Airport / Аэропорт. Артур Хейли

attractive, English-born brunette, Gwen Meighen. She was a farmer’s daughter who had left home to come to the United States ten years earlier at the age of eighteen. Before joining Trans America she was briefly a fashion model in Chicago. Perhaps because of her varied background, she combined an unreserved sexuality in bed with elegance and style when out of it.

      It was to Gwen Meighen’s apartment that Vernon Demerest was headed now.

      Later tonight, the two of them would leave for Rome on Trans America Flight Two. On the flight deck, Captain Demerest would command. In the passenger cabins, Gwen Meighen would be senior stewardess. At the Rome end of the journey, there would be a three-day layover[50] for the crew, while another crew – already in Italy for its own layover – would fly the airplane back to Lincoln International.

      The word “layover” had long ago been adopted officially by airlines and was used unemotionally. Possibly, whoever introduced the term had a sense of humor; in any case, flying crews frequently gave it a practical application as well as its official one. Demerest and Gwen Meighen were planning a personal definition now. On arrival in Rome, they would leave immediately for Naples for a forty-eight-hour “layover” together. It was an idyllic prospect, and Vernon Demerest smiled at the thought of it. He was nearing Stewardess Row, and as he reminded himself of how well other things had gone this evening, his smile broadened.

      He had arrived at the airport early, after leaving Sarah, his wife, who – placidly as usual – had wished him a pleasant trip.

      Sarah Demerest was placid and dull. These were qualities her husband had come to accept and, in a strange way, valued. Between flying trips and afaf irs with more interesting women, he thought of his sojourns at home, and sometimes spoke of them, as “going into the hangar for a stand down.” His marriage had another convenience. While it existed, the women he made love to could become as emotional and demanding as they liked, but he could never be expected to meet the ultimate demand of matrimony. In this way, he had a permanent protection against his own rushed action in the heat of passion. He was sure that Sarah suspected his philandering. But, characteristically, she would prefer not to know, an arrangement in which Vernon Demerest was happy to cooperate.

      Another thing which had pleased him this evening was the Airlines Snow Committee report in which he had delivered a verbal kick in the crotch[51], aimed at his stuffed-shirt[52] brother-in-law, Mel Bakersfeld.

      The critical report had been solely Demerest’s idea. The other two airline representatives on the committee had at first taken the view that the airport management was doing its best under exceptional conditions. Captain Demerest argued otherwise. The others had finally gone along with him and agreed that Demerest would personally write the report, which he made as wounding as he could.

      A revenge, Vernon Demerest thought pleasurably – small but satisfying – had been exacted. Now, perhaps, his limping, quarter-cripple brother-in-law would think twice before antagonizing Captain Demerest and the Air Line Pilots Association, as Mel Bakersfeld had presumed to do – in public – two weeks ago.

      Captain Demerest swung the Mercedes into an apartment building parking lot. He stopped the car smoothly and got out. He was a little early, he noticed – a quarter of an hour before the time he had said he would collect Gwen and drive her to the airport. He decided to go up, anyway.

      As he entered the building, using the passkey Gwen had given him, he hummed softly to himself, then smiled, realizing the tune was O Sole Mio[53]. Well, why not? It was appropriate. Naples… a warm night instead of snow, the view above the bay in starlight, soft music from mandolins, Chianti with dinner, and Gwen Meighen beside him…. all were less than twenty-four hours away. Yes, indeed! – O Sole Mio. He continued humming it.

      In the elevator going up, he remembered another good thing. The flight to Rome would be an easy one.

      Tonight, though Captain Demerest was in command of Flight Two – The Golden Argosy – he would do little of the work which the flight entailed. The reason was that he was flying as a line check captain. Another four-striper captain[54] – Anson Harris, almost as senior as Demerest himself – had been assigned to the flight and would occupy the command pilot’s left seat. Demerest would use the right seat – normally the first officer’s position[55] – from where he would observe and report on Captain Harris’s performance.

      The check flight arrangement had come up because Captain Harris had been elected to transfer from Trans America domestic operations to international. However, before that, he was required to make two flights over an overseas route with a regular line captain who also held instructor’s qualifications. Vernon Demerest did.

      After Captain Harris’s two flights, of which tonight’s would be the second, he would be given a final check by a senior supervisory captain before being accepted for international command.

      Such checks – as well as regular six-monthly check flights, which all pilots of all airlines were required to undergo – entailed an aerial scrutiny of ability and flying habits.

      Despite the fact that captains checked each other, the tests, both regular and special, were usually very serious. The pilots wanted them that way. Too much was at stake[56] – public safety and high professional standards – for weaknesses to be overlooked.

      Yet, while performance standards were not relaxed, senior captains undergoing flight checks were treated by their colleagues with particular courtesy. Except by Vernon Demerest.

      Demerest treated any pilot he was assigned to test, junior or senior to himself, in precisely the same way – like a naughty schoolboy summoned to the headmaster’s presence. Moreover, in the headmaster’s role, Demerest was arrogant and tough. He made no secret of his conviction that no one else’s ability as a pilot was superior to his own. Colleagues who received this treatment raged silently, but had no choice but to sit and take it. Subsequently they vowed to one another that when Demerest’s own time came they would give him the toughest check ride he had ever had. They invariably did, with a single consistent result – Vernon Demerest gave a flawless performance which could not be faulted.

      “Yes, it would be an easy flight tonight – for me,” Vernon Demerest smiled to himself again.

      His thoughts returned to the present as the apartment block elevator stopped at the third floor. He stepped into the carpeted corridor and headed for the apartment which Gwen Meighen shared with a stewardess of United Air Lines. The other girl was away on an overnight flight. On the apartment door bell he tapped out their usual signal, his initials in Morse[57]… dit-dit-dit-dah dah-dit-dit… then went in, using the same key which opened the door below.

      Gwen was in the shower. He could hear the water running. When he went to her bedroom door, she called out, “Vernon, is that you?” Even competing with the shower, her voice – with its flawless English accent, which he liked so much – sounded soft and exciting. He thought: “Small wonder Gwen had so much success with passengers.”

      He called back, “Yes, honey.”

      “I’m glad you came early,” she called again. “I want to have a talk before we leave.”

      “Sure, we’ve time.”

      “You can make tea, if you like.”

      “Okay.”

      She

50

«привал»

51

удар ниже пояса

52

(разг.) напыщенное ничтожество

53

«Моё солнце» – неаполитанская песня

54

капитан первого ранга (с четырьмя золотыми нашивками на рукаве)

55

место второго пилота

56

поставлено на карту

57

азбукой Морзе