Natanz

By Robert Roughton

"Natanz" is a fast-paced story, involving cockpit power-plays, engine failures, near misses, love, lust, and international intrigue. Tom is a skilled executive jet pilot working for an obnoxious boss. When threatened with the sack for cancelling a charter when the senior pilot freezes during a near miss, almost killing them all, he resigns and purchases a struggling charter company. Sinking all he has into the venture, he struggles to build the company, while his relationship with his cabin attendant girlfriend is falling apart. When Tom foils an attempt on the life of one of his new customers, saving his crippled plane from an on-board explosion and seemingly unrecoverable loss of control, he becomes the target of the would-be assassin. Recovering from the attempt on his life, he is approached by the CIA to fly a defecting scientist from Iran under the guise of a charter flight. Against his better judgement he accepts the mission and transfers to England for intensive low level flight training at the Mac Loop. Surviving an engine failure and crash, he re-evaluates his commitment to the mission. Deciding to continue with the mission, he flies into Iran. On the flight out, he declares an emergency, and drops below radar height, landing at night on a country road to affect the pick up of the defecting scientist and his family. For the next three hours, he must fly at low level, avoiding searching aircraft. Discovered, and fired upon, his aircraft is badly damaged and crashes in Saudi Arabia. Tom is trapped in the burning wreck, convinced he is about to die. Drifting in and out of semi-consciousness he is aware of the medical team fighting to save his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RuffPub
• Release date: Jan 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215908761

Robert Roughton

Robert Roughton’s background is in corporate management with Australian and multinational corporations in the electronics industry. In addition to managing his own software company providing specialized support to corporations including one of the world’s largest emergency medical support corporations and several multinational banks he is currently a customer technical support manager with a major multinational consumer electronics corporation.His academic achievements include a Master of Management, MBA and Master of Arts (Writing)Robert has a deep interest in flying, and accumulated several million air miles in the course of his career. Being a very frequent customer on several airlines, he has been invited into the cockpit on several occasions, including a memorable sideslip landing at Singapore Changi in severe weather. Yes! The Captain really does say “I have the aircraft” when he takes control from the First Officer at the last moment.His flight experience at the controls includes light planes and a helicopter, and he has used his observations and knowledge of cockpit and airport procedures, plus the technical aspects and flight characteristics of the various aircraft in Natanz to ensure the in-flight action is true to life.He has been on aircraft that have suffered an engine out during takeoff, an in-flight engine fire and a wind sheer incident at Dallas Fort Worth, plus dozens of inevitably bumpy sideslip landings and go-arounds at Wellington, New Zealand.His first book, Natanz combines his interests in aircraft and politics and is particularly relevant to current Middle East politics.His second book, Love Betrayed explores teenage love, betrayal and suicide.Robert’s latest book Scrivener V3 for Windows is a visual tutorial on the program he uses in all his writings. This book explains how to get the most from Scrivener from first jottings to self publishing in multiple formats on all the popular author platforms. This book will be released alongside the Scrivener V3 Windows release, now anticipated for late 2020.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

WILSON, GET YOUR ass in here, now!

Tom looked up at Frans, wondering what the bastard wanted this time. He’d hoped for a quiet day, with just the one short charter, no drama, and was sure that was all about to go out the window. Looking at Frans, Tom struggled to understand how such a sloppily dressed overweight slob could own a successful business that relied on client contact and perception. About 5’7" Frans had to weigh at least 230 pounds, with a gut that hung down over his belt. Tom found Frans’ jowly face unpleasant to look at, and his habit of scratching his belly when he spoke off-putting.

Lately, it seemed every time Frans called him into his office, it was to bitch about something. After a successful career in the US and Europe piloting 737’s and A320’s, and now six years as an executive jet pilot, Tom knew he was good and the company’s most profitable pilot. That seemed to matter for nothing with Frans.

Frans’ policy was to mix pilots and clients around to prevent pilots from getting too friendly, and potentially taking them with them should they leave. When several large customers informed Frans, they would take their business elsewhere unless Tom was their permanent pilot, Frans' attitude had turned nasty. Not enough to force him out, but sufficient to make life difficult.

He had spent the past few months thinking the move to Executive Class had been the dumbest in his career. Tom felt he needed to suck it up and find a way to diffuse the problem with Frans or make a move very soon. The constant sniping was doing his head in.

Sure thing, Frans. Tom pushed his chair back, and headed to Frans’ office, closing the door behind himself.

Frans looked up with his usual scowl. I’d usually give this task to Gil; however he’s tied up flying Bill Clinton around Europe for the next week. As our only other command-rated G650 pilot, you’re up. I’ll assign your afternoon flight to one of the other pilots.

No problem, Frans. What’s the gig?

We’ve managed to snare a new client, Chris Gail, the pro basketball player. He used to use Liberty Air for his executive jet hire. They’ve had a falling out, and he’s giving us a try. He wants to leave for New York first thing this morning.

Frans paused to scratch his belly. By all accounts, he’s a difficult client; always wants planes on short notice, makes outrageous demands, and can get a bit difficult mid-flight. The upside is, he spends over half a million a year on flights, and we can get some great PR if he likes us. You need to step up on this one, perfect flight, suck up to the guy, and make certain he wants to use us again.

Another pause for a belly scratch before Frans leaned forward, pointing a finger at Tom. Whatever you do, don’t fuck up. Piss Gail off, and it’s your job.

Just what I don’t need, a rush job with a difficult client was Tom's immediate thought. I’ll tell Lisa and Amanda to prep the cabin and get Matt to start in the cockpit. We’ll be ready as soon as he arrives.

Don’t bother. You won’t be with your usual crew on this flight. I’m assigning Liz and Sharon in the cabin, they have more experience, and Karlson will be listed as your co. He usually flies left seat, though doesn’t have enough hours for command on the G650. It won’t harm to have two full pilots in the cockpit, and he’ll be Pilot Flying for both sectors to get his hours up.

Tom could see where all this was going. Rush to increase Karlson’s PF hours on the G650 so he could be Command rated, and Frans wouldn’t so reliant on him or Gil. Though he’d never flown with Karlson the word from other pilots was he had an abrupt, officious manner and a heavy hand on the controls.

Despite the hassle of flying with Karlson, it would be pleasant having Sharon in the cabin. No one at E.C. knew they were lovers and lived together. For the last two years, they had succeeded in hiding their relationship from all but their best friends; always seeming professionally distant when they interacted around the company. Frans had firm rules about pilot and crew fraternization. If he found out, one of them would be forced to leave.

Don’t worry Frans, he’ll love our service, on the ground, and in the air. I do have reservations about Karlson though. The word from other pilots is he has an overinflated opinion of himself and his abilities.

Frans leaned forward, pointed his finger at Tom, and raised his voice, It’s not open for discussion. You’ll work with Karlson and get along. Remember, he’s been here longer than you, just doesn’t have the G650 hours. You’re Pilot In Command because it’s required by law. He has more seniority than you, and unless there’s an essential reason for you to do otherwise, you just warm the left seat, and leave the flying and command to him.

Tom spread his hands, almost in appeal, Frans, are you certain there isn’t someone else you can assign me?

Frans thumped his desk, his neck becoming red with rage. Let’s get one thing straight. This is my company, and I decide who works with whom, and unless you’re looking to be unemployed, you’ll fly with Karlson and not piss him or our client off. Sue’s got the flight details, now fuck off, sort your paperwork, and get down to the plane! He paused, wiping spittle from his lips before continuing. I’ve already spoken with Karlson, and he’ll be waiting for you. Move your ass. Gail wants wheels up in under an hour!

You’re the boss.

Just don’t fuck it up! Frans pointed to the door.

Tom stood and left Frans’ office, fuming at his impossible orders.

Ten hours stuck in the cockpit with Karlson worried him. Apart from Karlson’s reputed arrogance and poor skills, being in the impossible position of legally being Pilot In Command, while effectively only a copilot worried him.

As PIC, if anything did happen, he would get it in the neck, even if Karlson was in command at the time. He could just see Karlson and Frans ducking for cover and leaving his ass on the line. Despite Frans’ orders he had to make it clear before startup that he was PIC. The last thing needed in an emergency was two pilots each thinking they were in command. If Karlson refused, he would have to walk off the plane and face the consequences.

Returning to his desk, Tom thought through the charter. He hadn’t flown with Liz before, so had no direct experience of her cabin skills, though she had a good reputation. Like all the Executive Class cabin attendants, Liz was a tall, very good-looking woman. She had jet black hair and a great figure. Her boyfriend, Kevin was one of his friends, so he knew her socially. She was the only person in the company who knew of his relationship with Sharon.

He thought of his relationship with Sharon. Things had been a little strained lately, with Sharon saying she loved him, and being upset he could not say the same in return. He cared for her immensely, enjoyed her company, yet but love was a word he struggled to say.

Finalizing the paperwork took Tom almost half an hour. Once completed and submitted, he, headed for the plane. Stepping outside the office, he took in the lines of the less than 6 month old G650. It gleamed in the sunlight, a glistening tube, with wings that swept up at the tips, a high tail, and a sleek jet engine fixed to each side at the rear of the fuselage. To Tom, it was one of the most beautiful aircraft in the world, the ultimate long-range executive jet. As one of only two G650 command-rated pilots in the company, he had the pleasure of piloting this beauty almost daily.

He wondered what would happen once Karlson achieved his command rating on the G650. Would Frans condemn him to flying short hops in the smaller aircraft?

Pausing for a moment, he breathed in the air. While some hated it, he loved the smell of jet fuel; a promise of the thrill of flying to come.

Mounting the stairs, he said hello in passing to Liz and Sharon, before entering the cockpit and taking the left, Pilot In Command seat. Karlson was already settled in the right seat. Karlson appeared mid 40’s with a TV preacher look about him.

Hi, Karlson. Frans asked me to let you fly both sectors of this charter as Pilot Flying, to get your G650 hours up. We’ll start the pre-flight, assuming you’re in command, and I’ll only step in if there’s a need.

Karlson turned to Tom and sneered.

Frans had already spoken to me. You’re only in the left seat for NTSB legal requirements. I’m in command, and you won’t be stepping in for any reason. Now, copilot, let’s start the pre-flight.

Tom was in two minds. If he were to dispute Karlson he would risk being fired, if he acquiesced he’d be breaking the law. Losing his job was bad enough; losing his pilot’s license would be far worse. He lived to fly.

Locking his eyes on Karlson’s he stabbed towards him with his finger. No Karlson. I don’t give a fuck what Frans said. I’m legally responsible for the safety of this plane. While you will be PF for the entire flight, if I feel the need to take command at any time, I will do so and you will comply instantly. If you’re not prepared to accept that, get off the plane now, and I’ll find another co.

Karlson sat open-mouthed for a moment. Frans has insisted I pilot the flight. You can’t force me off.

Again, he stabbed his finger towards Karlson, locking his glare, and snarling. This flight has to go today, and I’m the only command-rated G650 pilot. Pick a fight and you’ll be the one left behind!

Karlson’s face was red. Have it your way, but I’ll be letting Frans know once we get back.

Tom made to respond, then decided not to. If Karlson made good on his threat it could be the end of his days at Executive Class, but that was a concern for after the flight. He needed to focus on the immediate. Beginning the remaining pre-flight, he tried to push the argument from his mind. A distracted pilot was an unsafe pilot.

Part way through the checklist, he saw a man he assumed was Gail heading towards the plane with one of the ground client attendants. Shit, the man was tall. He had to be at least 6’ 8, possibly more. He was slim with solid muscle. Here’s our client. I’ll go down and welcome him."

Karlson was quick to respond, You keep on the pre-flight. I’m senior, I’ll go.

Tom shook his head. This flight was turning to shit. Was it going to be one argument after another to New York and return?

I don’t care how senior you are Karlson, I’m PIC, and I must welcome the client. If he has any problems, it’s my ass.

Karlson made as if to respond, then seemed to change his mind and shrugged his shoulders. Suit yourself.

Tom left his seat and exited the plane, meeting Gail at the foot of the stairs. Close-up, Tom thought his 5’ 10 seemed dwarfed. Mr. Gail I’m Tom Wilson. I’ll be your pilot today. We’re just completing pre-flight checks, and should be ready to start engines in five minutes. Meanwhile, I’d like to introduce you to today’s cabin staff, Liz and Sharon. They will take care of all your needs during the flight."

Gail looked at the girls, before turning to Tom, Whatever. I need to be in New York as soon as possible. We’re going to pick up my girlfriend and return here for dinner this evening. Make it a quick flight and a smooth one. He started up the stairs, before turning to Tom, Can we get moving!

As soon as we’ve completed checks and have clearance to start, we’ll be on the move, Mr. Gail. Tom closed his eyes for a second. Just what I don’t need. An arrogant ass in the cockpit and another in the cabin. The day couldn’t end soon enough.

Returning to the cockpit, and strapping in, he turned to Karlson. He’s a difficult one. Let’s get the check finished. Call the Tower and request permission to start and taxi.

You call the Tower. As Frans said, I’m in charge in here.

Tom closed his eyes, wondering how much worse could this flight get? He thought about telling Karlson to get the hell off his plane; however, that would have meant extra delay waiting for a new co, with Gail getting more arrogant and irate at best, and dismissal most likely outcome.

Toggling the radio he made the call. Burbank Tower, this is Executive Class ECA651, requesting permission to start, and taxi for departure runway 15 to Teterboro, New York.

The response was almost immediate. ECA651, this is Burbank Tower, permission to start and proceed on taxiway B to holding point end of runway 15. Call for take-off on arrival. Watch for ground vehicles approaching B3.

Thank you, Tower. He turned to Karlson, Starting One.

Karlson just nodded his head.

Tom continued, One started. Do you want to begin the taxi, while I start Two?

Karlson looked at Tom, I usually start both engines before initiating taxi

Tom often started both engines first, however with the long taxi today, there was ample time to start the second engine while taxiing and still complete all checks. He forced a smile at Karlson. Are you going to begin taxi, or shall I?

Karlson didn’t respond, just nodded and signaled the ground crew, before releasing the brakes and opening the throttle on engine one.

Tom spoke again, Starting Two.

In silence apart from necessary cross-checks, Karlson taxied the plane to the holding point, Request permission to depart. There was no attempt and pleasantry, just the barked command.

Tom toggled the radio, Burbank Tower, this is ECA651 requesting permission to take off.

It was several moments before the tower’s response. ECA651, hold for Embraer on finals, then position. As soon as he clears the runway, you have permission to depart. Turn to 270 at 300 feet. You are cleared to 3000. Hold at 3,000 on 270 and contact SOCAL departures on 124.6.

Roger, Tower. ECA651 holding for Embraer, then departing. Holding at 3000, heading 270. Turning to Karlson, Tom continued, Hold for Embraer on finals, then position, We have permission to depart as soon as he clears the runway.

Karlson snapped back, I heard.

Tom scowled at Karlson. Fuck this was going to be a hard flight. The thought crossed his mind, he should just pull back to the apron and cancel the flight. Two angry pilots in the same cockpit wouldn’t make for safe flying.

He knew canceling would almost certainly guarantee his being sacked on the spot. While he had plans, the timing wasn’t right. Taking a deep breath, he told himself to just suck it up and focus on being the professional in the cockpit.

The Embraer crossed in front, landing several hundred feet down the runway, snapping him from his thoughts.

Karlson advanced the throttles, pulling forward and positioning on the runway.

There was no comment or command, though Tom knew the copilot’s duties by heart. He moved the flaps lever to the take-off setting as the Embraer pulled off onto the taxiway. Flaps 20, clear to depart.

Karlson released the brakes. Take-off power. Again just an abrupt command without as much as a sideways glance.

Tom advanced the throttles, confirming; take-off power.

Karlson glanced at the throttles, call speeds.

Tom split his focus between scanning the runway and the instruments, calling the speeds as they accelerated. 60, 90, 125 V1, 136 Rotate.

Karlson pulled back on the controls, too abruptly for Tom’s liking, and the plane lifted into the air.

Tom continued calling, 50, 100 feet, reaching and moving the landing gear lever, gear up.

Karlson glanced to Tom, Autopilot on, set 270 and 3000ft.

Tom moved the flaps selector to zero, flaps zero, and began scanning for traffic. As they passed through 1,000 feet, he noticed Karlson was focused directly ahead, not scanning for traffic on his side.

Karlson, you need to, He was interrupted by the Tower.

ECA651, watch for a plane approaching approx two miles forward, one mile to your right on a parallel course. He’s drifted from his approved flight path and not responding. His current path holds him parallel until you’re well past.

Karlson didn’t seem to react, continuing to stare directly ahead. Tom scanned the sky in the direction indicated. Spotting a moving plane while moving your eyes was almost impossible. He used the standard, move ten degrees, hold and look for 1 second, then move another ten. On the third step, he saw a flash of sunlight on metal forward and to their right. Pointing to the flash, he said, there he is. Keep an eye on him, Karlson.

Karlson seemed to glance in the direction Tom pointed, He’s well clear of us.

Keep an eye on him, all the same.

Tom glanced at Karlson again. There was no apparent reaction. This flight was going to be truly painful. Maybe if he just ignored him and only spoke when essential, it wouldn’t be so bad. He reminded himself, focus on safety; focus as if he was the only person in the cockpit.

That thought was interrupted by the Traffic Collision Avoidance System, Traffic, Traffic, followed almost immediately by the more urgent Climb, Climb.

Tom glanced to where the plane should have been. Fuck! The bastard’s turned towards us, climb!

Karlson kept looking ahead, with no apparent reaction. Tom felt the beginnings of panic, as he yelled, I have the aircraft, grabbing and pulling back on the controls.

The TCAS became more strident Increase Climb, Increase Climb.

Karlson broke from his daze, pushing back on the controls, against Tom’s input.

Tom yelled, an almost scream, I have the aircraft, release your controls, I have the aircraft! Climbing to avoid! as he reached and increased power.

The TCAS repeated, Increase Climb, Increase Climb.

Finally seeming to realize the urgency, Karlson lifted his hands from the controls, and the column pulled back. You have the plane.

Tom eased the pressure, watching his instruments to avoid pulling the plane into a stall. Looking out the front window on Karlson’s side, he caught a glimpse of the aircraft, far too close crossing at right angles, certain to collide, a sick feeling overtaking him. They were dead. Keep trying! Go around power!

Karlson reacted instantly, pushing the throttles to the stops. Go around power. Oh, God! He was now leaning forward, staring at the other plane, blocking Tom’s view, seemingly mesmerized by their approaching doom. Oh, God!

The TCAS continued its demand, Increase climb, increase climb.

As the power increased, Tom kept pulling back at the limit of a stall, waiting for the inevitable. Would their death be instant, or would the plane plummet from the sky, with them alive until the end? In what he expected would be his last act, he flicked the radio Burbank Tower, ECA651, TCAS instruction climbing sharply. Going to be close!

The plane rocked slightly; then nothing, the TCAS was silent for a moment, then Clear Of Conflict, only the increasing scream of the engines.

Tom struggled to comprehend. How were they still alive?

Glancing back to his left; he saw the other plane disappearing into the distance. He eased the controls forward, reducing their climb. Climb Thrust.

Karlson reached forward to pull the throttles back, responding to the command, but not speaking.

The silence of the cockpit was broken by the radio.

ECA651, roger your climb. Level at 3,000 and contact SOCAL Departures. He turned 3 miles too soon. We’ll need your incident report within 48 hours.

Roger, Burbank. That was close! I want a full NTSB report on that idiot!

Trying to control his breathing and his temper, Tom looked at Karlson who sat ashen-faced, shaking his head. When I say I have the aircraft, I expect immediate compliance, regardless of any fucking seniority you think you have, I’m PIC, and responsible for the safety of this aircraft. Do I make myself clear?

Karlson seemed unable to look at him, staring straight ahead, You didn’t give me time to respond.

Unable to control his building rage Tom shouted. Respond! You froze, then fought my input! You almost killed us! You can kill yourself any time you like, just don’t take me and our crew with you. Managing a semblance of control, Tom considered returning to Burbank, though decided against it, and leveled off, reducing the throttles to cruise. If Frans hadn’t said this client was so damned important, I’d turn around and throw your ass off the plane. One of our junior pilots would be a safer bet than you.

Taking a deep breath to steady his voice, he toggled the cabin p/a. This is your captain. My apologies for the sudden climb. We had an aircraft turn across our path. There was no immediate danger. However, it was necessary to climb sharply to maintain safe separation. We will shortly be climbing to 45,000 feet and expect a smooth ride to New York. I’ll get back to you during the flight with any updates.

Tom turned his head toward Karlson, I am going to captain the rest of the flight. You will act as copilot, and your log will reflect that.

Frans insisted I fly in command, Karlson shouted, pointing a finger at Tom.

Tom jabbed his finger towards Karlson. I don’t give a fuck what Frans said. I’m legally responsible for the safety of this aircraft. You will serve as copilot, or we return to Burbank. Realizing he was breaking one of the cardinal rules of low-level flying, Sterile Cockpit, Tom took a deep breath and began scanning for traffic.

He noticed Karlson was still glaring at him, apparently unaware of the instruments or the world outside the cockpit.

Focus on your role as co-pilot and adhere to sterile cockpit regulations below 10,000.

Karlson raised his hand as if to object, then looked down, frowning.

Tom continued scanning the sky for traffic, he realized his heart was still beating extremely fast, and he was aware of a thumping in his chest, almost as if it wanted to explode. He couldn’t stop himself wondering how close they had come to death. It can’t have been more than five or ten feet, possibly much closer. Inches? Close enough to rock the plane noticeably.

He was roused from his thoughts by the buzz of the cockpit door. Here goes, irate client after the sudden climb and almost collision? Tom pressed the door unlock, and glanced back.

Sharon stepped through the door, closing it behind her. He immediately noticed she was gripping the back of the jump seat with one hand, her whole body seeming to shake. Sit down Sharon.

CHAPTER TWO

SHARON SLUMPED INTO the jump seat, gripping the back of Tom’s. She opened her mouth several times, before managing to speak. We almost died, didn’t we? I was looking out the window and saw him go just under us. How did he get so close? her whole body shook as she spoke.

Splitting his focus between the sky and Sharon, Tom could see, she was on the edge of cracking, and needed calming. He smiled and reached back, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. He wanted to stand, to wrap his arms around her, but there was no way he was leaving Karlson in control of the aircraft.

The TCAS didn’t pick him early enough because of his sudden turn across us. Just as well I hadn’t nodded off yet. He wasn’t quite as close as he looked, so we were safe. Was there any comment from Gail?

Shaking a little, though showing signs of a little more color, Sharon shook her head. No, he seemed busy reading something, and only glanced up. I think he was happy with your explanation.

Tom squeezed her hand again and looked into her eyes. Take a moment if you like to get your nerves settled, then get back there and try to look relaxed. I promise I’ll get you home alive and in one piece.

Still looking a little uncertain, Sharon squeezed his hand back, Thanks.

When you get a free moment in the cabin, I wouldn’t mind a snack from the galley. A sandwich of some sort and a soda would be great. He hoped if Sharon thought he was so relaxed he was thinking about food, she might think the whole incident was no big thing to him. The reality was; a sandwich was the last thing he felt like.

I’ll be back shortly Tom. Smiling at Tom, and making a kiss shape at him with her lips, Sharon stood and turned to Karlson. Would you like anything?

No, and you can address me as Captain.

Sorry, Captain. Sharon turned, smiled again at Tom, and ran her hand over his shoulder as she left the cockpit, closing the door behind her.

Karlson shook his head. I saw her make a kiss and touch you as she left. You’re fucking her. He paused for a moment, before glaring at Tom. Frans will fire one of you, once I tell him. his look seemed to change to one of anticipation.

Tom knew he or Sharon, possibly both would out of a job if Hans believed Karlson. He’d try to talk to her to coordinate their stories before they returned. Meanwhile, there was Karlson to be managed,

Karlson, I’m in command of this plane. I set policy in my cockpit, and I don’t give a damn what you or Frans think. Shut the fuck up, focus on your job and maintain sterile cockpit regs.

Karlson just shook his head and looked directly ahead. He seemed to be stewing on something. After a moment, he turned his head. I’ll be reporting your actions when we return. I had control of the plane, and your panic surprised me, endangering us.

Tom looked at Karlson in shock, stunned for a moment. You had control? Like hell, you did. You froze asshole, and my report will reflect that.

Tom paused for a moment. They were so busy arguing, neither was giving full attention to flying the plane. While the autopilot was controlling the plane, there was a need to be alert for traffic, and maintain a sterile cockpit below Ten Thousand. There was no way he could spend ten hours locked in the cockpit with a pilot he could not rely on to respond in an emergency. We’re returning. There’s no way I’m flying anywhere with you.

Tom toggled the radio. Burbank Tower, ECA651. Request vector for return.

There was silence for several moments, then a hesitant response. ECA651, are you seeking a priority return?

Negative, just a return vector and landing slot. Tom felt like saying yes. His only wish was to be back on the ground and away from Karlson. He glanced at Karlson, who was glaring at him, his face already red.

Again, there were several seconds of silence, before the tower responded. ECA651, turn 160 and descend to 1500. Slow to 180 knots. You have a 737 three miles directly ahead on 160. Maintain separation.

ECA651, turning 160, descending for 1500. Tom took another deep breath. The shit was about to hit the fan. He toggled the cabin p/a. This is your captain. We are making a precautionary return to Burbank. Cabin crew prepare for landing. He glanced at Karlson, who was still glaring. Begin landing checklist.

Karlson’s face was now bright red. He made several unintelligible sounds before managing to speak. Frans doesn’t like you. Canceling a flight with no good reason is almost guaranteed to get you fired. When I tell him you’re fucking Sharon, you’ll be out of a job.

Tom saw the beginning of a smirk on Karlson’s face. Clearly, the thought of getting him fired was enough to overcome Karlson’s rage.

Shut up, or I’ll write you up for sterile breach in addition to failing to relinquish control.

There was no replay, just a shake of the head from Karlson.

The next five minutes were spent in stony silence, broken only by Tom giving commands for flaps and landing gear as they lined up on finals.

As they crossed 200 feet, the Ground Proximity Warning System called; ‘Minimums.' Tom made a last-minute check of the instruments and focussed on the runway. The GPWS called ‘100 feet,’ followed by ’50, 20, 10.’

Tom glided the aircraft onto the runway with the faintest of squeaks from the tires, then focussed on slowing for their taxiway.

Taxiing to the Executive Class apron, he turned to Karlson. Shut down, and complete post-flight checks. I’ll go speak with our client.

I’d love to see how you’re going to explain this. Karlson seemed pleased with the thought.

Tom stood and headed back to the passenger cabin. What to say? Gail seemed as if he might have a short temper when he met him earlier.

Entering the cabin, Tom hesitated for a moment. Turning to Sharon, he spoke quietly. Open the door and wait at the bottom of the stairs. We’ll either be getting a new copilot, or Gail will be transferred to another aircraft. He considered telling her Karlson knew they were an item, but decided it could wait.

Seeing Tom, Gail stood and approached. Why the hell have we returned? There will be hell to pay if I’m late into New York.

Tom decided not to be drawn into a discussion. Best to just get Gail off the plane. Mr. Gail, I’ll have one of our cabin team escort you to the VIP lounge while we address a minor technical issue. Tom turned to Liz. Liz, please escort Mr. Gail to the lounge and ensure he is comfortable. I expect we’ll be underway in a very short time.

Yes, Captain. Liz smiled and indicated for Gail to exit the cabin, following him down the stairs and towards the Executive Class office.

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Tom followed them down the stairs, stopping next to Sharon. Please check the cabin and tidy as necessary. I may be back. I may not.

Sharon leaned forward, touching Tom’s hand. Why? What happened in the cockpit?

Hesitating for a moment, Tom wondered just how much to say. Karlson failed to react to the TCAS, then fought my taking control. It was as close as you thought.

Sharon’s hand flew to her mouth, Thanks for not telling me that in the air. I would have lost it. She looked down for a moment, then gripped Tom’s hand. I’ve never liked flying with Karlson. He treats cabin staff like we’re second class. Could I ask to be assigned to your regular crew?

Tom thought for a moment. It might be pleasant to always fly together. There’s one major problem. There’s a good chance I’ll be unemployed in the next ten minutes.

What, for saving us from a mid-air? Sharon stepped closer, looking into his eyes.

Karlson will try to portray it differently. He’s more senior than me, and Frans already dislikes me so it could all turn to shit. Tom shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he was screwed

Sharon squeezed Tom’s hand. Protect yourself as much as you can. It seems whenever anything goes wrong, it’s never Karlson’s fault. She looked into his eyes, then stepped close, kissing his cheek. Whatever happens, thank you for saving us.

Tom looked around and saw their Maintenance Manager, Steve, at the entrance to the hangar.

We’ll talk later. He squeezed her hand and headed towards Steve.

Tom approached Steve and quickly looked around to see if he was being watched, or if anyone was close enough to hear. Satisfied the answer was ‘no’ on both counts he stopped. Steve, I’d appreciate it if you could pull the FDR and CVR and secure them. We had a near miss on departure, and I’ll need them for the NTSB. Leaning a little closer to Steve, Tom lowered his voice. I need them kept secure, and I’d rather Frans and Karlson don’t know they’ve been pulled. There is likely to be a dispute about who failed to do what, and I don’t want anyone tempted to misplace or overwrite anything.

Steve looked Tom in the eye. I’ll swap them out with the spares, and lock them away. As far as everyone else is concerned, they’re still in the tail. If Karlson fucked up, you can expect him to try to pin it on you. He’s pulled that one before.

He knew Karlson was difficult, but this was news. He’d have to make certain he covered all the angles. I appreciate the heads-up, Steve.

Never a problem, Tom.

Tom watched Steve head to collect his tools, knowing the recorders would soon be secure. He hoped he was just being paranoid, but preferred to be safe.

Sensing someone beside him, Tom glanced to see Liz looking at him. Sharon told me how close we came to being killed.

Tom shook his head. It was close, but we’re alive. That’s all that matters in the end.

You’re right, but thank you for saving us. Liz looked down for a moment. I always knew Karlson was an ass, but not that he was dangerous.

Tom thought for a moment. I’d better head in and face Frans. Wish me luck.

Good luck Tom. Liz reached to squeeze his hand.

Tom turned and headed for the office, trying to anticipate what Frans would have to say, and what his best response should be.

What the fuck is up with you! Frans stepped in front of Tom as he entered the office. His face was red with rage. Where do you get off, returning just because of a near miss?

Near miss! Yes, a damned near miss, that should have been a comfortable miss, but for that idiot, you paired me with. Tom struggled to control his anger. Turning to point in Karlson’s direction, he waved his arm. That ass Karlson failed to react, then fought my input. He almost killed us all. That’s why I returned! Tom felt the heat in his face, he suspected his had to be as red as Frans’. I returned because I’m not prepared to complete the flight with that lunatic. Either assign another co-pilot or send someone else!

Tom could see other staff staring, mouths open, clearly shocked by the shouting.

Get back on board and fly with Karlson or you’re fired! You don’t get to tell me what you will and won’t do! Frans was stabbing his finger towards Tom. Tom stepped back out of range of the spit that accompanied the rant. Frans’ face was so bright red Tom expected him to have a stroke at any moment.

I refuse to fly with Karlson. I’m resigning, effective this moment. Tom turned and headed for his desk. He heard Frans screaming at him.

You can’t resign, you’re fired! Clear your desk and get out. You’ll never work in this industry again!

Tom didn’t bother to look back. He could imagine Frans, his face even redder, spraying spit as he screamed.

As Tom approached his desk, Karlson passed heading towards Frans’ office, a smirk on his face. You’re fucked. Try getting another job in the industry.

As he cleared his desk, Tom sensed someone watching him and turned.

Sharon was several feet away, a concerned look on her face. Did I just hear right? Frans fired you?

Yes. I refused to fly with Karlson.

"What will you do?

I don’t know yet. It may be difficult finding a job with any other company, though there might be one for sale. Tom looked down, shaking his head.

Sharon moved a little closer and held Tom’s arm. A company for sale? Buy it, and I’ll join you. I can think of several others who would follow. She glanced quickly in the of Frans’ office, lowering her voice to a whisper I’m certain your regular customers would also.

Collier! Frans was standing at the door of his office.

Sharon jumped as if shocked. Yes, Frans.

Karlson’s rated on a G450 and will command the flight to New York. Get out to the 450 and prepare for the flight. Tell Liz Moore to join you.

Tom glanced between Frans and Sharon. The determined look on Sharon’s face told him the discussion wasn’t over. He’d seen that look several times when they argued.

Frans suddenly seemed to notice Tom. "Wilson! What the fuck are you still doing here? If you’re not gone within two minutes, I’ll have security throw you out.

Tom grabbed the last of his possessions and headed for the exit. He was stopped by Sharon’s response to Frans.

No! I’m not prepared to fly with Karlson. He almost killed us.

Get your ass on that plane or you’re fired!

Tom turned to watch. Frans was glaring at Sharon and pointing towards the Executive Class apron; his hand waving, unable to hold it steady in his rage. The entire office was standing, watching the growing fight.

Sharon glared back at Frans. No!

"You’re fired! Someone call security. I want Wilson and