The Trojan Sea by Richard Herman Read Free Book Online Page B

locked properly.” The light flickered again, and he considered recycling the gear. Then the light went out, indicating all was well.
    He keyed the radio. “Tower, I had an ‘unsafe gear’ light, but all appears well now. Would appreciate a visual.”
    “You’re cleared for a low approach and overshoot,” the tower answered. “The circuit is reserved for you to maneuver at your discretion.”
    “Cleared for the approach,” Seagrave replied. He turned final and lined up on the runway as they descended. He slowed to 240 knots and kept the gear and flaps retracted. Ahead of them he could see the runway, still packed with protesters at the halfway point. “What are those fools doing?” he muttered. He flew past the tower at fifty feet and pulled up, again accelerating.
    “I have no idea,” Liz said. “But you did get their attention, and a few are leaving.”
    “Your gear doors appear to be fully closed,” the tower radioed. “Your underside scans clean.”
    “Very good,” Seagrave replied. “What are those bloody fools doing down there?”
    “Security reports demonstrators are sitting down on the runway and refuse to move. We’ve called for help.”
    Seagrave hid his irritation as they did two turns in the circuit, holding at four thousand feet. Liz studied the crowd on the runway each time they flew past, her exasperation growing at the lack of progress. She reached over and touched his arm, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe we could do a high-speed pass to encourage a few others to leave, yes?” She tried to look innocent and helpful.
    He caught the look in her eyes. She may have been with the CAA, but her head was screwed on straight. “A very good idea,” he said. “And we are cleared to maneuver at our discretion.” He keyed the radio. “Tower, this time around will be a high-speed pass.”
    “Roger,” the tower answered. “Stay above two hundred feet and no faster than six hundred knots.”
    Seagrave flew a curvilinear approach to final and leveled off at four-hundred feet. “I don’t believe they’ve seen us yet. But they soon will.” He inched the Lightning down to two hundred feet and stroked the afterburners, the airspeed bouncing off six hundred knots. He passed over the demonstrators and rotated. “Full reheat now,” he said, shoving the throttles into max afterburner.
    Liz twisted her head, looking back and fighting the G’s as she gave the demonstrators the finger. “Bastards!” she shouted. “That singed the odd hair or two.”
    Seagrave allowed a tight smile. His passenger was a fighter pilot at heart. He leveled off at eight thousand feet and flew a wide downwind, rapidly descending back to four thousand feet. He automatically scanned the instrument panel once again. “Not good,” he muttered. “We’re losing hydraulic pressure.” He pointed to the Services Pressure Gauge. “It should be steady at three thousand PSI.” The needle was slowly dropping, falling toward the red sector.
    “Is that bad?” Liz asked.
    “It will be if we don’t get down.” He keyed the radio. “Cranthorpe, we have a problem. I’m losing hydraulic pressure and need to land immediately.”
    “Stand by,” the tower answered.
    “I can’t stand by too long,” Seagrave replied. “Request vectors to the nearest suitable field for landing.”
    A much-relieved tower controller answered, “The runway is open. You’re cleared all the way. Check three greens.”
    Seagrave lowered the undercarriage. Two lights blinked green at him. But the left main gear stayed red. “Tower, I have an unsafe condition on my left main. Request a flyby to check undercarriage down.” He selected flaps, hoping there was enough pressure in the system to lower them. There was.
    “Cleared for a low approach,” the tower answered. This time Seagrave flew by at 175 knots, as slow as possible. He gently yawed the aircraft to help gravity pull the gear down. “Your left main is still up,” the tower