"Let me assure you that on the ground everything necessary is being done to help us." Remembering their need for runway three zero, Demerest hoped it was true. He also decided there was no point in going into detail about the problem of the jammed stabilizer; most passengers wouldn't understand it anyway. With a touch of lightness in his voice, he added, "In one way you're lucky tonight because instead of one experienced captain on the flight deck, it just so happens you have two---Captain Harris and myself. We're a couple of ancient pelicans with more years of flying than we sometimes like to think about---except right now when all that combined experience comes in mighty useful. We'll be helping each other, along with Second Officer Jordan. who'll also be spending part of his time back with you. Please help us too. If you do, I promise you we'll come through this together---safely."
Demerest replaced the p.a. mike.
Without taking his eyes from the flight instruments, Anson Harris remarked, "That was pretty good. You should be in politics."
Demerest said sourly, "Nobody'd vote for me. Most times, people don't like plain talking and the truth." He was remembering bitterly the Board of Airport Commissioners meeting at Lincoln International where he urged curtailment of airport insurance vending. Plain speech there had proved disastrous. He wondered how the members of the Board, including his smooth, smug brother-in-law, would feet after learning about D. 0. Guerrero's purchase of insurance and his maniacal intention to destroy Flight Two. Probably, Demerest thought, they would be complacent as ever, except that now instead of saying It will never happen, they would say, Well, assuming Flight Two made it back safely, and whatever was said or wasn't, sure as hell he was going to create another big fight about airport insurance vending. The difference was: this time more people would listen. Tonight's near disaster, however it turned out, was certain to attract a lot of press attention; he would make the most of it. He would talk bluntly to reporters about flight insurance, about the Lincoln airport commissioners, and not least about his precious brother-in-law, Mel Bakersfeld. Trans America's public relations flacks would do their damnedest, of course, to keep him incommunicado "in the interests of company policy." Just let them try!
The radio crackled alive. "Trans America Two, this is Cleveland Center. Lincoln advises runway three zero still temporarily out of use. They are attempting to clear obstruction before you arrive. Failing that, will land you on two five."
Harris's face went grim as Demerest acknowledged. Runway two five was two thousand feet shorter, as well as narrower, and at the moment with a bad crosswind. Using it would compound the hazards they already faced.
Demerest's expression clearly reflected his reaction to the message.
They were still being thrown about severely by the storm. Most of Harris's time was occupied by holding the aircraft reasonably steady.
Demerest swung around to the second officer. "Cy, go back with the passengers again, and take charge. See that the girls demonstrate the landing drill, and that everybody understands it. Then pick some key people who look reliable. Make sure they know where emergency exits are and how to use them. If we run out of runway, which'll be for sure if we use two five, everything may come apart in a hurry. If that happens we'll all try to make it back there and help, but there may not be time."
"Yes, sir." Once more, Jordan eased out of his flight engineer's seat.
Demerest, still anxious for news of Gwen, would have preferred to go himself, but at this stage neither he nor Harris could leave the flight deck.
As Cy Jordan left, Dr. Compagno arrived. It was now easier to move into and from the flight deck, since Jordan had moved the smashed entrance door to one side.
Milton Compagno introduced himself briskly to Vernon Demerest. "Captain, I have the report of injuries you asked for."
"We're grateful to you, Doctor. If you hadn't been here..."
Compagno waved a hand in dismissal. "Let's do all that later." He opened a leather-covered notebook where a slim gold pencil marked a page. It was characteristic that he had already obtained names, and recorded injuries and treatment. "Your stewardess, Miss Meighen, is the most badly hurt. She has multiple lacerations of the face and chest, with considerable bleeding. There is a compound fracture of the left arm and, of course, shock. Also, please notify whoever is making arrangements on