Stavros focused the binoculars and scanned the scene again. Nothing had changed. The giant Boeing sat stoically, and he could see the exhaust heat and fumes behind each of the power plants. The various Emergency Service vehicles and the police cars held their positions. In the far distance, a similarly composed team sat well away from the runway, burning fuel and doing what everyone else was doing-nothing. Whoever it was that had been trying to get the pilot's attention-probably McGill-had given up and was standing there with his hands on his hips looking very stupid, Stavros thought, as though he were pissed off at the 747.
What didn't make sense to Stavros was the pilot's inaction. No matter what the problem was, a pilot's first inclination would be to clear an active runway at the earliest opportunity. Yet, the Boeing 747 just sat there.
Hernandez gave up on the radio and said to Stavros, 'Should I call someone?'
'There's no one left to call, Roberto. Who are we supposed to call? The people who are supposed to get the fucking aircraft out of there are standing around with their fingers up their nose. Who should I call next? My mother? She wanted me to be a lawyer-' Stavros realized he was losing it and calmed himself down. He took another long breath and said to Hernandez, 'Call those clowns down there.' He pointed toward the situation at the end of Four-Right. 'Call Guns and Hoses. McGill.'
'Yes, sir.'
Hernandez got on the radiophone and called Unit One, the lead Emergency Service vehicle. Sorentino answered and Hernandez asked, 'Situation report.' He hit the speaker phone button, and Sorentino's voice came up into the silent room. Sorentino said, 'I don't know what's happening.'
Stavros grabbed the radiophone and, trying to control his anxiety and annoyance, said, 'If you don't know, how am I supposed to know? You're there. I'm here. What is going on? Talk to me.'
There was a few seconds of silence, then Sorentino said, 'There's no sign of a mechanical problem… except-'
'Except what?'
'The pilot came in without reverse thrust. You understand?'
'Yes, I fucking well understand what reverse thrust is.'
'Yeah, so… McGill is trying to get the flight crew's attention-'
'The flight crew has everyone else's attention. Why can't we get their attention?'
'I don't know.' Sorentino asked, 'Should we board the aircraft?'
Stavros considered this question and wondered if he was the person to answer it. Normally, Emergency Service made that determination, but in the absence of a visible problem, the hotshots down there didn't know if they should board. Stavros knew that boarding an aircraft on the runway with its engines running was potentially dangerous to the aircraft and to the Emergency Service people, especially if no one knew the intentions of the pilot. What if the aircraft suddenly moved? On the other hand, there could be a problem on board. Stavros had no intention of answering the question and said to Sorentino, 'That's your call.'
Sorentino replied, 'Okay, thanks for the tip.'
Stavros didn't care for this guy's sarcasm and said, 'Look, it's not my job to-Hold on.' Stavros was aware of Hernandez holding a telephone out to him. 'Who is it?'
'A guy who asked for you by name. He says he's with the Justice Department. Says there's a fugitive on board Flight One-Seven-Five who's in custody, and he' wants to know what's happening.'
'Shit…' Stavros took the phone and said, 'This is Mr. Stavros.' He listened and his eyes widened. Finally, Stavros said, 'I understand. Yes, sir. The aircraft came in without radio contact and is still sitting at the end of Runway Four-Right. It's surrounded by Port Authority police and Emergency Service personnel. The situation is static.'
He listened, then replied, 'No, there's no indication of a real problem. There was no hijacking transponder call sent out, but the aircraft did experience a near miss-' He listened again, wondering if he should even mention the reverse thrust thing to someone who might overreact to a relatively minor mechanical problem, or maybe an oversight on the pilot's part. Stavros wasn't sure exactly who this guy was, but he sounded like he had power. Stavros waited until the man finished, then said, 'Okay, I understand. I'll get on it-' He looked at the dead phone, then handed it back to Hernandez. The decision had just been made for him and he felt better.
Stavros put the radiophone to his mouth and transmitted to Sorentino, 'Okay, Sorentino, you are to enter the aircraft. There's a fugitive on board. Business Class in the dome. He's cuffed and escorted so don't be pulling guns and scaring the passengers. But take the guy and his two escorts off the aircraft and have one of the patrol cars take them to Gate Twenty-three where they'll be met. Okay?'
'Roger. But I have to call my Tour Commander-'
'I don't give a shit who you call-just do what I asked. And when you get on board, find out what the problem is, and if there is no problem, tell that pilot to get off the damned runway and proceed to Gate Twenty-three. Lead him in.'
'Roger.'
'Call me after you board.'
'Roger.'
Stavros turned to Hernandez and said, 'To make matters worse, this Justice Department guy tells me not to reassign Gate Twenty-three to any other aircraft until he gives me the go-ahead. I don't assign gates. The Port Authority assigns gates. Roberto, call the Port Authority and tell them not to reassign Gate Twenty-three. Now we're short a gate.
Hernandez pointed out, 'With Four-Right and -Left closed, we don't need many gates.'
Stavros uttered an obscenity and stormed off to his office for an aspirin.
Ted Nash slipped his cell phone in his pocket and said to us, 'The aircraft came in without radio contact and is sitting at the end of the runway. There was no distress signal sent out, but the Control Tower doesn't know what the problem is. The Emergency Service people are there. As you heard, I told the Tower to have them enter the aircraft, bring our guys here, and keep the gate free.'
I said to my colleagues, 'Let's get out to the aircraft.'
George Foster, our fearless team leader, replied, 'The aircraft is surrounded by Emergency Service. Plus, we have two people on board. They don't need us there. The less that changes, the better.'
Ted Nash, as usual, stayed aloof, resisting the temptation to disagree with me.
Kate concurred with George, so I was the odd man out, as usual. I mean, if a situation is going down at Point A, why stand around at Point B?
Foster took out his cell phone and dialed one of the FBI guys on the tarmac. He said, 'Jim, this is George. Small change in plans. The aircraft has a problem on the runway, so a Port Authority car will bring Phil, Peter, and the subject to this gate. Call me when they get there, and we'll come down. Okay. Right.'
I said to George, 'Call Nancy and see if she's heard from Phil or Peter.'
'I was just going to do that, John. Thank you.' Foster dialed the Conquistador Club and got Nancy Tate on the phone. 'Have you heard from Phil or Peter?' He listened and said, 'No, the aircraft is still on the runway. Give me Phil's and Peter's phone numbers.' He listened and signed off, then dialed. He held the phone out to us, and we could hear the recorded message telling us our party was unavailable or out of the calling area. George then dialed the other number and again got the same message. He said to us, 'They probably have their phones off.'
That didn't get any salutes, so George added, 'You have to shut off the cell phones in flight. Even on the ground. But maybe one of them will break the rules and call the Conquistador Club. Nancy will call us.'
I thought about this. If I got worried every time I couldn't complete a cell phone call, I'd have ulcers by now. Cell phones and beepers suck anyway.
I considered the situation as an academic problem thrown at me by an instructor. At the Police Academy, they teach you to stick to your post or stick to the plan until ordered to do otherwise by a superior. But they also tell you to use good judgment and personal initiative if the situation changes. The trick is to know when to stick and when to move. By all objective standards, this was a time to stay put. But my instincts said to move. I used to trust my instincts more, but I was out of my element here, new to the job, and I had to assume these people knew what they were doing, which was nothing. Sometimes, nothing is the right thing.
Debra Del Vecchio's walkie-talkie squawked, and she held it to her ear, then said, 'Okay, thanks.' She said to us, 'Now they tell me that Air Traffic Control called Trans-Continental operations a while ago and reported that Flight One-Seven-Five was NO-RAD.'
