Code Black (30 page)

“It doesn’t matter if they call back now or not.” Henry passed the phone to Lauren “He just needs to do what he’s supposed to do.”

Lauren focused on Henry. The news that his wife was injured had hit him hard. She sensed he was fighting his way through the mental agony and she wondered if he might be losing that battle. She turned and looked at the remaining light. It would be dark soon. She had no idea how much daylight Donovan needed to hold his position relative to their plane. As they descended there was nothing to do but watch the clouds come closer and closer.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“We were cut off.” Donovan gave the phone to John. He put both hands on the controls as he began to maneuver closer to the other 737. “No need to call them back. Henry said when we see the lights he’ll be accelerating and pulling away. We’re going to set it down right behind him. The snow-covered runway should slow us quickly, absorb much of the impact.” Donovan closed the distance between his and Henry’s planes. The other Boeing seemed to hover just a few feet away. It felt so unnatural to be flying this close to another aircraft. The entire airspace system was designed to keep airplanes apart. Now he was going to guide their 737 as close to the other Boeing as he possibly could. “This is pretty unorthodox. But God, is that airplane beautiful.”

“How close do you—how close are we going to get?” John asked.

“As close as I can. It’s going to be hard as hell to see them in the clouds. I want to be able to count every rivet.” He glanced at John. Donovan knew firsthand how difficult it was to sit and let someone else fly. He turned his attention back to the other Boeing. Henry, Michael and Lauren were only 50 feet away. He delicately began to guide them in even closer.

Donovan’s tension mounted. Part of Henry’s plane was distorted from the super-heated exhaust coming from Henry’s engines. He had to avoid getting too close to the jet blast. Another danger would be the vortices from the other Boeing. The lift from Henry’s plane created small tornadoes of disturbed air just behind each wing tip. Donovan carefully calculated how to avoid each of these risks. The biggest threat, though, was not staying close enough. No matter what happened, he had to keep them in sight. His leg muscles tightened. In theory, it was easy. All he had to do was follow Henry down through the storm until they spotted the runway. In reality, it was going to be the most difficult flying Donovan had ever done.

“Okay,” Donovan announced. “I’m going to slide in above their horizontal stabilizer, just to the right of Henry’s rudder. I can move in close, and it should keep us out of trouble, well away from the jet blast. John, when we get near the ground, I want you to keep your eyes open for any sign of the runway lights. We need to spot them as soon as possible. What we can’t afford to do is to follow Henry back up into the clouds. I don’t think we have the daylight or the fuel to make that mistake.”

“I’ll do my best,” John said.

Donovan took another quick look across the cockpit. John’s eyes were fixed on the Boeing as it gradually filled the windscreen. “We’ll be all right. If we somehow get separated, we’ll fly back out over the lake.” Donovan said, wishing he had something more to offer.

John nodded, then shifted uncomfortably in his seat, helpless to do anything but sit and watch.

“Just a few more feet and we’ll be there.” Donovan nudged the 737 into a shallow bank to bring him within twenty feet of the other plane. The controls shook briefly in his hands as he passed through the edge of Henry’s wake turbulence. “So far so good.” He offered a silent thanks that the ride was still smooth. If he could just stay locked in formation like this, they had a chance. “They’re in the turn,” Donovan said. He took a deep breath and his chest felt tight. He knew it wasn’t just from the harness. Donovan looked away for just a fraction of a second. To his right, John’s hands were poised to grip the controls.

“Careful!”

“Damn it!” Donovan yelled as he looked out at the other plane. They had drifted a few feet out of position. He corrected quickly, knowing he had just been given his first and perhaps last warning. One moment of inattention—one wrong move, and the situation would turn deadly.

“It’s okay,” Donovan said. With their speed matched once again, Donovan guided their wounded Boeing to within twenty feet of the other plane, and despite the cold a wet trickle of perspiration raced down his rib cage.

Donovan pictured the area below them. He’d landed in Chicago many times over the years. The closer to O’Hare, the more dense the population. Scores of people would be consumed by the fiery impact if he made even a slight miscalculation. A wave of turbulence lifted the two 737s, rocking them in unison as they entered the clouds.

“Have you still got them?” John called from the right seat.

The aluminum skin of Henry’s plane was now nearly invisible, engulfed by the dense vapor of the storm. Donovan made constant control inputs to keep in position. He jockeyed the throttles in the rough air. He concentrated on the small white navigation light and the dull outline of the other aircraft as they raced toward the snow-covered ground. “I have him,” he said. Every movement required yet another subtle correction to keep Henry’s 737 in sight. They were constantly shifting back and forth in relation to the other airplane.

“I can hardly see them,” John said.

“I can. Just enough,” Donovan said, his voice tight. He jammed the throttles forward as their host nearly disappeared into the clouds, then back again as the silver object filled the windshield. He overcorrected and the 737 faded from view.

“Power, Donovan, we’re losing him!” John cried out. Henry’s plane had vanished. “Add power!”

Donovan pushed the power levers all the way up; the 737 surged ahead. “Where is he?” His stomach fluttered with fear. He was playing high-stakes blind man’s bluff with another airliner.

“There!” John yelled. “He’s right there. Do you have him?”

“I’ve got him.” Donovan reduced the power. He had gained too much speed and had pulled almost even with the other plane. He could see the row of cabin lights through the small windows that ran the length of the Boeing. Donovan lowered the nose and used the rudder to reestablish his position. The controls became even harder to manage in his wire-taut hands.

“Easy,” John said.

“Something’s wrong!” Donovan clenched his teeth and poured more power to the twin CFM engines. The left wing dropped and a different vibration reverberated through the airframe. “John, we’re in trouble.” Donovan slammed the throttles as far as they would go. A helpless feeling enveloped him as the other Boeing disappeared in the murk.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“Boeing 31 Whiskey Alpha, this is O’Hare Tower,” Kate said over the speaker. “I show flight 880 has separated and is now on a 170 degree heading.”

“Son of a bitch!” Henry reached up and disengaged the autopilot. There was no need to continue if 880 had broken off. He slammed the throttles forward and pulled back on the controls. “Tell them we’ve missed the approach and are climbing back on top!”

The fear in Henry’s words took Lauren by surprise. In an instant, she understood that 880 could be anywhere in the column of clouds, headed up or down, or right at them.

“God damn it! What happened? Why couldn’t he do it?” Henry looked at Michael. “If he couldn’t hold formation through that, what chance do they have down lower where it’s rough as hell?”

“Are we sure they were in position before we went into the clouds?” Michael said in a manner meant to calm Henry down. “We have no idea what went on back there, Henry.”

They broke out of the clouds and leveled at 8,000 feet. The dark orange sky to the west was all the daylight that remained. Lauren silently urged the phone in her hand to ring. What she dreaded most was to hear a report from Kate that 880 had vanished from her screen. Lauren squeezed her eyes shut and forced the unthinkable from her mind.

“He had plenty of time to move in close. The son of a bitch can’t do it. I was wrong about him—he’s nothing more than a rich, spoiled amateur, that’s probably all he ever was.” Henry slammed his fist on his thigh, a look of defeat etched deeply on his face.

Lauren was horrified at Henry’s reference to Donovan’s past. She prayed that the comment would go by the wayside.

“Do you know Donovan?” Michael asked, an edge in his voice.

Henry turned toward Lauren, then Michael. “Yeah, a long time ago. It’s nothing, forget it.”

“Well I can tell you one thing.” Michael leveled a dead-serious stare at Henry. “There aren’t many pilots alive that can do what Donovan Nash can. I’ve seen most of it firsthand. So, what I want from you—is to get your head back in the game, and we’ll try this again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Try again?” Henry shot back. “We might not get another chance! They might not even make it back on top! They could’ve already crashed for all we know!”

Lauren wanted to jump in the middle of the debate. She hoped that Michael wouldn’t give Henry’s comment any more thought. She began to scan the ragged cloud tops for any sign of the other plane. The longer 880 stayed in the clouds, the worse their situation would become.

“Oh God. I need this to work.” Henry massaged his temples.

Lauren reached out and put her hand on Henry’s shoulder. “We didn’t come this far to fail.”

“I know. It’s just that if they’d stayed with us, they’d be on the ground by now. Audrey could be—” Henry closed his eyes as he said the words, then fought to pull himself together. “We might not get another chance.”

Lauren jumped, surprised at the sound of the cockpit door opening behind her.

“Where’d they go?” Matt’s words came in a rush as he burst onto the flight deck.

“Jesus Christ, Matt!” Henry yelled. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“I saw the whole thing!” Matt chose to direct his words at Lauren instead of his father. “Where are they now? Are they all right?”

“What did you see, Matt?” Lauren asked.

He pulled up right next to us. I could see everything. He was all over the place trying to stay with us in the turbulence,” Matt said. “Then, there was a flash, then a huge trail of fire came blowing from their left engine. That’s when they peeled off.”

“How close were they?” Henry asked. “How long did they stay up with us?”

“They moved in real close just before we went in the clouds. It was getting pretty dark and kind of murky, but I could still see them the whole time. Then the engine went, just like that.” Matt snapped his fingers. “There was smoke, some sparks, then a flash of fire.”

“It was the left engine?” Henry asked. “Was the fire just momentary?”

“Yeah, it was the left one. That’s the only one I could really see. The fire was still burning when they went out of sight. They were so close I could see the pilots. I wonder if Mom could see me.”

Matt’s words delivered a final blow. The pain registered clearly on Henry’s face. Lauren turned away, masking a similar heartache.

“What?” Matt said. “What is it? What’s going on with Mom?”

“Your mother was hurt.” Henry struggled to find the right words. “We don’t know much more than that.”

Matt shook his head. “What happened?”

“She fell,” Lauren said, jumping in to help Henry explain. “They’re taking care of her.” She turned as if to scan the empty sky; the helpless look on Matt’s face was too much to bear.

“Where are they?” Henry said, searching the clouds.

Michael picked up the microphone. “Tower. Say 880’s position.”

“They’re at your two o’clock position and three miles,” Kate replied. “Altitude unknown.”

All four of them swiveled their heads to look out the right side of the plane.

“I don’t see them,” Matt said.

Lauren tried not to think about the earlier conclusions Henry and Michael had reached about 880’s left engine, and attempting to fly on one engine with their damaged rudder. She was terrified that Kate’s next transmission would be to tell them she’d lost radar contact with 880.

Henry reached for the microphone. “Tower. One more time, say 880’s position.”

“Wayfarer 880 is now one o’clock and two miles.”

But all they could see in the fading light was empty sky.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“John! Help me! I need more right rudder!” Donovan cried out. Slowly, the controls became more effective as their speed began to build. Donovan knew he could very well be pushing the airframe beyond its limits; but he’d had little choice except to point the nose of the Boeing down at a dangerous angle. He needed the speed to build as rapidly as possible. The right engine was at full power, and Donovan was using all of his strength to push the right rudder, to compensate for the loss of thrust from the left engine. He waited as long as he dared for the speed to build, then smoothly raised the nose and held the 737 steady.

“We’re almost there. It’s getting brighter!” John strained to look out the forward window.

Abruptly, they soared from the top of the overcast. Their wings banked and the nose was pointed up nearly 30 degrees to the horizon. Donovan carefully allowed the nose to drop, then leveled the wings. He released the pressure on the controls, making minor corrections as the 737 once again flew straight and level above the clouds. He tried to sense how much maneuverability he had lost with the engine out. The partial rudder was all he had to help hold them straight. It was enough for now—he hoped it would be enough for later.

“Do you see them anywhere?” John searched for Henry’s plane.

Donovan took a quick peek outside. “I don’t see a thing.” He wanted to pull the throttle back to conserve fuel, but instead was forced to leave the right engine at full power. They needed the speed. “Get on the phone. Tell Henry what happened. We need to get positioned for another try.”

“I’m on it.”

Donovan let the Boeing accelerate. With more air flowing over the rudder, the 737 was a little easier to fly. He’d come close to losing control of the airplane. He waited impatiently for John to reestablish the connection with Henry.