Lockout

CHAPTER TWENTY

Cockpit, Pangia 10 (2300 Zulu)

There was no place Dan knew of for a truly private conversation between crew members except for the crew rest facility, but that was over 150 feet aft. There was also no avoiding the reality that someone had to get Bill Breem under control, and that someone was him.

Asking Breem’s first officer, Tom Wilson, to temporarily replace Dan in the copilot’s seat had been the first step, and Breem hadn’t even noticed. Dan stood and faced the angry captain, all but physically pulling him away from the running verbal gun battle with Jerry Tollefson, who was not about to surrender control.

“Captain Breem, may I have a word with you in private?” Dan asked, his voice deep, calm, and as steady as he could manage.

“Not now!”

“Yes, sir. Now. Right now. Please follow me out of the cockpit.”

“Who the hell are you…” Breem started.

“Legally, sir, I am the second in command of this aircraft, and I’m asking you as a fellow professional to follow me outside to the galley for a private conversation, and this request is on the record.”

“On the record?” Breem snorted. “What are you now, a fucking lawyer?”

Dan pointed at the ceiling. “No, Captain, but you and I are being recorded by the cockpit voice recorder, there’s a tiny microphone right over our heads, and that will not be the case in the forward galley. What I have to discuss with you is probably best left off the record.”

Breem hesitated, uncertainty fighting anger as he glanced upward and gave in with a nod.

“This better be good, son.”

“Jerry? Tom’s got the right seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jerry Tollefson had been on the verge of exploding, but he nodded now without a word, and Dan stepped out of the cockpit and waited for Breem to follow. They moved silently into the forward galley, where Dan asked Carol to step out for a few minutes.

“So what do you want?” Breem asked, his voice reasonably low but his eyes betraying alarm.

“Captain, I have to tell you that I recently attended a training course in Chicago where this very issue of emergency command was discussed. One of the company lawyers came in along with our union counsel, and they confirmed… and I am confirming to you… that the company rule Captain Tollefson was citing to you a minute ago absolutely governs.”

“I’m the senior captain!”

“Yes, sir, you are the senior captain in terms of experience and rank and even seniority number, but you were not the pilot in command, the flight captain, when this emergency began, and therefore the man who was in that position, Captain Tollefson, is the captain of this ship for the duration of the emergency.”

“Screw that. I’m relieving him.”

“Sir, you cannot legally do that unless you are a check captain relieving him for cause, and you are not a check captain, and there is no cause. Therefore, any attempt to pull him out of that seat is legally somewhere between an attempted hijacking and a felonious mutiny, a federal crime in any event, and I, Captain, will be a witness against you, if you attempt it. At the very least you would end up losing your position, and maybe your job, and, possibly, your freedom.”

A lifetime of practice in the art of derision and arrogance had taught Bill Breem how to back down without appearing to give in, and he used his skills now by smiling a snarly smile and glancing away momentarily, as if confronted by fools.

“I am well aware that if Tollefson wants to hold onto command he legally can, and if we survive this, I’m also aware that his refusal to let go will end his career, and you, sonny, can be a witness any way you want.”

“As long as you understand that he is in command. We need your help, not more struggles over who’s in charge.”

“Kid, I was a fucking international captain when you were still wetting the bed! I don’t need a lecture from the likes of you.”

“I certainly hope not, sir, but as of a few moments ago you definitely did.”“Yeah, whatever.”

“Captain, look. I’ve addressed you with courtesy and used your rank each time, and I would appreciate some corresponding recognition that my name is First Officer Dan Horneman, not ‘sonny.’”

Seemingly for the first time, Breem actually looked at Dan, sensing that the wisest course might be to shift gears.

“All right, point taken. Dan, is it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to be so tough on you, Dan, but this is really aggravating to be rousted out of a deep sleep long after a problem develops on my… on this flight… and then hear about it on a frickin’ PA while I’m walking to the cockpit. Very embarrassing.”

“Understood. But we need your help working this out.”

“Okay, then tell me in as much detail as possible what’s going on.”