the data-link messages were a hoax. That’s why we delayed in calling. Second, like I said, this accident happened ass-backwards. Air Traffic Control is always the first to find out, and they, in turn, notify the airline involved. Having a distress message come in on the company data-link is highly unusual. Actually, it’s never happened to any airline. It isn’t even covered in the company’s emergency handbook. And don’t forget that you asked me not to call any-”
Metz shook his head impatiently. “This FAA business is no concern of mine. I only want to plan our announcement before you make any calls. We should keep the operations and the liability conversations separate. Otherwise, it might compromise our posture in court. I need a minute with you. One minute.”
Johnson looked at Miller. “Jack…”
Miller shook his head. “Now, wait a minute. Flight 52 is my flight, Ed. I have to know what’s going on.”
Johnson put his hand on Miller’s shoulder. “This is just insurance crap, Jack. You don’t want to hear it, because if you do, you’ll be asked about it someday. Give us just one minute.”
Miller looked at the two men. Trans-United was still like a big family-but it had become a family that had something to hide. Miller realized that there was no point in trying to buck Edward Johnson-not on this point. “All right…” He walked to the door and left the room.
Johnson rebolted the door, then turned back to Metz. “Okay. You have your minute.”
Metz took a deep breath and sat himself in a chair. “Okay. We’ve got to be very careful from a liability standpoint. We can’t contribute to the problems of the Straton. Legally, we’re better off doing nothing than doing the wrong things.”
“In other words, don’t give them landing instructions?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. The courts and juries have set the precedent. Everyone’s a Monday- morning quarterback. Whatever you do now will be judged later in court and it will be judged by the results of your actions, not your good intentions. In other words, if you talk him down and he crashes, you’re worse off than if you hadn’t tried. Your only obligation as I see it is to mount a rescue operation.”
Johnson looked at Metz. He was saying one thing but meaning something else. “That sounds like bullshit to me. But if that’s true, then we’ve done the right thing so far by sitting on our thumbs and not giving Berry correspondence courses in flying a supersonic jet. And I’ll tell you something else-talking a pilot down by radio is a bitch; talking him into a final approach and landing by data-link is a joke. When I get the chief pilot here and tell him what he has to do, he’ll shit.” He paused. “Of course, with the way my luck has been going, Fitzgerald will pull it off and become an overnight national hero. He and Berry will do the talk-show circuit. Terrific.”
Metz sat up in his chair. “Then there is a chance that the Straton can be landed?”
Johnson shrugged. “There’s always a chance. Stranger things have happened in the air. All kinds of bullshit about God in the copilot’s seat, bombers landing with dead crews, mysterious lights showing the way to the airport in a storm. And don’t forget that Berry may well be an excellent pilot. Who knows?”
Metz nodded. The phone call from Air Traffic Control was something he hadn’t planned on, and he wondered what other surprises were still in store. He had to have more facts. “Why doesn’t Air Traffic Control know where the Straton is? Aren’t they supposed to be watching on radar?”
“There’s no radar that far out over the ocean. Each aircraft determines its own position, then radios it in to ATC. They, in turn, work like a central clearinghouse. They coordinate the flights so that none of them try to fly the same route at the same time. With the Straton 797 it’s very simple. It flies so high that there’s no one else up there except for an occasional Concorde or a military jet. That’s probably why ATC isn’t too excited by the loss of radio contact with 52. There’s nobody up there to conflict with.”
Metz leaned forward in his chair. “Then Air Traffic Control still thinks the Straton is on its normal course and headed for… Where did you say… Japan?”
“Right.” Johnson heard an unmistakable tone of eagerness in Metz’s voice. Clearly, the man was leading up to something, and his first statement about not giving landing instructions was a clue. That bullshit about courts and juries was just a trial balloon. Maybe Metz had something that would lessen their personal liability in this thing.
Metz stared down at the floor. There was an exact psychological moment to go in for the kill, and it had not yet arrived-but it was close. He looked up. “So it’s not unusual to lose radio contact?”
Johnson nodded. “Not too. Radios have problems. I’m told that all sorts of things affect radios at sixty-two thousand feet. Sunspots. The variables of the stratosphere. But all those things are temporary. If contact isn’t established soon, everyone will know there’s been trouble.”
Metz nodded again. “So if ATC can later pinpoint the time of the accident, Trans-United is in trouble?”
Johnson didn’t answer.
Metz let the statement take hold for a few seconds, then changed the subject. “How far out will the Air Traffic Control radar pick up the Straton?”
“Depends on altitude. They’re flying low now. They won’t be seen by radar until they get within fifty miles of the coast.”
“That close?”
“Right. But what the hell does this have to do with my liability coverage, Wayne? You’re like my goddamned automobile insurance broker. Wants to know all about the accident while I want to know when you’re going to pay.”
Metz forced a smile. “It’s all related.”
“Is it?” Johnson could sense that Metz was about to make a proposition, and he tried to look less intimidating and more receptive. He sat down on a high stool and smiled. “What are you getting at, Wayne? Time’s wasting.”
“I can speak freely?”
“Sure. Just cut through all the bullshit and give it to me straight. If it sounds good for Ed Johnson and Trans-United, you probably have a deal. But if it sounds good for Wayne Metz and company, I’m going to toss your ass out of this office. Hurry. I have to call ATC.”
Metz stood. He looked at Ed Johnson for a long time, then spoke softly. “Ed… the Straton has to go down. And it has to go down over the water, not over land. No survivors on the aircraft. No further casualties on the ground.”
Johnson stood also. Metz’s proposition was not a complete surprise. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
Metz exhaled softly. Johnson had not immediately thrown him out of the office, and that in itself was encouraging. He knew enough to say nothing further.
Johnson turned and faced the Pacific chart. He stared up at it, then looked down at the floor and began pacing. He stopped and stared at Metz. “Okay. I’ll bite. What do we gain if it goes down in the drink?”
Metz knew he was in a position to score. He let the silence drag on, then he spoke. “We gain everything. We save our companies, our jobs, and we insure our future prosperity in this rat race of life.”
“All that? Sounds great. And all we have to do is commit mass murder.”
“This is no joke, Ed.”
“No, it’s not. Murder is no joke.” He paused. “And how would you propose we deep-six that Straton? There are no guided missiles or fighters in our fleet at the moment.”
“We’ll come to that later-if you’re interested.” Metz glanced at the door as though he were offering to leave.
Johnson pretended not to see the offer. “I’m interested. I’m interested in listening.”
Metz nodded. “All right. Listen to this. Beneficial’s liability potential is manageable if those people die. The death benefit wouldn’t be pleasant to pay, but it’s within our calculable exposure. We’ll pay it all, and we won’t involve Trans-United.” He paused. “But
… if they come back and that pilot is correct about their condition, our liability is enormous. Beyond enormous. It would bankrupt Beneficial Insurance and-”
“Before they paid all the bills?”
“That’s right. We will be totally liable for each of those three hundred poor bastards for the remainder of their lives. And we’d be totally liable to every relative and organization that is dependent on them. Potentially, that liability might span another seventy-five years.”
“And Trans-United might get stuck for the amount you couldn’t pay?”
