LACKING VIRTUES Read Online Free Page A
Author: Thomas Kirkwood
indication of further trouble until the captain reported a wing fire. The entire flight was visible from the tower.”
Warner took over, his voice several octaves deeper. “Thank you, Simmons. Please put out the cigarette. The visual reports indicate that the fire, which was burning near the point at which engine number one left the wing, grew rapidly. Roughly one mile from the end of runway Two Six Right, the burning wing separated from the aircraft. It is lying in a field several hundred yards from the main body of the wreck.
“The aircraft, I’m sorry to say, slammed into the Ford plant just off Two Six Right. We’re told a late shift was working. You’re going to need a strong stomach for this one. Estimated casualties on the ground will easily make this the worst crash in history.”
“It had to happen sooner or later,” Jack Kendall said. He was the newest, youngest, and most idealistic member of the Go Team, bright and unseasoned. “I told you, chief, we should’ve pushed harder for Congress to set national standards on what can be built along approaches.”
“Maybe this will get their attention,” Warner said. “Words unfortunately don’t have much impact. Returning to the business at hand, the people from Boeing won’t be here until early morning. The Pratt & Whitney guys have a shorter flight. They should get in soon after us. We’ll convene for a quick briefing, then hit the field.
“Clifton and Ward, take the Pratt & Whitney people, a man from Delta and someone from the Airport Authority out to the engine. I want to know which way it was facing when it hit, if it was rotating, the usual. If it’s positioned in such a way that you have access to the mounting structures, I want a preliminary report. The mounting bolts? The mounts themselves? Any attached remnant of pylon that might indicate a crack, such as the one found on the DC-10 at O’Hare?”
“Right, sir. We’ll get it done.”
“Connors, McCauley and Johnson, the wing is yours.”
“Frank,” Johnson said. “You’ve indicated it’s out in a field somewhere. Are the authorities making certain it’s not disturbed or are they too involved with the main wreckage and the fire?”
“Good question. Allen, call the Atlanta P. D. and confirm that the cops are protecting the wing. If they tell you their men are all needed at the Ford plant, explain to them what happens to our investigation if the wing is tampered with.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try to make them understand.”
“Roth, I want you to coordinate the salvage operations. Find someone in the city government who can give you a listing of reliable local operators.”
“Right, Frank. Where are we going with the wreckage? Have you lined up anything yet?”
“No, but the old Eastern hangar at the airport is vacant again. If we can get it, it would be the most convenient place to reconstruct the aircraft.”
“Do you want me to check into that, too?”
“Please. Downey, you book the hotel. We’ll need a place for meetings and eleven rooms – unless some of you are volunteering for double occupancy.”
Jack Kendall said, “How long do you think we’ll be here, Frank? I promised my wife I’d give her my best guess.”
“Don’t get into the habit of doing that, Kendall. Families need to understand that you have no control over the length of an investigation. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I want the rest of you to come with me to the Ford plant. It won’t be a pretty sight, so prepare yourselves. I don’t know if this thought helps you at such times, but it helps me: for each body you see tonight, others who would have ended up the same way will live – if we control our guts and do our job.”
Simmons said, “By the way, Frank, I’ve chartered us a few helicopters from Peach-Tree DeKalb over to the main airport. A look at the accident site from the air seemed like a good
Warner took over, his voice several octaves deeper. “Thank you, Simmons. Please put out the cigarette. The visual reports indicate that the fire, which was burning near the point at which engine number one left the wing, grew rapidly. Roughly one mile from the end of runway Two Six Right, the burning wing separated from the aircraft. It is lying in a field several hundred yards from the main body of the wreck.
“The aircraft, I’m sorry to say, slammed into the Ford plant just off Two Six Right. We’re told a late shift was working. You’re going to need a strong stomach for this one. Estimated casualties on the ground will easily make this the worst crash in history.”
“It had to happen sooner or later,” Jack Kendall said. He was the newest, youngest, and most idealistic member of the Go Team, bright and unseasoned. “I told you, chief, we should’ve pushed harder for Congress to set national standards on what can be built along approaches.”
“Maybe this will get their attention,” Warner said. “Words unfortunately don’t have much impact. Returning to the business at hand, the people from Boeing won’t be here until early morning. The Pratt & Whitney guys have a shorter flight. They should get in soon after us. We’ll convene for a quick briefing, then hit the field.
“Clifton and Ward, take the Pratt & Whitney people, a man from Delta and someone from the Airport Authority out to the engine. I want to know which way it was facing when it hit, if it was rotating, the usual. If it’s positioned in such a way that you have access to the mounting structures, I want a preliminary report. The mounting bolts? The mounts themselves? Any attached remnant of pylon that might indicate a crack, such as the one found on the DC-10 at O’Hare?”
“Right, sir. We’ll get it done.”
“Connors, McCauley and Johnson, the wing is yours.”
“Frank,” Johnson said. “You’ve indicated it’s out in a field somewhere. Are the authorities making certain it’s not disturbed or are they too involved with the main wreckage and the fire?”
“Good question. Allen, call the Atlanta P. D. and confirm that the cops are protecting the wing. If they tell you their men are all needed at the Ford plant, explain to them what happens to our investigation if the wing is tampered with.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try to make them understand.”
“Roth, I want you to coordinate the salvage operations. Find someone in the city government who can give you a listing of reliable local operators.”
“Right, Frank. Where are we going with the wreckage? Have you lined up anything yet?”
“No, but the old Eastern hangar at the airport is vacant again. If we can get it, it would be the most convenient place to reconstruct the aircraft.”
“Do you want me to check into that, too?”
“Please. Downey, you book the hotel. We’ll need a place for meetings and eleven rooms – unless some of you are volunteering for double occupancy.”
Jack Kendall said, “How long do you think we’ll be here, Frank? I promised my wife I’d give her my best guess.”
“Don’t get into the habit of doing that, Kendall. Families need to understand that you have no control over the length of an investigation. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I want the rest of you to come with me to the Ford plant. It won’t be a pretty sight, so prepare yourselves. I don’t know if this thought helps you at such times, but it helps me: for each body you see tonight, others who would have ended up the same way will live – if we control our guts and do our job.”
Simmons said, “By the way, Frank, I’ve chartered us a few helicopters from Peach-Tree DeKalb over to the main airport. A look at the accident site from the air seemed like a good
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