Flight Risk

By Greg Tuck

A private jet crashes into the hillside above Cairns. Bodies are retrieved and the plane contents are examined. All is not as it should be and Detective Chief Inspector “Sarge” Downs and Detective Sergeant Nat Johns of Cairns CID are called in to investigate. There are a whole lot of anomalies and this pair call in support from others including the AFP, ASIO and the defence force. Piece by piece the puzzle is put together, but not before Nat's and Sarge's families are targeted. Investigations lead them, not only through outback Queensland and the Northern Territory, but also to Spain and Morocco. This case proves to be one of the most complex, mysterious and dangerous ones that they have encountered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Tuck
• Release date: May 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463263600

Greg Tuck

I am a former primary teacher and principal, landscape designer and gardener and now a full time author living in Gippsland in the state of Victoria in Australia. Although I write mainly fictional novels, I regularly contribute to political blogs and have letters regularly published in local and Victorian newspapers. I write parodies of songs and am in the process of writing music for the large number of poems that I have written.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The sound roared in from the ocean and took everyone by surprise. The airport was well away from the town centre and the planes usually approached from the north or south. This was coming due east and the plane was low, too low. There was no sign that it had descended at all. There was no slowing down either. The roar bounced off the waters and seemed to gain volume the closer it got.

Detective Chief Inspector Sarge Downs was out for his midday run along the Esplanade on the waters’ edge of Cairns. It was a habit he had picked up to break the monotony of the dull routine that he found when he first started at the old Cairns police station all those years ago. His tall, now somewhat thickset frame, he still believed, cut a trim figure and he was confident he was able to match the times he once used to do. He may have been able to attract looks from those at the bowls and croquet club, but the young women in bikinis who hung around the pools near the Pier barely gave him a glance. However, they did look up in alarm as the low flying Lear jet came into sight.

Cairns is spread out along the far north coast of Queensland on a relatively flat plain surrounded by steep hills and mountains. It is not large by major city standards in Australia, but today, that was a good thing. There were no skyscrapers in danger of stopping a plane in full flight. It didn’t slow down, it didn’t change course or height. The only things that changed were the increasing noise the closer it got to shore and the increasing inevitability of what would take place. People rushed from shops. Many residents stood on verandas drawn to the sight and sound and the horror that was about to happen. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for those that witnessed it, it must have looked like it was all in slow motion. If the noise of the jet roaring on its final flight path was loud, the explosion as it hit the steep slopes above Cairns was eardrum shattering. Those living in Redlynch had a close up look at the explosion above them. Their roads were soon suddenly clogged with emergency vehicles, sirens wailing and then came private cars filled with people wanting to see first-hand the gory outcome.

Sarge saw the plane, saw the inevitable and instead of watching the fireball turned his head to the sea. There was nothing out there for thousands of kilometres. Already his mind was trying to calculate the direction and most likely place the plane had come from. Vanuatu and its islands were out there somewhere. Of the people on board, he wasn’t concerned. They were already dead. No-one would survive the impact. He knew that even before the plane hit the hillside. The human body is not built that way. He thought that ambulances would not be needed. Fire engines would definitely be and uniformed police would need to set up a barrier to keep the public at bay. As the senior member of the CID in the city, he would be called in, but the main work would be for the coroner and CASA, the Civil Aviation Safety Authority. It was a shame that any occupants were dead, but hardly a criminal matter. These things were rare occurrences, but sometimes shit happens, he thought.

The only thing that didn’t make sense was why there was no evasive action. The only answer he surmised was that the pilot was incapacitated and probably had been for a while. The only suitable landing place on the coastline for such a jet was the Cairns International Airport. No planes flew that low or on the route the jet had taken if it wanted to land at Cairns. On a hunch he rang the control tower at the airport and after explaining just who he was to the excited and distraught supervisor there, he ordered copies of all flight logs, all communications between the tower and the jet and any details about the company that owned the jet, to be sent to his office, to the coroner’s office and to CASA. That would save someone some time. Sarge was a man who was meticulous about everything. He didn’t like things out of the ordinary and was dogged with investigations so that he could make sense of things. Right now, as he ruffled his thinning hair, and stared again out to sea again, he had a feeling that something was very much out of the ordinary.

The aftermath was all across the national and international news. In this day of camera phones and live streaming, the internet was flooded with shaky vision of the plane’s final seconds. Within hours news crews had landed and set up base at Cairns hotels, interviewing anyone they could find. Like a flock of vultures hovering over carrion, they began to pick to pieces the little that was known. A few tried to get closer than the cordoned off area allowed and were quickly given their marching orders. Such was the coordination of the emergency services; these same reporters and their media outlets were given the short shrift and lost all their press privileges. Nothing was said officially, but word went around fast and other news media benefited simply by following the rules. Private drones filming above the site were treated much the same way. CASA and the Cairns airport instituted a no-fly zone and drones were brought down, confiscated and pressure brought to bear even more on those flaunting the rules. Cairns was a small city, but tight knit, and news producers found it difficult to arrange accommodation, flights and even food if their reporters went too far. In Cairns it didn’t matter how big your company was, who you knew in Canberra and what pressure you thought you could bring to bear, the one thing that you couldn’t do was upset the locals.

Within two days, the circus had moved on and the actual investigation could begin beyond the prying eyes of the world. Sarge had been to the site as a formality, however late on the second day he was summoned by the CASA investigators. Something really was not quite kosher. He had suspected as much, but had hoped that it was merely a case of the pilot being ‘asleep at the wheel’. It turned out to be far, far different than that. Sarge rang his partner Sarah and told her that he wasn’t sure when he was going to be home. She wasn’t surprised. Such things were sadly part of her normal life since she had moved in with him all those years ago. She had picked up their eldest daughter, Katie from after-school care and Katie was busy nattering to their latest edition, Eloise who had spent time at the creche at James Cook University where Sarah lectured in marine science. Eloise hadn’t formed words properly yet, but that just left a lot of space for Katie to fill which she did with relish. Sarah felt blessed having her two daughters who seemed to get on so well together judging on the laughter that was at first emanating from Eloise’s baby capsule just behind the driver’s seat in the long wheel base ancient Landrover. Once Katie was able to elicit a giggle from Eloise, then it became infectious as Katie couldn’t control her own laughter. Sarah had to suppress her own as they drove. She wondered what Sarge was lumbered with now. He would tell her when he had time. It was the nature of his job that saw him often called away at the oddest of hours. She wondered whether Nat, Sarge’s underling and best friend would also be gainfully occupied for the evening. Sarah pushed the speed dial on the phone and spoke to Nat’s wife, Jess. Nat was indeed going to be busy. That meant a quick change of plans for Sarah and she tilted her head to the side and asked Katie if she would like to see Auntie Jess and the twins.

Yes, please Mum. Please hurry. It’s an emergency. Use the lights and sirens, Katie insisted.

Years before Sarge had installed lights and sirens on the Landrover after having been flagged down for speeding as he raced to a crime scene. Sarah knew where the switches were and thought, ‘Why not?’

Cars moved to the side and they raced through the five o’clock traffic for a most important meeting. Whenever Jess was left alone with her twins, her place looked like the aftermath of a cyclone. So, there was an emergency. Jess needed rescuing from two active three-year olds who were intent on finding what everything did regardless of risk to their own safety and their mother’s sanity. Jess had been the perfect mother when they were young and Sarah was so envious of how this attractive, highly intelligent woman was capable of doing everything with little or no fuss. The twins had been rechristened as nitro and glycerine just before their third birthday. It should have brought a smile of satisfaction to Sarah’s face; however, she was very concerned about how her own best friend was coping. Strangely enough it was Katie who was able to control the two boys the best.

There was a look of gratitude on Jess’s face when she opened the door. Katie rushed past and went straight to her boys. Jess took the small capsule into the lounge room while Sarah followed with a wrapped-up parcel of fish ’n’ chips, that she had picked up on the way. She couldn’t drink as she was breastfeeding Eloise, but knew that the bottle of white wine that she also had bought, wouldn’t go astray that evening. She noticed that Jess had visibly relaxed once company arrived and was pleased with her decision. If their partners were going to be stuck with an all-nighter then she might even stay the night. After all it was Friday evening and there was no school for Katie tomorrow, nor lectures for herself. She sent a quick text off to Sarge.

Sarge showed the text to Nat who stood next to him back up at the scene of the crash. Nat nodded and looked relieved. He had confided in Sarge about the trouble the twins were causing and Sarge had covered for him at times and made Nat also take some leave. Both of them had slowly come to realise that families were more important than work. But work was where they were late that Friday, as they watched the portable floodlights get turned on underneath the huge marquee, one of many that now covered various parts of the plane.

Chapter 2

There were no bodies on the ground. All had been removed and were being pieced together in the morgue below ground at the Cairns Base hospital. Two crew and five passengers had died and at best guess, on impact, though a full and detailed autopsy and post mortem would have to take place. The fact that the bodies weren’t incinerated in the fireballs that erupted after the crash was due to pure luck. Sarge could see simply from the marquee placements on the hillside how fortunate, from at least the investigators’ viewpoint, the crash had been. The lead CASA investigator outlined the plane’s path and what he believed had happened. There were normally fuel cells in the fuselage but judging on the lack of a catastrophic fire in the fuselage, these must have been emptied and the plane had been running on the wingtip tanks alone. Each one of these would be accessed concurrently to achieve balance during flight. The plane as it hit the hillside had flown through a narrow gap shearing both wings off. The fuselage had careened further on up the hillside, ploughing a path through the dense tropical rainforest, breaking into pieces as it moved on at a much-reduced speed. The explosions that had been seen were from the wings which had been cast adrift at forty-five degrees on either side of the fuselage.

Due to the heavy rain that Cairns had experienced in the fortnight before the crash, the foliage was lush and the ground remarkably soft and giving. Sarge had felt the squelch underneath his rubber boots as he had walked down to the site from the nearest entry point. It was amazing what devastation a whole lot of metal and man-made materials could create both to the forest and also to people, he thought. But he was not there for philosophical thinking. The CASA investigator was explaining what had been found. This was no ordinary business flight nor even a business jet. The circumstances around everything in the fuselage was immensely suspicious. Sarge listened intently and Detective Sergeant Nat Johns took notes as they listened.

"This sort of plane travelling a large distance would normally have three crew. Two pilots and a navigator who would take turns acting as cabin staff as well. If the trip was quite long, this allowed a rest period on a shift rotation as well. But there were only two crew. One would assume that both were pilots with navigating ability. Only one person was strapped into any seat when the plane made impact. He was in the pilot’s seat as one would expect. The others were in the main part of the cabin. Their bodies were thrown around like ragdolls when the plane crashed. They were not strapped in, nor in any brace position. This would indicate that they had no idea what was about to happen. The window shades weren’t drawn so that is curious as any one of the passengers and crew would have noticed how low they were flying and even at the last second once they saw the coast have become alarmed enough to at least put a belt on.

None of the flight crew nor their passengers had any identification on them, nor was there any baggage that may have been helpful identifying them. We have of course identified the plane. It was a Learjet 75 built by the Canadian aircraft manufacturer Bombardier. It was sold to a company that we have found is really only a shell company whose nominated headquarters is a small bank in the Cayman Islands. We will not get any further on that front except to find that it was leased to another shell company and that will just further muddy the waters. We have not been able to find a take-off point, nor a flight plan lodged anywhere. But these things aren’t the strangest things we have found, the man paused and pointed to some parts of the fuselage where the wall linings had been ripped from the outer skin, I’m afraid we did some of the tearing of the wall lining because we noticed something peculiar. Do you know what these things are?

Both Sarge and Nat peered closely and there was a deep intake of breath from both of them. A range of military standard armaments from grenades through to assault rifles could be seen.

If you come over to where one of the wings exploded. There’s something I’d like to show you, the investigator said as he walked back down the hill.

Sarge thought that the man must have had a very good imagination to even begin to believe that the burnt-out area and small pieces of charred metal, indicated that there actually was a wing of a plane there. He nearly slipped as they came to a halt.

You need to be especially careful here, don’t touch anything with your hands, was the quick remark directed at him, It’s not safe at all. I couldn’t understand why there was such a massive fireball as most fuel cells are designed to cope better with impact, especially in these later model jets. We have come such a long way in recent times and all those action movies where you see planes blowing up in ground shattering explosions are just Hollywood special effects. He then pointed to some sticky material splattered on some foliage that hadn’t caught on fire. I have sent this off to Canberra for analysis but, based on the weaponry we saw in the fuselage, I reckon the wings were also packed with canisters of napalm. That would account for the size and the length of time of the fire following the explosion. I wonder whether these people knew that they were actually in a flying bomb, whether they thought they were just delivering an arms shipment or whether they actually had no idea what was on board. I’ve seen the bodies. I don’t think they are going to be able to tell us. This is out of my league. You are the senior police investigating officer and I’m handing it to you but I have a feeling that people elsewhere will want to know very quickly about this. The people of Cairns were very lucky. If the jet had hit the city or any residential area, my guess is that half of the city would have been wiped out.

Sarge looked at the man who was now indicating to his team that they might as well pack up. Sarge had now been handed all responsibility and he really didn’t know where to start. His mind was busy replaying the image of the jet flying above his head and he shuddered involuntarily as it dawned on him that his family and Nat’s along with so many others could have easily died. Then his mind started to think more rationally. Whoever was involved would know of the crash and police tape wasn’t going to be enough. He called the CASA investigator back and asked that all the marquees be kept in place. He would light up the crash scene like a fairy ground just to secure the evidence. He then made a call to his boss who was just heading out the door. After a brief explanation, his request for a massive police guard around the crash site was agreed to. There would be grumbles among the ranks and also the bean counters about the extra overtime, but Sarge wasn’t worried.

Over the years Sarge had built up a huge network of colleagues in different parts of the police force, national security and the defence force. There were people in ASIO and the AFP he could trust implicitly. He and Nat walked back to the car up the hill and managed to get less cracklier reception on their phones. While Nat arranged temporary fencing for the site, Sarge started to make phone calls to Brisbane and Canberra. One important one was a local one. Without going into detail, he apologised telling Sarah that something had come up at the crash site and that in all probability he was going to be busy for the next few days. He would sleep and shower at the station when he could. Nat would be doing likewise. He asked that Jess be informed.

Chapter 3

The bickering had started at the front desk of the police station when a junior constable, manning the reception there, had politely asked for the weapons that were being carried to be handed over immediately or those carrying them would progress no further or be arrested for bringing them in to a police station without declaring them. He was well within his rights to do so, but having someone relatively junior put people in their place didn’t go down well at all and angry words were spoken. All of a sudden, a few burly policemen had three people surrounded and the ask became a demand. It also brought out the leading uniformed officer who eyed these people, two dressed in different uniforms