Runway Zero-Eight Read online

  “714,” acknowledged Pete. “Thanks and out.”

  “Let’s go,” said the captain. The note of the engines took on a deeper intensity as the deck began to tilt and the altimeter needle on the winking instrument panel steadily registered a climb of five hundred feet a minute. The long window wiper swished rhythmically in a broad sweep from side to side.

  “Shan’t be sorry when we’re clear of this muck,” remarked the first officer. Dun didn’t answer, his eyes glued on the dials in front of him. Neither of the pilots heard the stewardess enter. She touched the captain on the shoulder.

  “Captain,” she said urgently, but keeping her voice well under control. “That woman. She’s worse already. And I have another passenger sick now — one of the men.”

  Dun did not turn to her. He stretched up an arm and switched on the landing lights. Ahead of them the sharp beams cut into driving rain and snow. He turned off the lights and began to adjust engine and de-icer switches.

  “I can’t come right now, Janet,” he replied as he worked. “You’d better do as we said and see if you can find a doctor. And make sure all the seat belts are fastened. This may get pretty rough. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Emerging from the flight deck, Janet called out in a voice just loud enough to carry to the rows of passengers, “Fasten your safety belts, please. It may be getting a little bumpy.” She leaned over the first two passengers to her right, blinking up at her half-asleep. “Excuse me,” she said casually, “but do either of you gentlemen happen to be a doctor?”

  The man nearest her shook his head. “Sorry, no,” he grunted. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, nothing serious.”

  An exclamation of pain snapped her to attention. She hurried along the aisle to where the sick Mrs. Childer lay half-cradled in her husband’s arms, moaning with eyes closed, and partially doubled over. Janet knelt down swiftly and wiped the glistening sweat from the woman’s brow. Childer stared at her, his face creased with anxiety.

  “What can we do, miss?” he asked her. “What d’you think it is?”

  “Keep her warm,” said Janet. “I’m going to see if there’s a doctor on board.”

  “A doctor? I just hope there is. What do we do if there isn’t?”

  “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back straight away.” Janet got to her feet, looked down briefly at the suffering woman, and moved on to the next seats, repeating her question in a low voice. “Is someone ill?” she was asked. “Just feeling unwell. It sometimes happens, flying. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  A hand clutched at her arm. It was one of the whisky quartet, his face yellow and shining.

  “Sorry, miss, to trouble you again. I’m feeling like hell. D’you think I could have a glass of water?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m on my way now to get it.”

  “I never felt like this before.” The man lay back and blew out his cheeks. One of his companions stirred opened his eyes and sat up. “What’s with you? he growled.”

  “It’s my insides,” said the sick man. “Feels like they’re coming apart.” His hands clenched his stomach as another spasm shook him.

  Janet shook Spencer gently by the shoulder. He opened one eye, then both. “I’m very sorry to wake you up, sir,” she said, “but is anyone here a doctor?”.

  Spencer gathered himself. “A doctor? No. I guess not, miss.” She nodded and made to move on.

  “Just a moment, though,” he stopped her. “I seem to remember — yes, of course he is. This gentleman beside me is a doctor.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” breathed the stewardess. “Would you wake him, please?”

  “Sure.” Spencer looked up at her as he nudged the recumbent form next to him. “Someone’s ill, huh?”

  “Feeling a little unwell,” said Janet.

  “Come on, Doc, wake up,” Spencer said heartily. The doctor shook his head, grunted, then snapped awake. “Seems that you’ve got your night call after all.”

  “Are you a doctor, sir?” asked Janet anxiously.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m Dr. Baird. Why, what’s wrong?”

  “We have two passengers who are quite sick. Would you take a look at them, please?”

  “Sick? Yes, certainly.”

  Spencer stood up to let the doctor out. “Where are they?” Baird asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “I think you’d better see the woman first, Doctor,” said Janet, leading the way and at the same time calling out quietly, “Fasten your seat belts, please,” as she passed along.

  Mrs. Childer was now as prostrate as the seat allowed. Shivers of pain racked her body. She breathed heavily, with long, shuddering gasps. Her hair was wet with sweat.

  Baird stood studying her for a moment. Then he knelt and took her wrist.

  “This gentleman is a doctor,” said Janet.

  “Am I glad to see you, Doctor,” Childer said fervently.

  The woman opened her eyes. “Doctor…” She made an effort to speak, her lips trembling.

  “Just relax,” said Baird, his eyes on his watch. He released her wrist, felt in his jacket and took out a pocket flashlight. “Open your eyes wide,” he ordered gently and examined each eye in turn in the bright pencil of light. “Now. Any pain?” The woman nodded. “Where? Here? Or here?” As he palpated her abdomen, she stiffened suddenly, choking back a cry of pain. He replaced the blanket, felt her forehead, then stood up. “Is this lady your wife?” he asked Childer.

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Has she complained of anything in addition to the pain?”

  “She’s been very sick, throwing up everything.”

  “When did it start?”

  “Not long, I guess.” Childer looked helplessly at Janet. “It’s all come on suddenly.”

  Baird nodded reflectively. He moved away, taking Janet by the arm and speaking very quietly so as not to be overheard by the nearby passengers who were staring up at them.

  “Have you given her anything?” he inquired.

  “Only aspirin and water,” replied Janet. “That reminds me. I promised a glass of water to the man who’s sick—”

  “Wait,” said Baird crisply. His sleepiness had vanished now. He was alert and authoritative. “Where did you learn your nursing?”

  Janet colored at his tone. “Why, at the airline training school, but—”

  “Never mind. But it’s not much use giving aspirin to anyone who is actually vomiting — you’ll make ’em worse. Strictly water only.”

  “I — I’m sorry, Doctor,” Janet stammered.

  “I think you’d better go to the captain,” said Baird. “Please tell him we should land at once. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital. Ask to have an ambulance waiting.”

  “Do you know what’s wrong?”

  “I can’t make a proper diagnosis here. But it’s serious enough to land at the nearest city with hospital facilities. You can tell the captain that.”

  “Very well, Doctor. While I’m gone, will you take a look at the other sick passenger? He’s complaining of the same sickness and pains.”

  Baird looked at her sharply. “The same pains, you say? Where is he?”

  Janet led him forward to where the sick man sat, bent over, retching, supported by his friend in the next seat. Baird crouched down to look at his face.

  “I’m a doctor. Will you put your head back, please?” As he made a quick examination, he asked, “What have you had to eat in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “Just the usual things,” muttered the man, all the strength appearing to have been drained from him. “Breakfast,” he said weakly, “bacon and eggs… salad for lunch… a sandwich at the airport… then dinner here.” A trickle of saliva ran disregarded down his chin. “It’s this pain, Doctor. And my eyes.”

  “What about your eyes?” asked Baird quickly.

  “Can’t seem to focus. I keep seeing double.”

  His companion seemed to find it amusing
. “That rye has got a real kick, yes sir,” he exclaimed.

  “Be quiet,” said Baird. He rose, to find Janet and the captain standing beside him. “Keep him warm — get more blankets round him,” he told Janet. The captain motioned him to follow down to the galley. Immediately they were alone, Baird demanded, “How quickly can we land, Captain?”

  “That’s the trouble,” said Dun briefly. “We can’t.”

  Baird stared at him. “Why?”

  “It’s the weather. I’ve just checked by radio. There’s low cloud and fog right over the prairies this side of the mountains. Calgary’s shut in completely. We’ll have to go through to the coast.”

  Baird thought for a moment. “What about turning back?” he asked.

  Dun shook his head, his face taut in the soft glow of the lights. “That’s out, too. Winnipeg closed down with fog shortly after we left. Anyway, it’ll be quicker now to go on.”

  Baird grimaced, tapping his finger nail with the tiny flashlight. “How soon do you expect to land?”

  “About five a.m., Pacific Time.” Dun saw the doctor glance involuntarily at his wrist watch, and added, “We’re due to land in three and a half hours from now. These charter aircraft aren’t the fastest in the world.”

  Baird made up his mind. “Then I’ll have to do what I can for these people until we arrive at Vancouver. I’ll need my bag. Do you think it can be reached? I checked it at Toronto.”

  “We can try,” said the captain. “I hope it’s near the top. Let me have your tags, Doctor.”

  Baird’s long fingers probed into his hip pocket and came out with his wallet. From this he took two baggage tickets and handed them to Dun.

  “There are two bags, Captain,” he said. “It’s the smaller one I want. There isn’t much equipment in it — just a few things I always carry around. But they’ll help.”

  He had barely finished speaking before the aircraft gave a violent lurch. It sent the two men sprawling to the far wall. There was a loud, persistent buzzing. The captain was on his feet first and sprang to the intercom telephone.

  “Captain here,” he rapped out. “What’s wrong, Pete?”

  The voice of the first officer was struggling and painful. “I’m… sick… come quickly.”

  “You’d better come with me,” said Dun to the doctor and they left the galley rapidly. “Sorry about the bump,” Dun remarked affably to the upturned faces as they walked along the aisle. “Just a little turbulence.”

  As they burst into the flight deck, it was only too apparent that the first officer was very sick; his face a mask of perspiration, he was slumped in his seat, clutching the control column with what was obviously all his strength.

  “Get him out of there,” directed the captain urgently. Baird and Janet, who had followed the men in, seized the copilot and lifted him out and away from the controls, while Dun slipped into his own seat and took the column in his hands.

  “There’s a seat at the back of the flight deck, for when we carry a radio operator,” he told them. “Put him there.”

  With an agonizing retch, Pete spewed on to the deck as they helped him to the vacant seat and propped him against the wall. Baird loosened the first officer’s collar and tie and tried to make him as comfortable as the conditions would allow. Every few seconds Pete would jackknife in another croaking, straining retch.

  “Doctor,” called the captain, his voice tense, “what is it? What’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Baird grimly. “But there’s a common denominator to these attacks. There has to be. The most likely thing is food. What was it we had for dinner?”

  “The main course was a choice of meat or fish,” said Janet. “You probably remember, Doctor — you had—”

  “Meat!” cut in Baird. “About — what? — two, three hours ago. What did he have?” He indicated the first officer.

  Janet’s face began to register alarm. “Fish,” she almost whispered.

  “Do you remember what the other two passengers had?”

  “No — I don’t think so—”

  “Go back quickly and find out, will you, please?”

  The stewardess hurried out, her face pale. Baird knelt beside the first officer who sat swaying with the motion of the aircraft, his eyes closed. “Try to relax,” he said quietly. “I’ll give you something in a few minutes that’ll help the pain. Here.” He reached up and pulled down a blanket from a rack. “You’ll feel better if you stay warm.”

  Pete opened his eyes a little and ran his tongue over dry lips. “Are you a doctor?” he asked. Baird nodded. Pete said with a sheepish attempt to smile, “I’m sorry about all this mess. I thought I was going to pass out.”

  “Don’t talk,” said Baird. “Try to rest.”

  “Tell the captain he’s sure right about my ham-handed—”

  “I said don’t talk. Rest and you’ll feel better.”

  Janet returned. “Doctor,” she spoke rapidly, hardly able to get the words out quickly enough. “I’ve checked both those passengers. They both had salmon. There are three others complaining of pains now. Can you come?”

  “Of course. But I’ll need that bag of mine.”

  Dun called over his shoulder, “Look, I can’t leave here now, Doctor, but I’ll see that you get it immediately. Janet, take these tags. Get one of the passengers to help you and dig out the smaller of the doctor’s two bags, will you?” Janet took the tags from him and turned to the doctor to speak again, but Dun continued, “I’m going to radio Vancouver and report what’s happening. Is there anything you want me to add?”

  “Yes,” said Baird. “Say we have three serious cases of suspected food poisoning and that there seem to be others developing. You can say we’re not sure but we suspect that the poisoning could have been caused by fish served on board. Better ask them to put a ban on all food originating from the same source as ours — at least until we’ve established the cause of the poisoning for certain.”

  “I remember now,” exclaimed Dun. “That food didn’t come from the caterers who usually supply the airlines. Our people had to get it from some other outfit because we were so late getting into Winnipeg.”

  “Tell them that, Captain,” said Baird. “That’s what they’ll need to know.”

  “Doctor, please,” Janet implored him. “I do wish you’d come and see Mrs. Childer. She seems to have collapsed altogether.”

  Baird stepped to the door. The lines in his face had deepened, but his eyes as he held Janet’s with them were steady as a rock.

  “See that the passengers are not alarmed,” he instructed. “We shall be depending on you a great deal. Now if you’ll be good enough to find my bag and bring it to me, I’ll be attending to Mrs. Childer.” He pushed back the door for her, then stopped her as something occurred to him. “By the way, what did you eat for dinner?”

  “I had meat,” the young stewardess answered him.

  “Thank heavens for that, then.” Janet smiled and made to go on again, but he gripped her suddenly, very hard, by the arm. “I suppose the captain had meat, too?” He shot the question at her.

  She looked up at him, as if at the same time trying both to remember and to grasp the implications of what he had asked.

  Then, suddenly, shock and realization flooded into her. She almost fell against him, her eyes dilated with an immense and overpowering fear.

  THREE

  0745—0220

  BRUNO BAIRD regarded the stewardess thoughtfully. Behind the calm reassurance of his blue-gray eyes his mind rapidly assessed the situation, weighing with the habit of years one possibility against another. He released the girl’s arm.

  “Well, we won’t jump to conclusions,” he said, almost to himself. Then, more briskly, “You find my bag — just as quickly as you can. Before I see Mrs. Childer I’ll have another word with the captain.”

  He retraced his steps forward. They were now in level flight above the turbulence. Over the pilot’s shoulder he could see the cold w
hite brilliance of the moon, converting the solid carpet of cloud below them into a seemingly limitless landscape of snow with here and there what looked for all the world like a pinnacle of ice thrusting its craggy outcrop through the surrounding billows. The effect was dreamlike.

  “Captain,” he said, leaning over the empty copilot’s seat. Dun looked round, his face drawn and colorless in the moon glare. “Captain, this has to be fast. There are people very sick back there and they need attention.”

  Dun nodded quickly. “Yes, Doctor. What is it?”

  “I presume you ate after the other officer did?”

  “Yes, that’s so.”

  “How long after?”

  Dun’s eyes narrowed. “About half an hour, I’d say. Maybe a little more, but not much.” The point of the doctor’s question suddenly hit him. He sat upright with a jerk and slapped the top of the control column with the flat of his hand. “Holy smoke, that’s right. I had fish too.”

  “D’you feel all right?”

  The captain nodded. “Yes. Yes, I feel okay.”

  “Good.” Relief showed in Baird’s voice. “As soon as I’ve got my bag I’ll give you an emetic.”

  “Will that get rid of it?”

  “Depends. You can’t have digested it all yet. Anyway, it doesn’t follow that everyone who ate fish will be affected — logic doesn’t enter into these things. You could be the one to avoid trouble.”

  “I’d better be,” muttered Dun, staring now into the moonglow ahead.

  “Now listen,” said Baird. “Is there any way of locking the controls of this airplane?”

  “Why yes,” said Dun. “There’s the automatic pilot. But that wouldn’t get us down—”

  “I suggest you switch it on, or whatever you do, just in case. If you do happen to feel ill, yell for me immediately. I don’t know that I can do much, but if you do get any symptoms they’ll come on fast.”

  The knuckles of Dun’s hands gleamed white as he gripped the control column. “Okay,” he said quietly. “What about Miss Benson, the stewardess?”

  “She’s all right. She had meat.”

  “Well, that’s something. Look, for heaven’s sake hurry with that emetic. I can’t take any chances, flying this ship.”