Demille, Nelson - Mayday by Demille Nelson

Author:Demille, Nelson [Demille, Nelson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9780759525948
Google: H2nbnIElV0gC
Amazon: B000FA5SS4
Barnesnoble: B000FA5SS4
Goodreads: 10105387
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 1979-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

As he fell with his wife in his arms, Harold Stein raised his head up and stared at the Straton above him. In that split second he saw and identified a jet fighter hovering above and behind the huge aircraft. The silver image of a long rocket hanging from its belly stuck in his mind. In a clear flash of understanding, he knew what had happened to Flight 52.

Wayne Metz disengaged the BMW cruise control and took the airport entrance at sixty miles an hour. He drove directly to the Trans-United hangar and slipped the BMW into a VIP space. He sat staring up at the blue and yellow hangar for a full minute.

He had come up with a plan that could greatly reduce Beneficial’s enormous liability. A plan that would lessen his own liability as well.

The plan had not been difficult to formulate. It was an obvious one. The problem now was to convince Edward Johnson that their interests coincided, and that these mutual interests could best be served by Wayne Metz’s plan. He thought he knew Johnson well enough to risk approaching him.

Metz rummaged around his glove compartment and found his Trans-United ID card. He got out of his car and crossed the hot tarmac toward the hangar. He spotted the personnel entrance and quickened his pace. A group of airline employees stood near the door talking, and Metz brushed by them. He flashed his Trans-United “Official Visitor/Contractor” identification card at the guard, then pushed open the small inner door and mounted a flight of steps two at a time. He moved quickly down a long corridor and opened a blue door marked DISPATCH OFFICE.

Metz approached a clerk. “I’m here to see Edward Johnson.”

The clerk pointed to the glass-enclosed communications room. “Over there. But I don’t think he’s seeing anyone.”

“He’s seeing me.” Metz crossed the office and stood in front of one of the thick glass panels. In the small room he could see Edward Johnson looking down at a big machine. Another man stood next to him. In an instant, Metz could see that they were both highly tense, and guessed that the tension was not completely a result of the situation but was partly generated by a friction between the two men. Metz knew that his plan could work only if he were alone with Johnson. He watched for another few seconds. The other man appeared to be a subordinate. Johnson could get rid of him. Metz rapped sharply on the glass.

Johnson looked up, then walked to the door and unlocked it.

Wayne Metz entered the communications room. “Hello, Ed.”

The two men shook hands perfunctorily.

Johnson noticed that several of the employees were looking up from their work. He glared back at them, and heads lowered all over the office. He slammed the door and bolted it. “Goddamned center stage.” Everything in this damned Straton program was too visible. He motioned to Miller. “This is Jack Miller. He’s the senior dispatcher. Fifty-two was his flight.”

Metz nodded absently to Miller, then turned to Johnson.

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