Stained River (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

The 767-200 slipped through thin atmosphere, encountering virtually no headwind. Some weather disturbances to the far southeast were reported, but radar showed no turbulence immediately ahead. The captain, unlike many, preferred to hand fly to cruise altitude. Now with the least demanding part of his job about to begin, he ordered the autopilot turned on, removed his jacket and hung it on the hanger behind his seat. Then he buzzed for the flight attendant and a cup of coffee. Passengers settled for the long ride, relaxed into sleep, a book or laptop.

Despite its apparent smooth performance, the jet was one of the older pieces of equipment in Global Air's aging fleet. The model, the earliest of its type, placed in service more than eighteen years before,
had a log showing thousands of takeoffs and landings; far more than most commercial craft that age. In recent years, its maintenance history was riddled with problems, some documented improperly, some not at all. Global had outsourced maintenance to an offshore firm suspected of taking short cuts on engine inspection, among other things. No one followed up on rumors that the firm’s work and procedural methods went beyond shoddy.

High-ranking
executives were aware that cheap after-market parts replaced original worn parts and that engine inspections were delayed. No one, it seemed, wanted to interfere with cost reduction efforts. While the airline appeared successful, financial problems were mounting. Within a year, the price of jet fuel almost doubled. Fares went up, passenger miles declined. The company cancelled orders for fifty new planes, deciding to repaint the old ones. Make them look like new. At the same time, it reduced maintenance costs substantially.

The jet’s left engine sparked an unlikely series of events. After thousands of hours in flight, a single blade ruptured at the point where it connects to the turbine disk. Months before, it began as a small crack undiscovered by poorly trained inspection crews. High cycle fatigue caused it to grow in size until the turbine could no longer stand ordinary stress. Flight 302, continuing from Lima, would provide the last bit.

A hard bump jolted passengers when the blade shattered. Instantly, all other rotating blades and vanes were destroyed. The plane shook as the engine tore itself apart internally, a burst of flame shot from the exhaust. What happened was highly unusual. A contained failure accompanied by rapid deceleration and altitude loss. Passengers panicked with the sudden drop. Even those more experienced with commercial flying were alarmed.

On the flight deck, the captain’s eyes shifted immediately to instruments that confirmed what he already knew. Warning lights and gauges indicated the turbine compressor speed had died. The engine pressure ratio registered zero. The left engine exhaust temperature climbed since there were no turbines left to turn
, while heat energy exhausted through the nozzle that propels the engine. Despite that, the housing held intact. For that, he was thankful. Had it shattered, pieces of metal could have torn open the fuselage or damaged the rudder.

He acted quickly to control the vibrating craft and cut fuel to the left engine. The first officer re
acted immediately. Flames, briefly visible on the left side, were extinguished. Simultaneously, thrust to the right engine increased. The fire went out and the plane responded remarkably well considering that half its power was lost.

“Never had that happen.” The captain said to his first officer.

“Brasilia ATC. This is Global Air- Flight 302-Alpha, Charlie four zero seven, seven, one, X-ray. Do you read?

“Go ahead, Global Air.”

“We have an emergency- request instructions to land. We need the closest runway that can take something this size. We are heavy. Repeat, we are heavy. I need to dump fuel.”

“We have you, Global. One minute, please.”

He was uneasy, yet knew he could fly with only one engine. Years of reliability statistical analysis confirmed double engine failure during flight as highly improbable. They would make it, but he had 225 frightened, angry passengers to pacify. For the second time within an hour, he turned on the intercom. The first announcement was merely one of those travel aggravations; a weather problem at Brasilia, flight diversion, delayed arrival. This one had far more serious implications that would test all his skills. He made the announcement in a composed voice, choosing his words carefully and downplaying the severity.

“Well… this flight hasn’t been among our best. What happened back there was a mechanical problem with the left engine. If you are on that side, you noticed a small amount of flame and smoke. I've shut it down, but we’re quite capable of flying safely with only one engine until we reach the nearest airport. Once I receive clearance, we'll be landing at an alternate site, and you'll be assigned another flight. I apologize again for the inconvenience.”

The passengers were nervous. He hoped his measured words calmed them.
Mechanical problem?
‘
It was a goddamned engine failure, not a mere mechanical problem. Wasn’t this plane just checked out?’
He expressed his feelings succinctly to the only person within earshot, his first officer. Indeed, the passengers had calmed when the flames were extinguished, and the plane continued in flight. It almost appeared as if nothing was amiss. Despite a brief adjustment to maintain altitude, pitch and control, the captain, with many hours of flight simulator training, adapted quickly. But there was something else. He changed course with the diversion to Sao Paulo. That was a while back. He was flying over the deep Amazon. What was available in the vicinity that could take a plane that size? Impatiently, he awaited the response from air traffic control

“C’mon. C’mon. You’re taking forever!”

“Global 302 you are cleared for emergency landing on runway 27 at Porto Velho. You have priority. Turn to a heading of…”

This time he barked at the traffic controller to make sure he fully understood the urgency of the situation.

“ATC this is Global 302. Porto Velho is too far! Get something closer!”

The words and tone were completely out of character, but he was a seasoned pilot who communicated effectively. In an emergency, no one would misunderstand his situation or intended actions. Not the air traffic controller, not the people at Global Air, and certainly not the head flight attendant he now summoned to the flight deck for a briefing. They were past the worst. More could have gone wrong, but didn’t. Maybe they were lucky. He just needed instructions on where to proceed and what to do about excess fuel.

CHAPTER THREE

Flight deck- Global Air 302

What he thought would be a ‘piece of cake’ flight had turned into a nightmare since departing Lima. First the diversion because of weather around Brasilia, followed by the worst in- flight event he had ever experienced. Sure, in twenty-three years as a commercial pilot there were things that stuck in his mind, but never the loss of an engine. What else could go wrong? He began his turn south toward an airport he was unfamiliar with. It took all he had to keep the aircraft steady on one engine. Just then, he noticed the first officer reaching overhead, turning one switch on, another off, looking closely at the instrument gages. The fatal words were conveyed in a matter of fact way.  “W
e're losing oil pressure on No.2 or this gauge is screwy.
”

The captain
listened with disbelief. Loss of one engine was recoverable; loss of two, catastrophic.

“Are you sure? Check again.”

“I’m sure.”

He
reached for the satellite phone.

“This is Global 302.
Mayday! Mayday! Our situation is changing rapidly. Possibility of losing the second engine. Confirm coordinates…”

As he spoke, the attendant
summoned to the flight deck earlier heard the international distress call.

“What's happening? It’s a mess back there.
What’s going on?”

“Listen carefully! There isn’t much time.”

His instructions to her were minimal;

“P
repare the passengers for emergency landing. Make sure everyone braces for impact, especially you and the other attendants. You will need every bit of your training in crash procedures.”

Shaken, she re-entered the cabin, trying to exhibit a calm smile, but her composure betrayed a tenseness read by nearly everyone.

Their suspicions were confirmed when the plane began an unusually rapid descent. There was nothing to suggest a controlled glide path. The mechanical problem mentioned earlier, had apparently ignited something more severe. Below, they saw only varied shades of green broken by the glint of sun flashing off a winding river.

T
hen the chilling last words.

“Attendants, prepare for emergency landing
!”

The hope
there was anything that could come close to a landing was blatantly false, and he knew it. There was nothing but jungle below. Both pilots watched the pressure gauge decline toward zero. Then, with no oil supply, the right engine seized. Their most optimistic expectations were not to be realized. The unthinkable, the occurrence that never could happen, happened. Both engines had failed, disavowing all statistical analysis. The first officer flipped pages of a manual looking for information that could right the situation, or at least provide a little more time. He searched for a solution he doubted existed.

Terrence Connery, the talk of Wall Street, owner of a top-flight hedge fund, rich beyond the dreams of most, followed instructions from outwardly calm attendants. He hadn’t experienced a rapid loss of altitude quite like it. So acute, vomit rose in his throat. This was far more than severe turbulence. The first incident had shaken him, but the captain followed it with reassurance that calmed many aboard. Clearly, the situation now was desperate and the final words, dire. A feeling of helplessness washed over him. They would crash. Nothing he or any of the others could do would change that. What worried him only a short while ago was no longer of significance. His mind focused instead on the last few minutes left in his life. The fast approaching terrain sealed the fate of Flight 302. Rivers and tributaries, threads of glistening sunlight at high altitude, changed to turbid brown as the ground came closer. Critical flight maneuvers slowed the plane's descent, only to delay the inevitable. Too low to be picked up by radar, they leveled out, but that was small consolation. The 200 ton jet would pancake into towering trees at over 200 miles an hour, far from the last coordinates given.  His life would end in the middle of nowhere.
But
w
ho would care?
Not his estranged wife, not his so called friends, and certainly not his clients who would soon learn their investments with Hawthorne Capital no longer existed.

He
bent forward and grabbed his knees. Was it too late to ask forgiveness for his selfish mistakes? Others may have been thinking similar thoughts. Few sounds came from the packed cabin as initial panic turned into acceptance of imminent death. The plane plunged downward, no whine from the turbines, no hopeful thump of wheels preparing to touch an imagined runway.  The attendant uttered last minute instructions to the terrified passengers, no sign of despondence in her voice. The steep pitch prevented her from walking the aisle for a final inspection, but certain everything possible had been done, she strapped into her jump seat, placed her hands on her lap and closed her eyes.

The sea of green came closer. Five hundred feet, two hundred, one hundred, then violent impact as the plane hit the tallest trees, cutting a wide swath in an explosion of metal against wood. Century old mahoganies snapped like twigs. Flames and debris shot skyward. 
Connery’s head slammed into the seat in front, his body whipped violently as the plane tore apart. A glimpse of blue sky, then the person beside him disappeared, seat and all.

CHAPTER FOUR

He came from a small town in Indiana where grain silos defined the horizon and holiday parades followed the same script year after year; fire truck, ambulance, boy scouts, cub scouts, then brownies. The few majorettes in short skirts twirled flashing batons. These he knew well, some intimately. They competed for his attention and considered him top jock, first choice. Just behind them, town officials waved mechanically from an aging yellow Cadillac convertible. Down Main Street, twice around the town
green and it was over in a half hour.