Mayday at Two Thousand Five Hundred Read Online Free Page A

universal emergency frequency and called, “Aircraft in distress, this is Boeing Tower. Come in.” No answer. She repeated the call. Still no answer.
    â€œThey’re near Auburn. They might be on the Auburn airport frequency,” Parker thought out loud. “Bob, switch over to Auburn frequency. See if you pick up anything.”
    Bob Konishi, a youthful Asian-American, manned his radio panel, dialed in the frequency, and listened.
    â€œWe have two targets on the radar,” Maxwell reported. “The seven-seven might be following another aircraft.”
    Konishi waved his hand. “I’ve got something!”
    â€œPut it on the speaker,” Parker said.
    Konishi flipped a switch and the whole room could hear the voice of Chuck Westmore crackling from the overhead speaker: “You’re doing real good, Jay. Now remember, when you can’t see the ground outside, your body can lie to you. You can think you’re turning when you aren’t and think you’re flying level when you’re turning. You’ll just have to ignore what your body is telling you and listen to me. Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” Jay’s voice answered.
    â€œNow stand by. I’m going to make a call and get some help. Just hang on.”
    Parker looked at Maxwell. She was monitoring the distress frequency. She would most likely get his message.
    She nodded back. She was getting it, and switched it to the overhead speaker: “Mayday, Mayday, Piper Cub Eight Eight Niner in distress, anyone who hears me, please respond.”
    Maxwell replied through her headset, “November Eight Eight Niner, Boeing Tower, go ahead.”
    Chuck had two radios in his Cub. One was tuned to talk to Jay, the second was tuned to talk on the emergency frequency. It was on the second radio that Chuck got the response from Boeing Tower. He answered, “Eight eight niner about ten miles southeast of Auburn Municipal at two thousand five hundred feet. I’m following a Cessna Skylane. I’m in contact with the passenger. The pilot is unconscious. The passenger is conscious but blind.”
    The people in the tower were dumbfounded. Parker’s eyes narrowed. “Say again,” he prompted Maxwell.
    â€œSay again,” she told Chuck.
    Chuck’s voice came over the speaker, “The Skylane encountered wake turbulence from a lowflying 757. The pilot was knocked unconscious. His passenger, a young man, is conscious, but is injured and he can’t see.”
    â€œThe WestAir 757,” Parker muttered. He started barking out orders. “Bob, declare an emergency for November Eight Eight Niner, ground all aircraft leaving and redirect all aircraft arriving. Johnny, get the airport manager on the phone and tell him what we’ve got. We need the airport closed.” Johnny Adair, a plump man in his forties, grabbed up the telephone at his station. Parker quickly added, “And tell him we need emergency vehicles on stand-by.” Adair nodded as he punched in the phone number. Parker went to his own station and put on his headset. “Eight Eight Niner, Seattle Tower. Does the Skylane have an autopilot?”
    Chuck was straining to see the Skylane, still shrinking as it flew farther and farther ahead of him.
    â€œThe passenger doesn’t know.”
    â€œDo you know who owns the airplane?”
    â€œRex Kramer. He keeps it there at Boeing Field.”
    â€œWhere at Boeing Field?”
    â€œI’ll have to ask the passenger if he knows. But listen, before the accident, Rex told me he’d just been out to Mount Rainier, so I’m sure he filed a flight plan.”
    Parker signaled Josie Fleming, a sharp-looking African-American controller who also worked as a flight instructor. She immediately started putting the information into a computer terminal as she heard it from Chuck.
    â€œCan you give us a spelling on that last name?”
    Parker requested.
    Chuck spelled it,