Chapter Eight

 

They climbed single file up the steeply pitched stairs. Dirk felt like he was coming up through a hole in the bottom of an enormous fishbowl. The panoramic view of the airport and surrounding North Carolina countryside was spectacular. Lining the interior perimeter of the cab was an array of radar screens, computer keyboards, radios, and microphones. It took Dirk’s eyes a while to adjust to the bright sunlight. As they did, he observed several men and women pacing the circular floor who appeared to be talking to themselves. Each of them was wearing a boom microphone and grasping a transmitter button which they intermittently depressed with their thumb, in much the same manner as the controllers in the TRACON room below.

Gary Lee put his hand on Dirk’s shoulder and tugged him toward one of the controllers. “This pathetic excuse for a human being is controlling all of the ground traffic movement on the east side of the airport.”

Without interrupting his choreographing of the movement of several aircraft on the congested ramp around the terminal, the man turned, grinned at Dirk, raised the hand with which he was intermittently depressing the transmitter button, and made an obscene gesture to Gary Lee. He then turned his gaze back to the airliners on the surface below.

“See Dirk, just one big family,” Gary Lee beamed.

He continued to lead Dirk around the cab, explaining various pieces of equipment and their functions. As they reached the section of the control tower facing the crash, Dirk could clearly see the wreckage of Consolidated 243. Gary Lee handed him a pair of binoculars.

“Try these,” he suggested. “You should be able to see all you want to, and then some.”

Dirk adjusted the lenses until the smoldering aircraft was clearly visible. The magnifying effect of the binoculars was startling.

“Wow,” Dirk exclaimed. “These things are powerful.”

“We only use them as a backup for identifying aircraft visually if the radar fails, but we want to be able to see as far out as possible.”

Dirk began to scan the crash scene. He focused initially on the aircraft’s severely disfigured nose. He doubted that the pilots could have survived, based on the extent of the damage to this part of the aircraft. It appeared that the nose had encountered a massive frontal impact which caused the fuselage to rupture.

Through the gaping hole, Dirk could see the devastated interior. He was amazed at the contrast between different sections of the passenger compartment. One section had rows of seats torn from the floor and horribly disfigured by fire damage, while another section seemed totally unaffected.

He had often wondered where the safest place to sit in an airplane would be in the event of a crash. Judging from the row of missing seats over the wing section, that was not the most desirable.

“Not a pretty sight,” Gary Lee said.

“It’s sickening.” Dirk was disgusted. “How could this happen?”

“It’ll take a while for the investigators to answer that question.”

“There’s got to be more to this than just a mistake on the part of the pilot,” he thought as he surveyed the crash site.