One of Us Is Dead

95 Tuesday 18 October 2022

Taylor rammed the control column forward, holding the plane in a near vertical descent, with every ounce of strength in his body. The sudden change of direction had the desired effect of catching Rorke out, and hurtling him head first, hard, into the windscreen in front of the co-pilot’s seat, dazing him, the force of the descent then keeping him there.

The altimeter was spinning: 25,000, 24,000, 23,000, 22,000.

And Taylor’s brain was spinning. Thinking. Trying to figure out how he could not only outwit but disable Rorke. The one advantage he had was that Rorke was not buckled in. He just had to keep flying manoeuvres that threw him around the plane, and hope to somehow disable him or knock him out.

In the First World War dogfights, something that had always interested Taylor, German pilots learned a tactical turn, named after its pioneer, fighter ace Max Immelmann. You climbed vertically, almost hanging the plane from its nose, then went over backwards, rolling simultaneously to the right or left.

He was well aware that if you tried such a manoeuvre in a commercial airliner there was a serious risk that the stresses would be too great and the plane could break up. But in this seemingly bulletproof Pilatus, he was confident of it working. He pulled the control column back hard, screaming out of the near vertical descent into a steep climb. And saw Rorke literally fly past him into the rear of the aircraft.

He turned and saw Rorke had collided with the seats and there was blood on his face. He looked dazed.

Quickly getting his bearings, checking the satellite navigation, he began levelling out. As he did so, he turned the radio frequency selector, pressed the transmit button on the mic and said, ‘This is Golf Alpha Victor Uniform Zulu. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!’