booths.
“Naturally there is some risk,” Howard conceded, “which is why the precaution has been taken, of clearing the immediate vicinity. The situation is pretty tight, I freely admit, but there’s no reason to—”
“Some risk!” echoed Jessup. “I’ve done a little flying myself — I can imagine what that guy is going through. Let’s have more about him.”
Howard spread his hands. “I know nothing more about him than that.”
“What!” exclaimed Stephens. “That’s all you know about someone who’s trying to bring in a shipload of — how many people
“Fifty-nine, I believe, including the crew. I’ve got a copy of the passenger list for you, if you’ll just—”
“Cliff,” said Jessup grimly, “if you hole up on this one…”
“I’ve told you, Jess, that’s all I have on him. We all wish we knew more, but we don’t. He seems to be doing well, on the last report.”
“How long have we got before the crash?” Abrahams pressed.
Howard jerked round to him. “Don’t assume that,” he retorted. “She’s due in round about an hour, maybe less.”
“Are you beaming her in?”
“I’m not sure, but I think Captain Treleaven intends to talk her down. Everything is fully under control. The airlanes and the field have been cleared. The city fire department is moving in extra help, just in case.”
“Suppose she overshoots into the water?”
“That’s not likely, but the police have alerted every available launch to stand by. I’ve never known such complete precautions.”
“Wow, what a story!” Abrahams shouted and dived into the nearest booth, keeping the door open while he dialed so that he could continue to listen.
“Cliff,” said Jessup, with some sympathy for the public relations man, “how long will the gas last in this ship?”
“I can’t say, but there’s bound to be a safety margin,” answered Howard, loosening his tie. He sounded far from convinced.
Jessup looked at him for a second or two with narrowed eyes. Then it struck him. “Wait a minute,” he shot out. “If there’s food poisoning on board, it can’t be only the pilots who’ve gone down with it?”
“I’ll need all the help you can send,” Abrahams was saying into the telephone. “I’ll give it to you as I get it. When you’ve got enough to close for the first run, you’d better pull it up both ways — for the crash, and for miracle landing — and hold it. Okay? Switch me to Bert. Bert, you ready? Starts. ‘At dawn this morning Vancouver Airport witnessed the worst —’”
“Look, Jess,” said Howard urgently, “this is dynamite. You can have it all the way, but for pity’s sake play it fair to the people upstairs. They’re working like crazy. There’s nothing that could help the people in that aircraft that isn’t being done.”
“You know us all here, Cliff. We won’t cross you up. What
“A number of them are ill, but there’s a doctor on board who is giving what treatment he can. We have further medical advice available on the radio if required. The stewardess is okay and she’s helping Spencer, relaying the messages. You’ve got the lot now.”
“Food poisoning is a mighty serious thing,” Jessup pursued relentlessly. “I mean, the time factor is everything.”
“That’s so.”
“If those people don’t get down pretty damn soon, they could even — die?”
“That’s about it,” Howard agreed, tight-lipped.
“But — but this is a world story! What’s the position up there now?”
“Well, about ten, fifteen minutes ago—”
“That’s no good!” Jessup roared. “A few minutes can change the whole situation in a thing like this. Get the position now, Cliff. Who’s duty controller tonight? Ring him — or I will, if you like.”
“No, not for a while, Jess, please. I tell you they’re—”
Jessup gripped the public relations man by the shoulder. “You’ve been a newspaperman, Cliff. Either way this will be the biggest air story for years and you know it. In an hour’s time you’ll have a tiger on your back — this place will be stiff with reporters, newsreels, TV, the lot. You’ve got to help us now, unless you want us busting out all over the airport. Get us the exact present position and you can take a breather for a few minutes while we get our stories through.”
“Okay, okay. Ease off, will you?” Howard picked up an internal telephone from the table. “This is Howard. Control Room, please.” He pulled down his lower lip at Jessup. “You’ll get me crucified. Hullo, Control? Is Burdick there? Put me on, it’s urgent Hullo, Harry? Cliff. The press are crowding up, Harry. I can’t hold them much longer. They want the full situation as of now. They’ve got deadlines to meet.”
“Of course!” snorted Burdick sarcastically in the control room. “Certainly! We’ll arrange for the flight to crash before their deadlines. Anything for the newspapers!”
“Take it easy, Harry,” urged Howard. “These guys are doing their job.”
Burdick lowered the telephone and said to the controller, who was standing with Treleaven before the radio panel, “Mr. Grimsell. Things are boiling up a bit for Cliff Howard. I don’t want to leave here. Do you think Stan could take a few minutes out to talk to the press?”
“I think so,” answered the controller. He looked over to his assistant. “What about it? We’d better keep those boys under control. You could make it fast.”
“Sure, sir. I’ll do that.”
“No point in holding back,” Burdick advised. “Tell ’em the whole thing — up to and excluding this,” and he nodded to the radio panel.
“I get it. Leave it to me.” The assistant left the room.
“The assistant controller is coming down, Cliff,” said Burdick and rang off. He heaved his bulk over to the two men at the radio panel, mopping his face with a crumpled handkerchief. “Are you getting anything?” he asked in a flat voice.
Treleaven shook his head. He did not turn. His face was gray with fatigue. “No,” he said dully. “They’ve gone.”
The controller rapped to the switchboard operator, “Teletype Calgary and Seattle, priority. Find out if they’re still receiving 714.”
“714, 714. Vancouver Control to 714. Come in, 714,” called the radio operator steadily into the microphone.
Treleaven leaned against the radio desk. The pipe in his hand was dead. “Well,” he said wearily, “this could be the end of the line.”
“714, 714. Do you hear me? Come in, please.”
“I can’t take much more,” said Burdick. “Here, Johnnie,” to one of the clerks, “get some more coffee, for the love of Mike. Black and strong.”
“Hold it!” exclaimed the radio operator.
“Did you get something?” asked the controller eagerly.
“I don’t know… I thought for a minute—”
Bending close to the panel, his headset on, the operator made minute adjustments to his fine tuning controls. “Hullo, 714, 714, this is Vancouver.” He called over his shoulder, “I can hear
“We’ll have to take a chance,” said Treleaven. “Tell them to change frequency.”
“Flight 714,” called the operator. “This is Vancouver. This is Vancouver. Change your frequency to 128.3 Do you hear that? Frequency 128.3.”
Treleaven turned to the controller. “Better ask the Air Force for another radar check,” he suggested. “They should be on our own scope soon.”
“714. Change to frequency 128.3 and come in,” the operator was repeating.
Burdick plumped back on to a corner of the center table. His hand left a moist mark on the woodwork. “This
