‘What do you mean, they’re jamming us?’ Harker demanded, edging closer to the cockpit as a patch of turbulence hit the jet and forced him to grab hold of the pilot’s seat.
‘I mean everything’s down: no radio, no tower, nothing,’ the pilot explained, tapping at his mic button. ‘I can’t even get the worldwide emergency station.’
‘Who would do that?’
‘Someone who doesn’t want visitors.’
Communication had gone down within eleven kilometres of the island, and the closer they got, the worse the static had become. With no idea where or if there even was a runway, the pilot was beginning to experience serious doubts.
‘I can’t see a landing strip, Mr Harker, and there is no way I am putting her down on a strip of grass. She’s just not designed for it.’
Dawn had broken twenty minutes earlier but, with no map references, they were flying by visual sight only, meaning all they could do was wait to get close enough and take a good look at the area. Now within only kilometres of their destination, both Harker and the pilot were scanning the approaching landmass intently.
The island itself was small, maybe six kilometres by three, with high craggy cliffs surrounding its shoreline and thick green forest covering its entire surface between. Towards the far side, the terrain rose upwards to form a small mountain peak blocking any view of the other side, and it was this region that caught Harker’s attention immediately.
‘If there is a runway, it has to be on the other side of that mountain.’ He pointed to the rocky outcrop. ‘Can you bring us around?’
The pilot said nothing but with a nod began to turn towards it, then he made a sudden correction and pulled the jet back to a straight and level position. ‘There,’ he said, pointing down to the nearest edge of the island. ‘It’s a landing strip.’
Nestling amongst the trees was a modest tarmac runway with two hangars at one end of it, cut into the forest floor and difficult to see because of the surrounding high trees.
‘Can you get us down there?’ Harker asked, assessing its length.
‘Should do,’ the man replied, and he was adjusting their trajectory towards the quickly approaching shelf of land just as a voice crackled from the radio.
‘Golf Charlie India Tango India, this is ground control. You have entered private airspace, please change your heading. Over.’
The pilot glanced over at Harker, who was now shaking his head fervently, and with barely a pause he cleared his throat and pressed down on the mic button. ‘Negative, ground. We are experiencing engine failure and therefore request clearance for an emergency landing. Over.’
He eased back on the throttle and now lined up towards the runway as the aircraft began to descend. They were landing whether the go-ahead was given or not, but it wasn’t until the jet’s undercarriage was fully down that a reply came back.
‘Understood, India. We have no emergency services here but you will be met upon landing. Please remain in the cabin until further notice. Over.’
The pilot shot Harker a grin and then tapped on his mic button again. ‘Roger, understood. Over and out.’
‘No one ever turns away a request for an emergency landing,’ the pilot explained, as he began to lower the Cessna onto the tarmac. ‘Although how they behave when they greet us is another matter altogether.’
Harker dropped into the co-pilot’s seat just as the tyres hit the ground, and with a light bump the jet began to slow when its brakes were applied. He was already scouring the hangars at the far end for any signs of life. As the Cessna’s reverse thrusters kicked in and they came to a full stop just a hundred metres from those two buildings, he was already out of his seat.
‘They’ll be here soon, so I have to get going. Will you be all right?’
The pilot gave a confident nod, then took off his headphones and undid his seat belt. ‘The flight plan I filed indicates no passengers, in case they have access to it, and I’ll play for as much time as possible. But when they realize there’s nothing wrong with the engines, I could be sent on my way immediately.’
‘I understand,’ Harker replied, already making his way to the exit hatch. ‘I’m heading for the other side of the mountain – it can’t be more than a kilometre or so – but if meanwhile you have to go, then just go. I’ll figure something out and…’
Harker unlocked the metal-handled door hatch and then paused to look back at the pilot, who was still staring in his direction. ‘I never asked your name?’
‘It’s Frank,’ the pilot replied, ‘and in my position I never enquire why I’m being asked to fly to any location. I’m just the pilot, but I have to ask you, Mr Harker, what the hell are we doing here?’
Harker clicked the hatch and let the door fall slowly open before he checked outside for any approaching vehicles – of which there were none so far. ‘It’s Alex,’ he replied, ‘and that’s exactly what I am hoping to find out.’