Read Online Airframe by Michael Crichton - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Crichton
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Psychological, Romance, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Aircraft accidents, Aircraft accidents - Investigation, Adventure stories; American
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extension."
"Okay," Richman said.
"Now, let's perform an uncommanded slats extension."
"How do I do that?"
"Any way you can, pal. For starters, hit it with the side of 'your hand."
Richman reached across the pedestal, brushing the lever with his left hand. But the cover protected it. Nothing happened.
"Come on, hit that sucker."
Richman swung his hand laterally back and forth, banging against the metal. He hit it harder and harder each time, but nothing happened. The cover protected the handle; the slats lever remained up and locked.
"Maybe you could knock it with your elbow," Burne said. "Or tell you what, try this clipboard here," he said, pulling a clipboard from between the seats, and giving it to Richman. "Go on, give it a good whack. I'm looking for an accident here."
Richman struck the lever with the clipboard. It clanged against the metal. He turned the clipboard and pushed the lever with one edge. Nothing happened.
"You want to keep trying?" Burne said. "Or are you starting to get the point? It can't be done, Clarence. Not with that cover in place."
"Maybe the cover wasn't in place," Richman said.
"Hey," Burne said, "that's good thinking. Maybe you can knock the cover up, by accident. Try that with your clipboard, Clarence."
Richman swung the clipboard at the edge of the cover. But the surface was smoothly curved, 39
and the clipboard just slid off. The cover remained closed.
"No way to do it," Burne said. "Not by accident. So. What's the next thought?"
"Maybe the cover was already up."
"Good idea," Burne said. "They're not supposed to be flying with the cover up, but who the hell knows what they did. Go ahead and lift die cover up."
Richman lifted the cover up on its hinge. The handle was now exposed.
"Okay, Clarence. Go to it."
Richman swung his clipboard at the handle, banging it hard, but with most lateral movements, the raised cover still acted as a protection. The clipboard hit die cover before it struck the handle. Several times on impact, the cover dropped back down again. Richman had to keep stopping to lift the cover up again before he could proceed.
"Maybe if you used your hand," Burne suggested.
Richman tried swiping at the handle with his palm. In a few moments, the side of his hand was red, and the lever remained firmly up and locked.
"Okay," he said, sitting back in the seat. "I get the point."
"It can't be done," Bume said. "It simply can't be done. An uncommanded slats deploy is impossible on this aircraft. Period."
From outside the cockpit, Doherty said, "Are you guys finished screwing around? Because I want to pull the recorders and go home."
As they came out of the cockpit, Burne touched Casey on the shoulder and said, "See you a minute?"
"Sure," she said.
He led her back in the plane, out of earshot of the others. He leaned close to her and said,
"What do you know about that kid?"
Casey shrugged. "He's a Norton relative."
"What else?"
"Marder assigned him to me."
"You check him out?"
"No," Casey said. "If Marder sent him, I assume he's fine."
"Well, I talked to my friends in Marketing," Burne said. "They say he's a weasel. They say, don't turn your back on him."
"Kenny..."
"I'm telling you, something's wrong with that kid, Casey. Check him out."
With a metallic whir from the power screwdrivers, the floor panels came away, revealing a maze of cables and boxes under the cockpit.
"Jesus," Richman said, staring.
Ron Smith was directing the operation, running his hand over his bald head nervously. "That's 40
fine," he said. "Now get the panel to the left."
"How many boxes we got on this bird, Ron?" Doherty said.
"A hundred and fifty-two," Smith said. Anybody else, Casey knew, would have to thumb through a thick sheaf of schematics before he answered. But Smith knew the electrical system by heart.
"What're we pulling?" Doherty said.
"Pull the CVR, the DFDR, and the QAR if they got one," Smith said.
"You don't know if there's a QAR?" Doherty said, teasing
"Okay," Richman said.
"Now, let's perform an uncommanded slats extension."
"How do I do that?"
"Any way you can, pal. For starters, hit it with the side of 'your hand."
Richman reached across the pedestal, brushing the lever with his left hand. But the cover protected it. Nothing happened.
"Come on, hit that sucker."
Richman swung his hand laterally back and forth, banging against the metal. He hit it harder and harder each time, but nothing happened. The cover protected the handle; the slats lever remained up and locked.
"Maybe you could knock it with your elbow," Burne said. "Or tell you what, try this clipboard here," he said, pulling a clipboard from between the seats, and giving it to Richman. "Go on, give it a good whack. I'm looking for an accident here."
Richman struck the lever with the clipboard. It clanged against the metal. He turned the clipboard and pushed the lever with one edge. Nothing happened.
"You want to keep trying?" Burne said. "Or are you starting to get the point? It can't be done, Clarence. Not with that cover in place."
"Maybe the cover wasn't in place," Richman said.
"Hey," Burne said, "that's good thinking. Maybe you can knock the cover up, by accident. Try that with your clipboard, Clarence."
Richman swung the clipboard at the edge of the cover. But the surface was smoothly curved, 39
and the clipboard just slid off. The cover remained closed.
"No way to do it," Burne said. "Not by accident. So. What's the next thought?"
"Maybe the cover was already up."
"Good idea," Burne said. "They're not supposed to be flying with the cover up, but who the hell knows what they did. Go ahead and lift die cover up."
Richman lifted the cover up on its hinge. The handle was now exposed.
"Okay, Clarence. Go to it."
Richman swung his clipboard at the handle, banging it hard, but with most lateral movements, the raised cover still acted as a protection. The clipboard hit die cover before it struck the handle. Several times on impact, the cover dropped back down again. Richman had to keep stopping to lift the cover up again before he could proceed.
"Maybe if you used your hand," Burne suggested.
Richman tried swiping at the handle with his palm. In a few moments, the side of his hand was red, and the lever remained firmly up and locked.
"Okay," he said, sitting back in the seat. "I get the point."
"It can't be done," Bume said. "It simply can't be done. An uncommanded slats deploy is impossible on this aircraft. Period."
From outside the cockpit, Doherty said, "Are you guys finished screwing around? Because I want to pull the recorders and go home."
As they came out of the cockpit, Burne touched Casey on the shoulder and said, "See you a minute?"
"Sure," she said.
He led her back in the plane, out of earshot of the others. He leaned close to her and said,
"What do you know about that kid?"
Casey shrugged. "He's a Norton relative."
"What else?"
"Marder assigned him to me."
"You check him out?"
"No," Casey said. "If Marder sent him, I assume he's fine."
"Well, I talked to my friends in Marketing," Burne said. "They say he's a weasel. They say, don't turn your back on him."
"Kenny..."
"I'm telling you, something's wrong with that kid, Casey. Check him out."
With a metallic whir from the power screwdrivers, the floor panels came away, revealing a maze of cables and boxes under the cockpit.
"Jesus," Richman said, staring.
Ron Smith was directing the operation, running his hand over his bald head nervously. "That's 40
fine," he said. "Now get the panel to the left."
"How many boxes we got on this bird, Ron?" Doherty said.
"A hundred and fifty-two," Smith said. Anybody else, Casey knew, would have to thumb through a thick sheaf of schematics before he answered. But Smith knew the electrical system by heart.
"What're we pulling?" Doherty said.
"Pull the CVR, the DFDR, and the QAR if they got one," Smith said.
"You don't know if there's a QAR?" Doherty said, teasing
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