Chapter Eighteen

 

Jordan and Gail walked down a long narrow hallway lined with pictures of aircraft that Consolidated operated both currently and in the past. This hallway opened up into a large square-shaped room lined with vending machines along the perimeter walls, and several simple tables and chairs in the center of the room.

“This is where the pilots and Check Airmen get a bite to eat during their break in their simulator sessions,” Gail said.

Jordan looked at the rather limited and unappetizing fare afforded by the machines. He also noticed that all eyes of the pilots in the room were surreptitiously watching every move Gail made.

“How long are these sessions?” Jordan asked.

“They brief for about an hour and a half, fly the box for two hours, break for fifteen, fly for two more, and then debrief for fifteen to forty-five minutes depending on the type of training they are doing.”

“Fly the box?”

“Sorry. I mean spend two hours accomplishing required maneuvers in the simulator.”

“What’s the difference between a brief and debrief?”

“A briefing is the time the Check Airmen and the pilots spend discussing required topics before they fly the box, and the debriefing is the time they spend afterwards reviewing the pilots’ performance in the box.”

“Why do you keep referring to the simulator as ‘the box’?”

“I think the easiest way to describe that would be to show you,” Gail replied. “Let’s take a look behind this door.” She put her hand on Jordan’s shoulder and escorted him toward one of the doors that led to a simulator bay.

There was something exhilarating about having Gail’s hand on his neck, and her arm draped across her shoulders. He could smell her perfume. It had a soft, floral fragrance to it.

As she opened the door, they stepped onto a landing that was ten feet above the floor of the room, and approximately twenty feet below the ceiling. They were literally standing on the side of a wall in a room that could probably have housed a small blimp. Lurching around in front of them, much like the mechanical bulls he had seen in movies about cowboy honky-tonk bars, were three boxlike structures the size of small school buses.

“These are the boxes—simulators.”

“Why are they moving in all different directions like that?”

“That’s caused by the motion software. The pilots are inside the box manipulating the controls. For every command they give the aircraft, a motion is generated to give the pilot the sensation he would encounter in a real aircraft.”

Gail was standing between Jordan and the simulator, with her back to him. “You should feel the sensation you are generating for me,” he mentally paraphrased Gail’s last statement. He was admiring the beautiful profile of her face and the way it blended into her delicate neck as she continued her discussion.

“For example, you’ll notice the box on the right there is tilting steeply forward right now. The pilot has probably just completed a landing and is decelerating on the runway. The forward tilt of the simulator gives the pilot a sense of sliding forward in his seat, much like the decelerating effect of an airplane. Likewise, the simulator will tilt upwards to push the pilot back in his seat as if he were accelerating during a takeoff. There is also a visual scene projected in front of each pilot’s windshield to complement the effect on the pilot’s senses that he is flying a real aircraft.”

Although fascinated by the concepts of simulator motion technology, Jordan wanted to broach the subject of captain Don Jakyll’s training. “Does this motion activity of the simulator have any effect on human factor training?”

Gail turned and stared cautiously into his eyes. Rather than answer his question, she suggested, “Why don’t we step back into my office. It’s quieter there.”

They turned and reentered the small room with the vending machines, walked down a hallway, and entered Gail’s office. The room was small and windowless. The walls were lined with bookcases stuffed with what appeared to be technical manuals of some sort. Above the bookcases, pictures of numerous aircraft were attached to the walls. Models of aircraft and other flying related paraphernalia rested on top of the cases as well.

Jordan could not help but scan the room for personal pictures that might reveal the presence of her husband or boyfriend. He was pleased to see there were none. The size of the room scarcely provided enough space for Gail’s desk and chair, as well as two chairs on the side of the desk opposite hers.

“Have a seat,” she motioned to Jordan. Her breasts and stomach brushed lightly against his back as she moved past him in the cramped space and took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

“Damn!” He thought, reacting to the sensation this brief body contact.

“Slick . . . I mean Willie asked me to review the training history of Captain Jakyll,” she began. “If you like, I’ll give you a brief summary of the training he received here, and then be glad to answer any questions you might have.”

“Works for me.”

“A little over seven months ago, Captain Jakyll received transition training on the Boeing 737. This training curriculum is designed for a pilot who has been flying as a captain on another aircraft type at Consolidated Airlines, but has never flown the 737 before. The pilot’s training begins with ten days of ground school that covers the basic systems of the aircraft, as well as fundamental maneuvers.”

“Basic systems?”

“Yes,” Gail continued. “For example, the pilot will be instructed in the basic components and functions of the landing gear, the brakes, the flight controls, the electrical and hydraulic systems, and the navigation systems. Each of these systems is taught to a level of understanding so that the pilot knows how to operate the system normally and, if need be, during several non-normal situations.”

“What would a non-normal situation entail?”

Gail smiled in reaction to Jordan’s limited knowledge of the pilot’s training regimen. He loved her smile. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as the corners of her mouth turned up.

“Let’s say, for example, the pilot is approaching an airport for landing, and extends the landing gear. If one of the gear assemblies does not extend, that would be a non-normal situation,” Gail said. “The pilot’s training would include the use of policies and procedures designed to cause the landing gear to extend. Another example of a non-normal would be an engine failure. Although very rare with today’s highly reliable jet engines, if an engine should fail at the worst possible time during takeoff, the pilot receives some training in ground school related to the failure of the engine. Most of the training for engine failures is done in the simulator, however. Since an engine failure can cause significant aircraft control problems, the pilot needs to experience the motion capabilities of the box to become proficient in handling this type of non-normal situation. After ten days of ground school, the pilot is given an oral examination to determine his knowledge and understanding of the material presented in the classroom. If he passes this examination, he is then scheduled for ten days of simulator training.”

“Why an oral examination?” Jordan asked. “Why not a written test?” Jordan realized that he was now asking questions as much out of desire to hear the sound of Gail’s voice as to the insight he might gain from her answers.

“Because it’s impossible to cheat and very difficult to guess at answers when you’re one-on-one with an examiner. We want to make sure our pilots have a thorough understanding of all the information. It’s also an FAA requirement,” she volunteered.

“So the FAA has to approve your training programs.”

“Yep.”

“Do all the training programs at each airline have to be the same in order to be approved?”

“Not at all,” Gail replied.

“Could you elaborate on the differences?”

“I’d be glad to. The differences really begin to show up when the pilot begins his simulator training. Under our system, we give the pilot eight simulator sessions, and then a check ride. If the pilot passes the check ride, he is issued a type rating for the aircraft. This is essentially a license to carry passengers on this specific type of aircraft. Even though he has a license, his training is not complete. He must then fly the aircraft under the supervision of a check airman for four to five days under actual line flying conditions on routes the company normally flies.”

“That’s gotta be expensive.” Jordan envisioned the pilot and his instructor flying an empty airplane around the country for all that time.

“Not at all,” Gail responded. “We accomplish this on regularly scheduled flights with passengers on board.”

“So the first time Don Jakyll ever landed a 737 was with a plane full of passengers?” Jordan was incredulous.

“Yep! But keep in mind he was flying with a Check Airman.”

“That must be interesting work . . . being a Check Airman.”

“Well, it’s not for everyone. We’re pretty selective about whom we authorize to do that type of work.”

“So how does our flight training program differ from other airlines?”

Gail yawned. Before covering her mouth, he noticed even her teeth were flawless. Her yawn was accompanied by an outstretching of her arms with both wrists flexed upwards. Her blouse was pulled tight against her torso, accentuating her flat stomach and firm breasts. Her arms quivered slightly at the end of her stretch. She grinned and giggled apologetically as she recovered from the convulsive effect of the yawn.

“Sorry. I reported for a 4:30 sim session this morning. The short night is catching up with me.”

Jordan felt that her giggle was almost sultry in nature. Not childish or silly, but rather seductive.

“Now where were we? You were asking how our training differs from other airlines. Quite a lot, actually. For example,” Gail began but then stopped. She appeared to be considering her next words carefully. “You were in Willie’s office when he called regarding your visit here today.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Do you mind if I ask why your conference with him led to a call to me?”

“As he said, I’m conducting an in-house investigation as to the cause of the crash of flight 243, and I’m wandering if there might be any connection between the training Don Jakyll received and the cause of the crash.”

Gail’s facial expression changed to one of stern sincerity as she leaned forward in her chair, looked Jordan straight in the eye, and stated, “You bet your ass there is!”

Jordan and Gail stared at each other momentarily in total silence, each of them not believing what she had just said. Gail sat back in her chair, looked up at the ceiling and exhaled as if she was somehow relieved by her comment. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so blunt with my answer.”

“Not at all,” Jordan assured her. “I appreciate your candor.”

Once again there was silence in the room as each of them was struggling with finding a way to determine if the other was part of G and Willie’s scheme to blame the cause of the crash on Don Jakyll, or could they confide in each other their sincere desire to expose G and Willie for the fraud they really were.

Jordan became uncomfortable with their extended eye contact, and looked away. He noticed a red inventory tag attached to her computer. It was identical to the tags on the furnishings in his office.

“Have you had this computer long?”

“It, like everything else in this building, from the furniture to the simulators, is leased,” she informed Jordan. “Hell, the instructors we use to train our pilots don’t even fly for Consolidated. They’re contract employees!”

“But you’re a Consolidated pilot.”

“Yes, and I’ve only been here a little over a year, and I’m the Manager of Flight Training! Doesn’t that strike you as a little bit odd?”

Jordan could sense that Gail wanted to tell him much more about the inner workings of Consolidated Airlines flight training department. He knew that her relationship with G had been the reason for her promotion, but he didn’t want to discuss that. “Are you implying that perhaps you are not qualified to hold your present position?”

“Oh, I’m qualified all right,” she said confidently. “Perhaps over-qualified.”

Gail stopped talking and began to stare at the ceiling in disgust.

Jordan decided it was time to lay all his cards on the table. “Gail, I had a very close friend and his daughter on flight 243. They are in a hospital in critical condition and may not survive. Wilbur Rutledge, our former president, was like a father to me and he is now dead. I have reason to believe his death was not an accident. I also believe G and Willie may have contributed to the cause of the crash of flight 243. Now if there is anything you can tell me about our flight training that might help me to prove this, I would be very appreciative.” Jordan paused. “Now what did you mean by your being overqualified?”

“I had a friend on that airplane as well,” Gail confided. “The first officer was a former student of mine.”

“Former student? Where?”

“Mid Texas State University. I ran the flight training program there. One of my duties was to give check rides to student pilots. Kley Hetherington was enrolled in the professional pilot course. Great kid! Cute, funny, and a natural pilot.”

“How did both of you end up here?”

“I’d gone as far as I could go at the flight training level of this business. I wanted more. I wanted to be a captain at a real airline. I applied here and was accepted about two years ago. I was so thrilled to get the job, I didn’t mind the antiquated methods they employed to train pilots here.”

“Antiquated methods? You said earlier that there was a difference between our training program and other airlines—I believe you said ‘quite a lot’—when our pilots get to the simulator training phase of their training.”

“That’s correct. It was obvious to me as a new-hire pilot that this company was basically using the same methods to train pilots that have been in place, and FAA approved I might add, for over fifty years!”

“If these methods have been around for that long, they must have passed the test of time.” Jordan played devil’s advocate.

“That’s the problem. Even though there’s a wealth of studies to indicate that this type of training is much less effective in preventing accidents than newer training technologies, no one has ever been able to prove that this type of training causes accidents either. Until that happens, and I doubt it ever will, airline managers will always have the option to use this type of program,” Gail commented in frustration.

“So what makes these newer methods so much more effective?”

The emphasis on human factor training,” Gail said confidently. “Hell, we only flew small Cessna’s at Mid Texas State, but our entire program, from day one of ground school with a kid who’d never been in an airplane, all the way through the granting of his Airline Transport Rating, was filled with human factor training issues.”

“So if you could modify the training program at Consolidated, what would you do?”

“First, I’d revamp the entire ground school syllabus. Instead of spending so much time teaching how the ‘nuts and bolts’ of the airplane are put together, each day’s training would focus primarily on the safest way for a crew to operate the aircraft’s systems in both normal and non-normal situations.” Gail then elaborated. “For example, let’s take the landing gear malfunction we talked about earlier. It’s really not important how much hydraulic pressure is in the lines that operate the system, or how the pumps work that create that pressure. What is important is for the crew to safely operate the aircraft when the malfunction occurs.”

“Could you give me an example of what a crew should do to safely operate the aircraft in this situation?”

“First, they should decide who will fly the aircraft. There was an incident several years ago where a crew got so involved with burned out light bulb in a landing gear indicator, that they flew a perfectly good airplane into the swamps west of Miami.”

“Do you think Captain Jakyll flew a perfectly good airplane off the end of the runway in Charlotte?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. But getting back to your question about a crew with a landing gear malfunction, once it is clear who is flying the aircraft, the next issue is to identify the problem. It is not uncommon for a crew to identify the wrong problem, and therefore apply the incorrect procedure. This would make the situation worse . . .”

Jordan was only hearing perhaps half of what Gail was saying. He was totally mesmerized by her. Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but brilliant as well. “Could God have created a more perfect creature?” he wondered.

Gail continued. “We spend way too much time teaching our crews to accomplish normal tasks and maneuvers in the simulator, and very little time teaching them to safely fly the aircraft during real world situations that increase the potential for an accident to occur. Most accidents are not caused by aircraft malfunctions, but by crew malfunctions.”

The reference to crew malfunctions refocused Jordan’s attention to the purpose of his meeting with Gail. “About seventy percent of all accidents, I believe,” Jordan said. “So would it be safe to say that if over seventy percent of all accidents are caused by crew malfunctions, a training program that does not focus on this methodology would be deficient in its content? Perhaps even to the point of causing the operator of that training program to be considered negligent or liable in the case of an accident for excluding human factor training from the curriculum?”

“It would be safe to say, but as of yet no one has been able to prove liability in either a criminal or civil action,” Gail said. “Where did you get that ‘seventy percent’ information?”

“I read it in an article. It was by a guy named Konstantine Kawalski. Ever heard of him?”

“Sure. Konnie Kawalski, or Dr. K as I call him. I’ve heard him speak at various training seminars I attended as a representative of the university. He’s brilliant, but also very practical in his approach to these training methods.”

“Do you think he’d be of any help to me in my investigation?”

“Help to us, Jordan.” Gail leaned forward and momentarily grasped his hand. “I want to help in this too. I think Dr. K would love to talk to you. Tell him I’ve got some video of Captain Jakyll’s last training session I’d like to show him. I’d really like to work on this with you.” She stared into Jordan’s eyes in a way that no woman had for many years.

Jordan could not help but notice her hand was soft, with very long fingers . . . beautiful, long fingers. He stared at the perfectly manicured nails, coated with a glossy clear polish and tipped with a thin white accent on the underside. Her legs were crossed, causing her right foot to be exposed on the side of her desk. He glanced at the acutely pointed toe of her shoe and wondered if her toes were as well kempt. “Refocus Jordan. Get it together,” he mentally scolded himself. He released her hand, which she withdrew slowly.

“Why did you tape captain Jakyll’s training session?” He forced himself to continue the conversation.

“In our training program, we bring our captains in twice a year for recurrent training,” Gail said. “The first time they come back after they get their type rating, they receive Line Oriented Flight Training, or LOFT. The simulator portion of this training encompasses a crew flying two legs on the line between three cities on our route system. We interject several internal and external problems into the training scenario to observe how the crew reacts to these situations. We videotape the session and show portions of the tape to the crew during the debrief to let the crew self-critique their performance. Studies have shown that self -critique leads to a much more effective learning experience.” Gail then confided in Jordan. “When Don Jakyll came back for his first LOFT, it was obvious to the Check Airman administering his simulator session that he had some rather serious emotional problems when he was placed under high stress flight conditions. He was so concerned by what he observed that he brought the tape to me.”

“If he had these problems, why was he allowed to continue to fly?”

“Because LOFT is administered strictly as training,” Gail answered in frustration. “That’s the big problem with our antiquated methods. We should administer these sessions as evaluations. It’s much easier to remove a pilot from line flying if he fails a Line Operational Evaluation, or an LOE.”

“Why don’t we administer LOE’s then?”

“Because that would require us to implement a totally different training and evaluation curriculum, and in order to do that we would have to get FAA approval. It would be very time consuming and expensive. The guys at the top that run this airline could care less about improving our curriculum. They think as long as the FAA will approve it, let’s do it as cheaply as possible.”

“When do our guys get evaluations that would permit a problem pilot to be removed from line flying?”

“We call them Proficiency Checks—PCs. Remember I told you the captains come back six months after they get their type rating for LOFT. Well, six months after that they come back for a PC. We have a laundry list of maneuvers they must complete to pass this ‘check ride.’ It really has very little to do with their ability to fly the line safely. The system is basically set up backwards from what it should be. We evaluate them on things they rarely do, and train them on things they do all the time,” Gail lamented. She took a deep breath to calm herself from the frustration that was building as she explained the incredible tolerance for mediocrity that existed in flight training programs at Consolidated Airlines.

“The tape of Captain Jakyll. What did you do with that?”

“I went so far as to take the video to Willie, and let him see for himself what Jakyll could be like if subjected to enough stress in the cockpit. His answer was to destroy the tape. As long as he successfully flew the LOFT scenario to completion, he wasn’t interested in any personality issues. He felt they had always been a part of airline crew culture, and they always will be.”

“But you didn’t destroy the tape.”

“Nope. I had a feeling something would happen with Jakyll, and my conscience wouldn’t let me destroy something I hoped might someday be helpful in getting things changed around here.”

“Surely we must do some sort of human factor training or evaluation?” Jordan asked, incredulous.

“Oh, we do something all right,” Gail said. “We put some fancy posters up in the briefing rooms, and show a video to all the pilots when they come in once a year for recurrent ground school. The video is the last thing they see before the class is over. At the completion of the movie, the instructor asks if there are any questions. Everybody in the room knows they get to go home when the discussion is over, so nobody dares to say a word. It’s strictly eyewash for the FAA. We can point to the posters and video and claim we train human factors.”

As much as he hated ending his conversation with Gail, Jordan felt he had gotten more than enough information for one day. He was anxious to talk to Dr. Kawalski and get his reactions to Gail’s comments. If he was to prove that Don’s Jakyll’s flight training was a contributing cause to the accident, he knew he would need more expert opinions.

Once again he heard Wilbur Rutledge set his course: “You look at every angle of why this occurred and keep me informed. We owe these poor folks and their families the truth.”

Jordan was sure Gail had provided him with several new angles as to the cause of the crash. With Wilbur’s image in his mind, Jordan stood up to signal that their meeting was over. “I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been today.” As he stood to leave, he extended his hand in an effort to conclude their meeting with the formality of a businesslike handshake.

Instead of taking his outstretched hand, Gail stood, walked past Jordan, opened her office door, and then took his hand and led him out of her office. “Come on. I’ll see you to the front door. Wouldn’t want you getting lost.” She grinned that perfect smile again.

As they passed the guard at the front door, Gail released her grasp on Jordan’s hand and retrieved a business card from her pocket. She wrote something down on the back of it and pressed it into Jordan’s now-empty hand. “Call me as soon as you talk to Dr. K, or sooner if you just want to talk,” Gail instructed him. “That’s my private cell phone number on the back of the card.”

Jordan thanked her and walked out the door. As he began the long trek back to his “Visitors” parking space, he looked at the card. The ink on the back was somewhat blurred. Jordan looked at the hand that Gail had held as she led him out of the training center, and realized it was covered with sweat. That hadn’t happened to him since his first date with Shelby. All of a sudden he remembered the call from her brother announcing Shelby’s desire for a divorce. For some reason this didn’t seem to bother him after his meeting with Gail.