Flying Too Close to the Sun George Jehn (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

did an excellent job no matter how young he might look and even said so with the cameras rolling,” Christina replied, uncomfortable with where this discussion might be headed. “Let me ask you a question. Why are you looking for a scapegoat? Can’t you accept maybe it was an unavoidable accident that fortunately didn’t turn into a disaster?”

“I believe there had to be some warning sign.”

“In this case you’re wrong.”

An unyielding O’Brien just sighed into the phone. “Someone was responsible, perhaps Preis.”

Before ending the conversation Christina seized an opportunity. “Since you claim I did such a great job how about giving me today off, with pay?”

“You mean this afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Let me put you on hold and see if we have another captain available.” The line went silent and O’Brien came back on a moment later. “We have coverage, so take the day off with full pay as a reward from the company.”

“Oh, thank you,” came her high-pitched, sarcastic reply.

After hanging up, Christina shook her head. Per the norm O’Brien was attempting to assess blame and was on a military-like search and destroy mission, looking for a scapegoat rather than correcting a problem like poor engine maintenance or Woody’s lousy performance. For as long as she could recall this was his management technique, with fear and intimidation his modus operandi. She hoped he would drop his witch-hunt against Preis but doubted it.

Her thoughts turned to her epilepsy and she went to the medicine chest in the small, grimy bathroom with the standup shower stall and plastic shower curtain reeking of mildew, and removed a bottle of Gigotor tablets. Although the doctor said the medication might stop her seizures, he wasn’t definite. Last night showed her it wouldn’t, but she nonetheless took two tablets from the three-month supply the doctor had provided and would do so twice per day. Hopefully, it would work the next time?

She had asked the doctor if her epilepsy could be genetic. He explained it might be which caused her great consternation. From his studies he believed the disease is at least partially genetic, with female offspring being more predisposed to contracting it. He also emphasized the symptoms could also be brought on by stress and asked if she worked in a stressful environment, but she informed him she was a housewife. Although he mentioned some promising new drugs, she held out little hope. Once again she felt as though she had suddenly crash-landed and couldn’t extricate herself from the wreckage her life had become, overnight.

CHAPTER FIVE

When Erik arrived home his parents were asleep, but the blinking message light on the home telephone got his attention. It contained a terse message from Captain Michael O’Brien summoning him to a meeting prior to his next day’s flight. Maybe O’Brien wanted to thank him for his performance in Boston, but after considering his blunder he became concerned. Had Shepard or Montgomery mentioned it?

A tense Erik climbed the flight of steps to O’Brien’s office a full hour before his normal 2 PM check-in time and found the chief pilot rigidly seated behind his large polished desk, waiting. Rumor had it the only time he stood was if the Shuttle Air President entered. The long desk looked like a dark mahogany aircraft carrier with more than a hint of power, underscored by the Bachelor of Science degree from the US Naval Academy hanging on the wall directly behind it. O’Brien waved him to enter while the heavyset man kept attempting to fasten the top button of his shirt, which looked like a size sixteen on an eighteen-inch neck. As the starched collar bit into his neck he finally admitted defeat and left his tie, which appeared to need a large dose of Viagra, hanging at half-mast. He motioned Erik to be seated in a dark green, faux leather chair across from him. Skipping any formalities, O’Brien asked in a raspy voice, “Prior to last night’s engine problem did you see anything that didn’t look right during your preflight inspection?”

“No sir,” Erik immediately replied. “Everything appeared normal. There was no oil or other fluids on the engine cowling or the ground.”

“Were you thorough enough?” O’Brien asked, raising one eyebrow above eyes as cold as the blue of ice. Without waiting for a reply he continued. “Management doesn’t look lightly on what happened because in addition the high cost engine repair, the FAA will now scrutinize our maintenance procedures with a fine toothcomb. This translates into higher expenditures of scarce dollars.” Erik opened his mouth to protest but O’Brien held up his hand. “Most pilots fly out lengthy careers without having a close call like last night. If it weren’t for Captain Shepard a whole planeload of people might’ve been killed,” immediately adding, “I’ll be following your actions closely and you’ll be held accountable for any future incidents.”

Following a long moment of uncomfortable silence and a stare-down, O’Brien asked about Montgomery’s performance. Erik was troubled answering anything about Woody because although just starting out, he knew the code of the airline pilot brotherhood demanded he keep his mouth shut. Any damaging statements would mark him forever as a lackey or a turncoat who would do or say anything to endear himself with management. Shuttle Air was a small airline and when the word filtered out, Erik suspected his would be a very long and lonely career. Plus, what happened was really between Woody and Christina. He stated in a calm voice everything had gone as well as could be expected under the circumstances, with the proof in the final outcome. Erik was secretly pleased when O’Brien’s face became beet red. The chief pilot growled something indecipherable under his breath, which Erik correctly took as his cue to leave. This was hopefully the last time he would ever hear anything from Captain O’Brien.

CHAPTER SIX

Christina attempted to get her mind off her medical problem by immersing herself in paying bills, which only created more stress because of the small amount in