- •Part one
- •Instinctively, Mel did. It was three quarters of an hour since he had left Danny Farrow at the Snow Control Desk. Getting up from the table, he told Tanya, "Don't go away. I have to make a call."
- •In the elevator going up, he remembered another good thing. The flight to Rome would be an easy one.
- •Vernon Demerest did too. On several occasions Anson Harris had heard Demerest speak disdainfully of the company's shirts and point to the superior quality of his own.
- •In a second echelon, farther to the right, were two more plows, a second Snowblast.
- •It was done; on the radar screen, blips were changing direction.
- •It was also the last day of his life.
- •It would be simpler if Mel didn't. Keith felt unequal to the effort, even though they had been as close as brothers could be all their lives. Mel's presence might be complicating.
- •I won't be home for a few days. I'm going away. I expect to have some good news soon which will surprise you.
- •In two strides the lieutenant was beside him. "You heard me! Right now!"
- •It was said so casually that at first the words failed to register. He reacted blankly. "You're what?"
- •In return for all this, the airline asked three assurances from the stewardess---hence the Three-Point Pregnancy Program.
- •It was the reason that Keith Bakersfeld had decided on suicide tonight.
- •It was the only time Natalie had hinted at the possibility of their marriage breaking up. It was also the first time Keith considered suicide.
- •It took a dozen rings, then several minutes more of waiting, before the Avis manager's voice came on the line. "Ken Kingsley here."
- •Vernon Demerest seemed not to notice. "Now, madam and gentlemen, we come to the most significant, the vital point."
- •Vernon Demerest flushed. He was accustomed to command, not to being questioned. His temper, never far below the surface, flashed. "Madam, are you normally stupid or just being deliberately obtuse?"
- •In the spectator section, Captain Demerest shot to his feet. "Great God!---how many disasters do we need to have?"
- •In the corridor outside, Vernon Demerest was waiting for Mel.
- •It had not always been that way.
- •It occurred to Cindy that perhaps she could manage both.
- •Vernon Demerest grinned. "I guess your manuals are okay, Anson. I've changed my mind; I won't inspect them."
- •It was Gwen Meighen who met the three pilots as they came aboard the aircraft. She asked, "Did you hear?"
- •Inez could see the drugstore clock. By now, it was nearly five past ten.
- •Inez began, "Isn't there any way..."
- •Ignoring the snow, which swirled about him like a scene from South with Scott, Patroni considered, alculating the possibilities of success.
- •Ingram grunted. "They're aboard. The goddarn captain and first officer."
- •It was the opening Demerest had been waiting for. He said carefully, "It needn't be shattering. What's more, we don't have to be parents unless we choose to be."
- •It was Guerrero, appearing hurried and nervous, whom Captain Vernon Demerest had seen arrive there, carrying his small attaché case which contained the dynamite bomb.
- •Vernon Demerest, who had just copied their complicated route clearance, received by radio---a task normally performed by the absent First Officer---nodded. "Damn right! I would too."
- •Is there something else; that you've never told?"
- •It was Keith's turn to nod. "I'm going to."
- •Instead of telephoning the Snow Control Desk, Mel walked down one floor of the control tower and went in. Danny Farrow was still presiding over the busy snow clearance command console.
- •In the taxi, Cindy opened her eyes and mused.
- •It was over now. Both knew it. Only details remained to be attended to.
- •It was Lieutenant Ordway. He entered, closing the door behind him. When he saw Cindy, he said, "Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Bakersfeld."
- •It was Mel's turn to see the reporters' pencils racing with his words.
- •In the cockpit, the pilots completed their checklist.
- •It was what Joe Patroni had feared.
- •It was when the agent had gone and Inez realized that despite the press of people around her in the terminal, she was utterly alone, that she began to cry.
- •Issued a policy. Are you people
- •Inez nodded slowly.
- •Inez shook her head. "Only, that... If you knew how to handle them... They were safe."
- •Inez whispered, "They were gone!"
- •Vernon Demerest regarded her searchingly. "I don't have to tell you that this is important. If you've any doubt, go back and make sure."
- •Ignoring him, Gwen gave Mrs. Quonsett a shove which sent her staggering. "You heard me! Sit down and be quiet."
- •In the unlikely event... And... Government regulations require that we inform you.
- •In the drill for explosive decompression one rule was fundamental: the crew took care of themselves first. Vernon Demerest observed the rule; so did Anson Harris and Cy Jordan.
- •Vernon Demerest was clambering over the smashed flight deck door and other debris outside. Hurrying in, he slid into his seat on the right side.
- •It was this effect which d. O. Guerrero had not allowed for. He had blundered and miscalculated from the beginning. He bungled the explosion, too.
- •It was then that Lieutenant Ordway and Mel Bakersfeld came down together from the administrative mezzanine.
- •In front of Mel a broadcast microphone had joined the hand mike he was using. The tv lights were on as he continued.
- •Vernon Demerest's voice came calmly on the cabin p.A. System a few moments later.
- •Vernon Demerest, his face paler than usual, had been steeling himself to copy the doctor's information onto the flight log clipboard. Now, with sudden shock, he stopped.
- •Vernon Demerest reasoned: So far as Gwen was concerned, he might just as well make a decision now.
- •It would also pose the question: just how far would Sarah go?
- •Isn't there?
- •Inside the car the reporter, Tomlinson, whistled softly. Tanya turned toward Mel, her eyes searching his face.
- •It almost did, at the news of Mel's intention.
- •Inside the car, the reporter asked again, "Mr. Bakersfeld, could you name a few of those people---the most imaginative ones about airports and the future?"
- •In smooth succession, engines four, two, and one followed.
- •In the hope of rocking the wheels free, Patroni slackened engine power, then increased it.
- •In the worst way, though, he needed a cigar. Suddenly Joe Patroni remembered---hours ago, Mel Bakersfeld bet him a box of cigars he couldn't get this airplane free tonight.
- •In mel Bakersfeld's car, on the runway, Tanya cried, "He's done it! He's done it!"
- •It was the speed at which they must pass over the airfield boundary, allowing both for weight and the jammed stabilizer.
- •If it does, Demerest thought, at a hundred and fifty knots we've had it...
- •Vernon Demerest clicked his mike button twice---an airman's shorthand "thank you."
- •I'm glad we had our ration With love and passion.
- •It would still take time, though, to adjust.
It was then that Lieutenant Ordway and Mel Bakersfeld came down together from the administrative mezzanine.
Several minutes earlier the meeting in Mel's office had broken up. After the interrogation of Inez Guerrero and dispatch of the second warning message to Flight Two, there was nothing to be gained by retaining everyone together. Tanya Livingston, with the Trans America D.T.M. and chief pilot, returned anxiously to the airline's Offices in the terminal, to await any fresh news there. The others---with the exception of Inez Guerrero, who was being held for questioning by downtown police detectives---returned to their own bailiwicks. Tanya had promised to notify Customs Inspector Standish, who was distressed and anxious about his niece aboard Flight Two, immediately there was any new development.
Mel, not certain where he would keep his own vigil, left his office with Ned Ordway.
Ordway saw the Meadowood demonstration first and caught sight of Elliott Freemantle. "That damn lawyer! I told him there'd be no demonstrations here." He hurried toward the concourse crowd. "I'll break this up fast."
Alongside, Mel cautioned, "He may be counting on you doing that---just so he can be a hero."
As they came nearer, Ordway shouldering his way ahead through the crowd, Elliott Freemantle proclaimed, "Despite assurances from the airport management earlier this evening, heavy air traffic---deafening and shattering as always---is still continuing at this late hour. Even now..."
"Never mind that," Ned Ordway cut in brusquely. "I already told you there would be no demonstrations in this terminal."
"But, Lieutenant, I assure you this is not a demonstration." Freemantle still held the microphone, so that his words carried clearly. "All that's happened is that I granted a television interview after a meeting with the airport management---I might say a highly unsatisfactory meeting---then reported to these people..."
"Report some place else!" Ordway swung around, facing others nearest him. "Now, let's break this up!"
There were hostile glances and angry mutterings among the crowd. As the policeman turned back to Elliott Freemantle, photographers' flash bulbs popped. TV floodlights, which had been turned off, went bright once more as television cameras focused on the two. At last, Elliott Freemantle thought, everything was going just the way he wanted.
On the fringe of the crowd, Mel Bakersfeld was talking with one of the TV men and Tomlinson of the
Tribune. The reporter was consulting his notes and reading a passage back. As he listened, Mel's face suffused with anger.
"Lieutenant," Elliott Freemantle was saying to Ned Ordway, "I have the greatest respect for you and for your uniform. Just the same, I'd like to point out that we did hold a meeting some place else tonight---at Meadowood---but because of noise from this airport, we couldn't hear ourselves."
Ordway snapped back, "I'm not here for a debate, Mr. Freemantle. If you don't do as I say, you'll be arrested. I'm ordering you to get this group out of here."
Someone in the crowd shouted, "Suppose we won't go?"
Another voice urged, "Let's stay here! They can't arrest all of us."
"No!" Elliott Freemantle held up a hand self-righteously. "Please listen to me! There will be no disorder; no disobedience. My friends and clients---this police officer has ordered us to desist and leave. We will comply with his order. We may consider it a grave restriction of free speech"... there were responsive cheers and booing... "but let it not be said that at any point we failed to respect the law." More crisply, he added, "I shall have a statement for the press outside."
"One moment!" Mel Bakersfeld's voice cut sharply across the heads of others. He thrust his way forward. "Freemantle, I'm interested to know what will be in that press statement of yours. Will it be more misrepresentation. Another dose of distorted law reports to delude people who don't know any better? Or just plain, old-fashioned fabrication which you're so expert at?"
Mel spoke loudly, his words carrying to those nearby. There was a buzz of interested reaction. People who had begun drifting away, stopped.
Elliott Freemantle reacted automatically. "That's a malicious, libelous statement!" An instant later, scenting danger, he shrugged. "However, I shall let it pass."
"Why? If it is libelous, you should know how to handle it." Mel faced the lawyer squarely. "Or perhaps you're afraid of it proving true."
"I'm afraid of nothing, Mr. Bakersfeld. The fact is, we've been told by this policeman that the party's over. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"I said it was over for you," Ned Ordway pointed out. "What Mr. Bakersfeld does is something again. He has authority here." Ordway had moved beside Mel; together they blocked the lawyer's way.
"If you were a real policeman," Freemantle objected, "you'd treat us both equally."
Mel said unexpectedly, "I think he's right." Ordway glanced at him curiously. "You should treat us both equally. And instead of closing this meeting, I think you should allow me the same privilege of talking to these people which Mr. Freemantle just had. That is, if you want to be a real policeman."
"I guess I want to be." The big Negro police lieutenant, towering above the other two, was grinning. "I'm beginning to see it your way---and Mr. Freemantle's."
Mel observed blandly to Elliott Freernantle, "You see, he's come around. Now, since we're all here, we may as well clear up a few things." He held out his hand. "Let me have that microphone."
Mel's anger of a minute or two ago was now less apparent. When the Tribune reporter, Tomlinson, had read back from his notes the gist of what Elliott Freemantle stated in his TV interviews and later, Met reacted heatedly. Both Tomlinson and the TV producer asked Mel to comment on what had been said. He assured them that he would.
"Oh no!" Freernantle shook his head decisively. The danger which he scented a few moments earlier was suddenly close and real. Once before, tonight, he had underestimated this man Bakersfeld; he had no intention of repeating that mistake. Freemantle himself now had the assembled Meadowood residents firmly under control; it was essential to his purpose that they remain that way. All he wanted at this moment was for everyone to disperse quickly.
He declared loftily, "More than enough has been said." Ignoring Mel, he passed the microphone to one of the Meadowood men and indicated the p.a. equipment. "Let's get all this apart and be on our way."
"I'll take that." Ned Ordway reached over and intercepted the microphone. "And leave the rest where it is." He nodded to several other policemen who had appeared on the fringes of the crowd. They moved in. While Freemantle watched helplessly, Ordway handed the microphone to Mel.
"Thank you." Mel faced the crowd of Meadowooders---many of their faces hostile---and others who, passing through the terminal, had stopped to listen. Though it was twenty minutes after midnight, and now Saturday morning, the heavy traffic in the main concourse showed no sign of lessening. Because of many delayed flights, pressures would probably continue through the remainder of the night, merging with a heightened weekend activity until schedules got back to normal. If one of the Meadowood objectives was to create a nuisance effect, Mel thought, it was succeeding. The extra thousand or so people were taxing available space in the concourse, arriving and departing passengers having to fight their way around like a flood tide encountering a sudden sandbank. Obviously the situation must not continue for more than a few minutes.
"I'll be brief," Mel said. He spoke into the microphone, telling them who and what he was.
"Earlier tonight I met a delegation representing all of you. I explained some of the airport's problems; also that we understood and sympathized with yours. I expected what I said to be passed along, if not exactly, then at least in substance. Instead, I find that I have been misrepresented and you have been deceived."
Elliott Freemantle emitted a roar of rage. "That's a lie!" His face was flushed. For the first time tonight his impeccably styled hair was disarrayed.
Lieutenant Ordway grasped the lawyer firmly by the arm. "Hush up, now! You had your turn."