Nolan? Hmm?"

This was already getting way more complex than the average aircraft case. It was the kind of case you long to have your whole professional life, yet also hope you never do. It's the kind of case that can make you and break you at the same time. "No, they won't be listening in on our calls. They know I'm an attorney. It would be privileged. I suppose they could claim they didn't know, so, yes, I guess it's possible they could be listening in, if they have a warrant. For other conversations, it wouldn't hurt to assume your calls were being monitored I suppose." If you want to be paranoid, I wanted to add, but thought better of it.

Marcel nodded. "Exactly. So you know about the Justice Department investigation? You will be there?"

"I'll be there. I'm taking Rachel too."

Marcel agreed. "Yes, it's good to have a woman there. Everything is different when a woman is there. They will be less aggressive."

"Don't bet on that. But she's going anyway."

A voice from behind us said, "Marcel." We turned and it was Rose. She was walking toward Marcel. We crossed to meet her. She spoke to him and ignored us.

"We found the CVR. Looks intact. We're getting it to the lab. If it's in as good a shape as it looks, we're going to play it tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. Just wanted you to know."

Marcel was shocked. "Where?"

"NTSB headquarters." She turned back to what she was doing to find the head of the engine manufacturer's investigation team.

Marcel almost smiled. "I am quite pleased we put these black boxes into the airplane. We should be able to find out what happened."

"It will certainly help."

He looked into my eyes to make sure I was listening. "I want you to be there too," he said, pointing at my chest. "At the playing of the tape. You're a pilot." Marcel returned to what he was doing, and Rachel and I were left alone. She was videotaping the NTSB inspectors doing their work. "Videotape everything, twice. I've got to look around."