Airframe

"Thank you," she said. 'Today I need you to go to Trans-Pacific's main office."

'Transpacific? Isn't that at the airport?'

"Actually, I think they're in downtown LA. Norma will get you the address. I need you to pick up back issues of their inflight magazine. As far back as they go. At least a year."

"Gee," Richman said. "Couldn't we have a messenger do that?"

"This is urgent," Casey said.

"But I'll miss the IRT."

"You're not needed at the IRT. And I want these magazines as soon as possible."

"In-flight magazines? What are they for?" he said.

"Bob," she said. "Just get them."

He gave a crooked smile. "You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?"

"Pick up the magazines, get them to Norma, and call me."

WAR ROOM

7:30 a.m.

John Marder was late. He came striding into the room with an irritable, distracted look, and dropped into a seat. "All right," he said. "Let's have it Where are we on Flight 545? Flight recorder?"

"Nothing yet," Casey said.

"We need that data-make it happen, Casey. Structure?'

"Well it's very difficult very difficult indeed," Doherty said, dolefully. "I still worry about that bad locking pin. I think we ought to be more cautious-"

"Doug," Marder said. "I already told you. We'll check it at Flight Test. Now what about hydraulics?"

"Hydraulics are fine."

"Cable rigging?"

"Fine. Of course we're at ambient. Have to cold soak to be sure."

"Okay. We'll do that at Right Test. Electrical?"

Ron said, "We've scheduled the Cycle Electrical Test begi

"Any suspicions now?"

"Just those proximity sensors, in the right wing."

"Have we functioned them?"

"Yes, and they appear normal. Of course, to really check them we'd have to remove the sensors from the housings, take them out of the wing, and that means-"

"Delaying everything," Marder said. "Forget it. Powerplant?"

"Zip," Ke

"Okay. Powerplant is eliminated. Avionics?"

Trung said, "Avionics check out within normal limits."

"What about the autopilot? The pilot fighting to override?"

"Autopilot is fine."

"I see." Marder looked around the room. "So we have nothing, is that right? Seventy-two hours into this investigation and we have no damned idea what happened to Flight 545? Is that what you're telling me?"

There was silence around the table.

"Christ," Marder said, disgusted. He pounded the table. "Don't you people understand? I want this fucking thing solved?'

SEPULVEDA BLVD

10:10 a.m.

Fred Barker was solving all her problems.

To start, Je

Next she needed an at-work shot, again for voice-over ("Since leaving the FAA, Barker has worked tirelessly to bring defective aircraft designs to the public's attention- particularly the design of the Norton N-22"). Barker suggested a corner of his office, where he placed himself in front of a bookshelf of thick FAA documents, at a desk heaped nigh with technical-looking pamphlets, which he thumbed through for camera.

Next she needed his basic spiel, in the kind of detail that Reardon wouldn't have time to bother with during the interview. Barker was ready for this, too. He knew where the switches were for the air-conditioning, the refrigerator, the telephones, and all the other noise sources they'd need to turn off for filming. Barker also had a video monitor ready, to replay the CNN tape from Flight 545 while he commented on it. The monitor was a studio-grade Trinitron, placed in a dark corner of the room, so they could get an image off it. There was a V-plug so they could take the feed directly, to sync his audio comments. And Barker was ru

Barker was good on camera, too. He appeared relaxed. He didn't use jargon; his answers were short. He seemed to understand how she would cut the tape together, so he didn't lock her into anything. For example, he didn't reach for the model airplane in the middle of an answer. Instead, he gave his answer, then said, "At this point, I'd like to refer to the model." When she agreed, he repeated the previous answer, picking up the model at the same time. Everything he did was smooth, with no fumbling or awkwardness.

Of course Barker was experienced, not only on television but in the courtroom. The only problem was that he didn't give her strong emotion-no shock, no outrage. On the contrary, his tone, his ma

"There have been eight previous problems with slats on the airplane," he said. He held the model up, near his face, turned it so that it didn't gleam in the crew lights. "These are the slats," he said, pulling out a sliding panel from the front of the wing. He took his hand away, and said, "You get that in close-up?"

"I was late," the cameraman said "Could you do it again?'

"Sure. Are you starting wide?"

'Two Ts," the cameraman said.

Barker nodded. He paused, then began again. "There have been eight previous problems with slats on this airplane." Again he held the model up, this time already correctly turned so it didn't reflect in the light. "These are the slats," he said, and pulled out the panel in front of the wing. Then he paused again.

"Got it that time," the cameraman said.

Barker continued. "The slats are only deployed for takeoff and landing. During flight, they are tucked back in the wing. But on the Norton N-22, the slats have been known to extend by themselves during flight. It's a design error." Another pause. "I'm going to demonstrate what happens now, so you may want to be wide enough to see the whole plane."

"Widening," the cameraman said.

Barker waited patiently for a moment, then said, "The consequence of this design error is that when the slats extend, the airplane noses upward, like this, threatening to stall." He tilted the model up slightly. "At this point, it is almost impossible to control. If the pilot tries to restore the plane to level flight, the plane overcompensates, and goes into a dive. Again, the pilot corrects, to come out of the dive. The plane climbs. Then dives. Then climbs again. That is what happened to Flight 545. That is why people died."

Barker paused.

"Now we're through with the model," he said. "So I'm going to put it down."

"Okay," Je