Lockout

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Aboard Pangia 10 (0350 Zulu)

“Okay, guys, we’ve got about thirty minutes before we find out where we’re going next.”

Jerry Tollefson met the eyes of everyone in the crowded cockpit, including Carol and two of her flight attendants.

“I’ll do another PA announcement as soon as I know whether we’re turning or not, but in the meantime… if we can’t regain control any other way and if we do turn in the wrong direction… I’m going to have everyone strap in and get ready for our last, best move.”

“Jerry… Captain… we’ve got some seriously terrified people back there, including some of my crew. Please talk to them sooner rather than later.”

“I will.”

“And… what you called the nuclear option? Cutting the power?” Carol asked, her voice steady but her features decidedly pasty.

“Yes. If Dan can find it, cutting the main electrical power lead to that damned box.”

Dan and Frank Erlichman quickly descended back into the electronics bay to start pulling as many relay cubes as possible in the hope of finding the one that would restore directional control without turning them upside down. Dan had lost count of the number of times he and Erlichman had descended the small ladder from the cockpit. But once again they were standing in front of the offending cabinet, its mere presence mocking them, the remaining minutes to Tel Aviv ticking by with increasing urgency. Carol was once again scrunched in behind the captain’s seat, kneeling so that she could stick her head down through the hatch to relay any messages to Jerry, who had been out of the captain’s seat no more than twice the entire duration of the cascading emergency.

Jerry looked over at the teenager he’d all but attacked so many hours ago, wanting to say something supportive. But after unsuccessfully punching numbers into the MDCU at random and taking a quick bathroom break, the kid was back nose-down in the MDCU operator’s manual and nodding every few seconds as if the arcane language actually made sense.

“What do you think, Josh?” Jerry asked, unable to restrain himself.

Josh Begich looked up and smiled tentatively. “Sir, I think… I think the unit is actually working and only the screen has been turned off. I was working out how to program a different destination.”

“Really? Have you tried yet?”

“No… where would you like it to take us?”

“New York!” Jerry said, realizing the futility of it with depleted fuel reserves. “Okay, then maybe Tel Aviv. Where we originated.”

Tom Wilson was still positioned behind the copilot’s seat, and he leaned in a bit. “Jerry, aren’t we already headed there?”

“True. Okay, program in the coordinates for Cairo, just to see if it will change course.”

Josh carefully entered the digits and pressed the execute button.

“Nothing,” Jerry pronounced, watching the heading, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, where hours before he would have thrown something out of sheer frustration. Maybe it was weariness, Jerry thought. Maybe his more laid-back demeanor was a dangerous measure of resignation, a realization that he couldn’t necessarily control everything. Whatever it was, in some ways he seemed like a stranger to himself, someone he was watching from a distance, and even amidst the angst and the fright, that fascinated him.

“Jerry,” Carol’s voice reached him from directly behind. “They’re pulling the first breaker now.”

“Thanks. Josh, keep experimenting. Just, as I said before, write down everything you punch in before you hit execute.”

“Yes, sir.”

The startling sound of an air traffic controller giving an inflight instruction to an EgyptAir flight momentarily confused Jerry before he recalled that the main VHF radio had been activated an hour ago, but with no transmit function. Almost absently, he pushed the transmit button on the sidestick controller.

“And Cairo Control, Pangia 10 with you, I just wish you could hear what the hell I’m saying up here, because it would sure be nice to be able to speak to the rest of the known universe, or at least someone in it!”

Jerry relieved pressure on the button, listening absently to what seemed a response.

“Pangia 10! Cairo Control! We do hear you, sir. How are you reading this transmitter?”

Jerry looked down at the VHF control head on the center console, wondering why Dan was taking the time to tap in from below to tease him with a bad accent. Recognition slowly dawned that it wasn’t Dan’s voice at all.

From Bill Breem’s vantage point, Jerry seemed to rise a couple of inches in his command chair, as if re-inflating, glancing around quickly to assure himself no one else was holding a microphone.

“Holy…” He grabbed for the sidestick.

“What was that, Jerry?” Breem asked, but Jerry was already mashing the transmit button.

“Cairo, Pangia 10! If that’s really you, we have you loud and clear on 122.7.”

He turned as far to the right as he could. “Carol! Tell Dan we have two-way VHF restored! And tell him to keep on pulling things!”

“Loud and clear also, Pangia 10,” the Cairo controller was saying. “We are aware of your emergency. How can we assist, sir?”

“Can you patch us into a discreet frequency and set up a telephone relay to our company?”

“Standby, 10, I believe we can arrange that.” The channel remained silent for a few seconds before the controller confirmed it, and Jerry passed the main number for the Operations Control Center in Chicago.