him, something mocking in its tone but menacing too, said:
The captain was rigid in his seat, sweat masking his face and streaking the collar of his uniform. One hand clutched at his stomach. The other was pressed on the intercom button on the wall beside him.
In two bounds the doctor reached him and leaned over the back of the seat, supporting him under the armpits. Dun was swearing between his clenched teeth, quietly and viciously.
“Take it easy, now,” said Baird. “We’d better get you away from there.”
“I did… what you said…” Dun gasped, closing his eyes and squeezing the words out in painful jerks. “It was too late… Give me something, Doc… Give me something, quickly… Got to hold out… get us down… She’s on autopilot but… got to get down… Must tell Control… must tell…” His mouth moved silently. With a desperate effort he tried to speak. Then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed.
“Quick, Miss Benson,” called Baird. “Help me get him out.”
Panting and struggling, they pulled Dun’s heavy body out of the pilot’s seat and eased him on to the floor alongside the first officer. Swiftly, Baird took out his stethoscope and made an examination. In a matter of seconds Janet had produced coats and a blanket; as soon as the doctor had finished she made a pillow for the captain and wrapped him round. She was trembling as she stood up again.
“Can you do what he asked, Doctor? Can you bring him round long enough to land the plane?”
Baird thrust his instruments back into his pockets. He looked at the banks of dials and switches, at the control columns still moving of their own accord. In the dim light from the battery of dials his features seemed suddenly much older, and unbearably weary.
“You are part of this crew, Miss Benson, so I’ll be blunt.” His voice was so hard that she flinched. “Can you face some unpleasant facts?”
“I — I think so.” In spite of herself, she faltered.
“Very well. Unless I can get all these people to a hospital quickly — very quickly — I can’t even be sure of saving their lives.”
“But…”
“They need stimulants, intravenous injections for shock. The captain too. He’s held out too long.”
“Is he very bad?”
“It will soon become critical — and that goes for the others as well.”
Barley audible, Janet whispered, “Doctor — what are we going to do?”
“Let me ask you a question. How many passengers are on board?”
“Fifty-six.”
“How many fish dinners did you serve?”
Janet struggled to remember. “About fifteen, I think. More people had meat than fish, and some didn’t eat at all as it was so late.”
“I see.”
Baird regarded her steadily. When he spoke again his voice was harsh, almost belligerent.
“Miss Benson, did you ever hear of long odds?”
Janet tried to focus on what he was saying.
“Long odds? Yes, I suppose so. I don’t know what it means.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Baird. “It means this. Out of a total field of fifty-six our one chance of survival depends on there being a person aboard this airplane who is not only qualified to land it but who also didn’t have fish for dinner tonight.”
His words hung between them as they stood there, staring at each other.
FIVE
CALMNESS, like an anodyne cushioning the shock, descended on Janet as the words of the doctor penetrated her mind. She met his eyes steadily, well aware of his unspoken injunction to prepare herself for death.
Until now part of her had refused to accept what was happening. While she busied herself tending the passengers and trying to comfort the sick, something had insisted that this was an evil nightmare, the sort of dream in which an everyday sequence of events is suddenly deflected into one of mounting horror by some totally unexpected but quite logical incident. At any moment, her inner voice had told her, she would wake up to find half the bedclothes on the floor and the traveling clock on her locker buzzing to herald another early-morning scramble to get ready before take-off.
Now that sense of unreality was swept away. She knew it was happening, really happening, to her, Janet Benson, the pretty twenty-one-year-old blonde who had learned to expect the turning glances of airport staff as she walked briskly along the pine-smelling corridors. Fear had gone from her, at least for the moment. She wondered, in the passing thought of an instant, what her family at home were doing, how it was possible for her life to be extinguished in a few seconds’ madness of shrieking metal without those who had borne her feeling even a tremor as they slept peacefully a thousand miles away.
“I understand, Doctor,” she said levelly. “Do you know of anyone on board with any experience of flying?”
She cast her mind over the passenger list, recalling the names. “There’s no one from the airline,” she said. “I don’t know… about anyone else. I suppose I’d better start asking.”
“Yes, you’d better,” said Baird slowly. “Whatever you do, try not to alarm them. Otherwise we may start a panic. Some of them know the first officer is sick. Just say the captain wondered if there’s someone with flying experience who could help with the radio.”
“Very well, Doctor,” said Janet quietly. “I’ll do that.”
She hesitated, as Baird obviously had something more to say. “Miss Benson — what’s your first name?” he asked.
“Janet.”
He nodded. “Janet — I think I made some remark earlier on about your training. It was unjustified and unforgivable — the comment of a stupid old man who could have done with more training himself. I’d like to take it back.”
Some of the color returned to her cheeks as she smiled — “I’d forgotten it,” she said. She moved towards the door, anxious to begin her questioning and to know the worst as quickly as she could. But Baird’s face was puckered in an effort of concentration, as if something at the back of his mind was eluding him. He frowned at the painted emergency-escape instructions on the side of the cabin, not seeing them,
“Wait,” he told her.
“Yes?” She paused, her hand on the catch of the door.
He snapped his fingers and turned to her. “I’ve got it. I knew someone had spoken to me about airplanes. That young fellow in the seat next to mine — the one who joined us at the last minute at Winnipeg—”
“Mr. Spencer?”
“That’s him. George Spencer. I forget exactly but he seemed to know something about flying. Get him up here, will you? Don’t tell him more than I’ve just said — we don’t want the other passengers to know the truth. But carry on asking them too, in case there’s someone else.”
“He just offered to help me,” said Janet, “so he must be unaffected by the food.”
“Yes, you’re right,” exclaimed Baird. “We both had meat. Get him, Janet.”
He paced the narrow cabin nervously while she was gone, then knelt to feel the pulse of the captain lying prone and unconscious beside the first officer. At the first sound of the door behind him he jumped to his feet, blocking the entrance. Spencer stood there, looking at him in bewilderment.
“Hullo, Doc,” the young man greeted him. “What’s this about the radio?”
“Are you a pilot?” Baird shot out, not moving.
“A long time ago. In the war. I wouldn’t know about radio procedures now, but if the captain thinks I can —”
