Runway Zero-Eight by Arthur Hailey, John Castle Read Free Book Online

a deduction that has yet to be confirmed — I believe the cause of it to be the fish which was served to some of us at dinner.” An excited hubbub broke out at his words. “Now listen to me, please,” he said. “There is no cause for alarm. I repeat, there is no cause for alarm. The passengers who have suffered these attacks are being cared for by the stewardess and myself, and the captain has radioed ahead for more medical help to be standing by when we land. If you ate fish for dinner it doesn’t necessarily follow that you are going to be affected too. There’s seldom any hard and fast rule about this sort of thing and it’s perfectly possible that you’ll be entirely immune. However, we
are
going to take some precautions and the stewardess and I are coming round to you all. I want you to tell us if you ate fish. Remember, only if you ate fish. If you did, we’ll tell you how you can help yourselves. Now, if you’ll all settle down we’ll begin right away.” Baird took his finger off the button and turned to Janet. “All we can really do now is to give immediate first aid,” he said.
    Janet nodded. “You mean the pills, Doctor?”
    “There are two things we can do. We don’t know definitely what the source of the poisoning is but we can assume it’s been taken internally, so to begin with everyone who had fish must drink several glasses of water — I mean those who are not too ill, of course. That will help to dilute the poison and relieve the toxic effects. After that we’ll give an emetic. If there aren’t enough pills in my bag to go round we’ll have to use salt. Have you plenty of that?”
    “I’ve only got a few small packets that go with the lunches but we can break them open.”
    “Good. We’ll see how far the pills go first. I’ll start at the back here with the pills and you begin bringing drinking water to those people already affected, will you? Take some to the first officer too. You’ll need help.”
    Stepping out of the galley, Baird practically cannoned into the lean, lugubrious Englishman called ’Otpot.
    “Anything I can do, Doctor?” His voice was concerned.
    Baird allowed himself a smile. “Thanks. First, what did you have for dinner?”
    “Meat, thank heaven,” breathed ’Otpot fervently.
    “Right. We’re not going to worry about you then for the moment. Will you help the stewardess to hand water round to the passengers who are sick? I want them to drink at least three glasses if they can — more, if possible.”
    ’Otpot entered the galley, returning Janet’s rather tired little smile. In normal circumstances that smile of hers could be guaranteed to quicken the pulse of any airline staff but on this occasion the man beside her could see the hint of fear that lay behind it. He winked at her.
    “Don’t you worry, miss. Everything’s going to be all right.”
    Janet looked at him gratefully. “I’m sure it is, thanks. Look, here’s the water tap and there are the cups, Mr.—”
    “The boys call me ’Otpot.”
    “’Otpot?” repeated Janet incredulously.
    “Yes, Lancashire ’Otpot — you know.”
    “Oh!” Janet burst out laughing.
    “There, that’s better. Now, where are t’cups, you say? Come on, lass, let’s get started. A fine airline this is. Gives you your dinner, then asks for it back again.”
     
    It takes a very great deal to upset the equilibrium of a modern airport. Panic is a thing unknown in such places and would be ruthlessly stamped out if it occurred, for it can be a highly lethal activity.
    The control room at Vancouver, when Dun’s emergency call began to come through, presented a scene of suppressed excitement. In front of the radio panel an operator wearing headphones transcribed Dun’s incoming message straight on to a typewriter, pausing only to reach over and punch an alarm bell on his desk. He carried on imperturbably as a second man appeared behind him, craning over his shoulder to read the words as they were