Airframe by Michael Crichton Read Free Book Online Page A

over.”
    Richman was annoyed by Burne’s tone. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been on planes where turbulence got pretty rough—”
    “Ever see anybody get
killed
on one of those planes?”
    “Well, no …”
    “Seen people thrown from their seats?”
    “No …”
    “Seen injuries of any kind?”
    “No,” Richman said, “I haven’t.”
    “That’s right,” Burne said.
    “But surely it is possible that—”
    “Possible?” Burne said. “You mean like in court, where anything is possible?”
    “No, but—”
    “You’re a lawyer, right?”
    “Yes, I am, but—”
    “Well you better get one thing straight, right now. We’re not doing law, here. Law is a bunch of bullshit. This is an
aircraft
. It’s a
machine
. And either something happened to this machine, or it didn’t. It’s not a matter of
opinion
. So why don’t you shut the fuck up and let us work?”
    Richman winced, but didn’t back down. “Fine,” he said, “but if it wasn’t turbulence, there’ll be evidence—”
    “That’s right,” Burne said, “the seat-belt sign. Pilot hits turbulence, the first thing he does is flash the seat-belt sign, and make an announcement. Everybody buckles up, and nobody gets hurt. This guy never made an announcement.”
    “Maybe the sign doesn’t work.”
    “Look up.” With a ping, the seat-belt sign came on above their heads.
    “Maybe the announcement doesn’t—”
    Burne’s amplified voice said, “Working, working, you better believe it’s working.” The PA clicked off.
    Dan Greene, the chubby operations inspector from theFSDO, came on board, puffing from the climb up the metal stairs. “Hey, guys, I got your certificate to ferry the plane to Burbank. I figured you want to take the bird to the plant.”
    “Yeah, we do,” Casey said.
    “Hey, Dan,” Kenny Burne called. “Nice job keeping the flight crew here.”
    “Fuck you,” Greene said. “I had my guy at the gate a minute after the plane arrived. The crew was already gone.” He turned to Casey. “They get the stiff out?”
    “Not yet, Dan. He’s wedged in pretty tight.”
    “We got the other dead bodies off, and sent the seriously injured to Westside hospitals. Here’s the list.” He handed a sheet of paper to Casey. “Only a few are still at the ’port infirmary.”
    Casey said, “How many are still here?”
    “Six or seven. Including a couple of stewardesses.”
    Casey said, “Can I talk to them?”
    “Don’t see why not,” Greene said.
    Casey said, “Van? How much longer?”
    “Figure an hour, minimum.”
    “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to take the car.”
    “And take fucking Clarence Darrow with you,” Burne said.

LAX
10:42 A.M.
    Driving in the van, Richman gave a long exhale. “Jeez,” he said. “Are they always so friendly?”
    Casey shrugged. “They’re engineers,” she said. She was thinking, What did he expect? He must have dealt with engineers at GM. “Emotionally, they’re all thirteen years old, stuck at the age just before boys stop playing with toys, because they’ve discovered girls. They’re all still playing with toys. They have poor social skills, dress badly—but they’re extremely intelligent and well trained, and they are very arrogant in their way. Outsiders are definitely not allowed to play.”
    “Especially lawyers …”
    “Anybody. They’re like chess masters. They don’t waste time with amateurs. And they’re under a lot of pressure now.”
    “You’re not an engineer?”
    “Me? No. And I’m a woman. And I’m from QA. Three reasons why I don’t count. Now Marder’s made me IRT liaison to the press, which is another strike. The engineers all hate the press.”
    “Will there be press on this?”
    “Probably not,” she said. “It’s a foreign carrier, foreigners died, the incident didn’t occur in the United States. And they don’t have visuals. They won’t pay any attention.”
    “But it seems so serious …”
    “Serious isn’t a