HORROR PLANE: A new novel by Yaphet Kotto

CAULDWELL.BISSELL PUBLISHING

145 South Glenoaks Blvd. Suite 401

Burbank, California USA, 91502
Phone: 011-63-9477-445-962

Jill Bronson

Media Manager

Phone: 011-63-9477-445-962

HORROR PLANE

A new novel by Yaphet Kotto

CHAPTER ONE

A broad belt of mountains running down from the north western states, stretching somewhere over a low range of the rocky mountains in the mid-west, with erosion by glaciers having sculpted the Rockies into dramatic peaks and valleys,  she reaches from the Liard River in British Columbia south to the Rio Grande in New Mexico.

Currently, much of the mountain range is protected by public parks and forest lands, but it continues to be an extremely popular tourist destination, especially for those who love to go hiking, camping, mountaineering, fishing, hunting, mountain biking, skiing, and snowboarding. The outdoor enthusiasts barely notice, the government, private airfield, located on a faraway, almost hidden away and out of sight stretch of land, near the eastern edge of the Rockies. A $23.7 million, state-of-the-art airport traffic control tower at Rocky Mountain Springs. Only the air traffic control tower rises dramatically above the Interior Plains of central North America giving sight to everywhere in all directions as if watching the tourists..

The control tower is like a guardian, perhaps even a sentinel. It stands at a height of 285 feet (87 metres) offering better unobstructed 360 degrees view of the airfield for its controllers.. The new tower provides air traffic controllers with better airfield views, the latest radar and communications technology, ensuring they will continue to provide the safest, most efficient service to flights in and out of Colorado Springs.

It is a 6,000-square-foot, single-story base building housing training quarters, administrative offices and equipment rooms. The corridors are long and lonely, the radar room is circular, seemingly always dimly lit, loaded with radar monitors, all of them scoping data blocks, all of them facing seven controllers in seven console chairs, always looking, listening, watching…

Always…

on guard....

on alert for something…something that’s coming…

The new facility includes a 124-foot-tall air traffic control tower topped by a 525-square-foot tower cab, which features seven air traffic controller positions and one supervisor position.

Arron Jacobs stepped out of the elevator at exactly 8:55 Monday morning. The Senior-Supervisor of Mountain Springs Control Center walked through the hallways, saying the obligatory hello to everyone he passed. His control specialist, Maggie O’Hanlon already had a steaming cup of coffee and her flight report laid out on the supervisor’s console desk.

After opening his closet, he casually glanced over at his desk. The day before, Thursday evening, he was in this exact same spot, and he had come to work hoping that the problem had been resolved by the night crew.

Arron reflected on his behavior and the events of yesterday afternoon. Things had become a little rough, tempers flared but he had maintained his calm composure. He couldn't put a finger on what he had done different, controllers were supposed to be above the everyday man, but he had this gut feeling that something was going to push him over the line.

“Oh no, I thought it’d be gone by now," he said, talking as if to himself as he looked at the computer screen on his desk The computer screen was  flickering, revealing readouts and digital displays of an aircraft’s position. Maggie saw his expression and tried to ease his consternation as he sighed deeply and folded his arms across his chest.

"I know how you feel. It was all I could do to drag myself out of the house this morning, especially after the news…"

"Please. Let me have at least one sip of coffee before you tell me anymore," Arron pleaded with his crew chief.

"Okay. Why don’t I wait until you've had your sip, then come back."

"No, that's alright Maggie. Just let me take this slow?" Arron asked.

"I only wanted to let you know that I scheduled a news conference with the press

toward the end of the day. It’d be nice to have something positive to report but who knows by the time you talk to them the problem might have resolved itself.’ While she was talking, Maggie idly walked around the supervisor’s office, looking at all of Arron’s diplomas and certificates hanging on the walls.

Arron was too busy and stunned flipping through the pictures to pay any attention to what Maggie was talking about or doing. All the photos were of the plane that had come from South Korea, had somehow appeared in Colorado air space and could not be contacted or controlled, and was spotted at various locals and altitudes around the state... There would be no doubt in anyone's mind who saw these photos that some kind of supernatural anomaly was taking place.

“Today, you only have a 1:30 meeting with Mr. Carter who is acting chairman of air transportation I've already reserved the conference room. He'll be here to instruct you what to do and say about the Korean flight transcripts between pilots and controllers. Don't worry about a time limit, the chairman, his staff and yourself are the only ones on the list for the room all day. Other than his directives, you're free to say just what you know about the plane’s disappearance."

While stepping from behind his large desk, Arron trembled slightly when Maggie mentioned the words 'chairman of Air Transportation'.

 Thanks," Arron said and picked up his coffee. “Let’s join the team.”

****

"Maybe we should just shoot the damn thing down!" someone said just as supervisor Jacobs had just entered the room with the crew chief, Maggie O’Hanlon.

The small circle of controllers in the circular control tower suddenly fell silent as everyone looked back at their radar screens and desk jammed with instrumentation.  There were large towering windows, looking in every direction and above head level, the room is ringed by view screens, all blank for the moment. There are seats for ten controllers.  Each chair faces a console and is surrounded by a dazzling array of technology.

The controllers were more than a little ashamed, they were also embarrassed. Their jobs were to save lives not plan to’ shoot it down’ O’Hanlon, smirked knowingly at their summarization of the situation. Typical. Men always seem to think that violence was the only resolution to a difficult problems. Supervisor Jacobs was about to pick up a pair of binoculars as a controller made a tentative effort to change the topic. He suddenly paused and looked at information appearing on a computer screen nearby

The subject of the information - and hence Jacobs's total attention - had been the control tower's latest aircraft, Korean Airline 963.

‘Control. Mountain Springs Colo. 34899. Federal Traffic Control, Supervisor Arron Jacobs. EYES ONLY.

INTEL. CODE RED. ORACLE SECURITY MISSION, COMMERCIAL AIRCRAFT ORDER, SOUTH EAST KOREAN DC-10-963- THIRTY FIVE KOREAN PASSSENGERS. DETAIN AND SECURE. REPEAT. DETAIN AND SECURE.

Arron switches off his screen and holding his binoculars moves to the rear and behind his controllers.

“Coordinator do you have a view on south east 963?”

“Roger that,” The coordinator answers quickly.

“Control what about your view on south east 963.”

The controller presses a bank of switches. Radar screens glimmer into life, on the scopes, data blocks are under the radar sweep.

“Yes. We have him. Affirmative. We’ve had him for the last few days.” He says with a tone of sarcasm.

“Careful.” Crew chief, O’Hanlon warns.

“Does South East Air appear to be in descent for approach?” Arron asks firmly

“Negative. Traffic appears to be progressing South East and maintaining. No altitude change. No landing request.” The coordinator answered, Arron.

“Have you tried contacting south east 963.”

“Affirmative.”

“Response?”

“Negative.”

This firm response was met with a round of absolute silence, as the members of the group shifted uncomfortably, waiting for Arron’s next call. Maggie looked down at her console, waiting for the inevitable. Arron seemed like a nice man and she liked him a lot, but it was undeniable that he wasn't working out at as a supervisor. For the last few days that Korean commercial airliner has been buzzing their tower and Arron hadn’t called it in. The Air Force should have been on top of this many days ago. She didn't necessarily like Arron all that much, but he did hold a position of power in the government; given Air Traffic controllers precarious position with President Regan these days it would be foolish to take the others side against anything Arron might have to say.

“Let’s call high, maybe someone can give us a visual on who we’re dealing with.” He says to his interphone man, who throws on his transmitter.

“United 78 this is Rocky Mountain Springs Centre, we’ve got a primary target at your three o’clock... Let me have aircraft type. Come back.”

Static.

Arron looked as though he were about to start cursing at any moment. The others in the group stared down at their radar consoles, out at the sky, across the airfield... anywhere other than at the face of their supervisor reacting to a situation that was crucifying his reputation in front of them. Maggie felt terrible about it, but nonetheless suddenly found the data blocks on her screen extremely fascinating.

“Nothing.” The controller said to Arron.

“Try again.” Arron ordered ordered.

“United 78 this is Rocky Mountain Springs Centre, we’ve got a primary target at your three o’clock... Let me have aircraft type. Come back.”

“Roger centre. This is United 78, report level flight for DC-10 South East Korean 963. Primary is descending to four o’clock now below me. We’re going to go a little high to our two o’clock position and keep some distance...”

“Affirmative.”

“How does traffic manage to stay in the air these last few days without refuelling?” Arron says as he looks toward the sky.

“Say again, centre? TWA 515. Northwest responding”

To say that this had all come as a surprise to Arron Jacob would be something of an understatement. Earlier in the week, Sandra Braddock had come to him with a stack of radar printouts, a flight report and an incredible story. An unbelievable story.

The printouts spoke for themselves. They had demonstrated a history of systematic deviation with the filed flight plan of South Korean Airline 963 predetermined routes of the aircraft’s approved airways. According to the modifications, a high percentage of  aircraft optimal flight plan filings to avoid overloading, prevented  air traffic control from refusing permission for some of the flight plans or delay the allocated take-off slots. To avoid this a suboptimal flight plan  was always filed for South East Korean 963, asking for an inefficiently low altitude or a longer less congested route  These filings were always granted but would never appear on the general flight report, instead they were rerouted to secured documents.

The secrecy of the files had demonstrated the reason behind the alterations. For someone with Sandra's education and intelligence, the story had been simple: someone was concealing the flight history of South East Korean 963.

At first, Arron almost thought that Sandra was getting ready to play the race card  by accusing him of making the alterations. His position at the control tower was very precarious; everyone knew that he was to be "Evaluated" after his one year contract was up, and apparently Sandra Braddock - the whore! - had spread the word that no one was to take his UFO reports seriously until he had passed a psych examination and was cleared. Until then  he was not to receive any assignments much more difficult than bringing her a cup of coffee in the mornings.

Arron had thus been surprised when, over the last few weeks Sandra had been sending, let’s be ‘huggin’ cousins’ overtures at work, but he knew the reason the more than senior security chief for the airbase was flashing her long, slightly overweight frame in his direction. It was because her brain that was topped by beautiful thick blond hair had received information that one of the pilots of South Korean 963 was a close friend of supervisor Arron Jacob.

This rang an entirely new alarm bell in their relationship because not only was Arron a friend of Captain Yoho Masumarji, Chinese flying officer for South East Airlines. He knew that his close friend retired General Russ Fine senior partner and President of Rocky Mountain Springs industries considered the plump blonde with the 36C breasts that were starting to show a little bit of droop, was his personal private property and if he ever found out that the love of his life was rendezvousing with Captain Yoho Masumarji at the exclusive Sportsman’s Lodge Hotel in downtown Denver on a rather regular basis there would be hell to pay.  

Whenever Sandra saw Arron around the base she was now so certain that Jacob had no future in the Rocky Mountain control tower it no longer mattered what he did or where he went. She no longer found it necessary to say hello, goodbye or dog kiss my foot. She just made a point to ignore the black bastard whenever she got the chance... and, she went out of her way to make things as difficult as possible for the airfield’s control supervisor. She did nothing too overt, of course, but instead worked behind the scenes to undermine what little authority the Negro had, to and make it more difficult for the black man to function. Attacking those UFO reports he was constantly filing made her feel her efforts would one day pay off.

That was why he found it difficult to believe his eyes when Sandra walked into his tower and told him that she was attempting to help him; she had damn good reason to make such a change of heart. It wasn’t public knowledge yet but a 110 year old Republican man, with even older policies and values, was still in charge of the privately owned and operated international airport, a place where a Negro’s chances for advancement were very limited. But, two days ago, Sandra was astonished to learn and absolutely flabbergasted to hear from her husband, an over worked company accountant that the Board of Directors of Rocky Mountain Springs Industries was about to appoint a nigger, President of the International airport and industries replacing General Russ Fine. He would be the first black ever to reach such a high position in the corporation and, at only 52, he was also the youngest president in the history of the firm. Things were slowly changing after all this time, but once that spook got Russ Fine's position, Sandra's ass was history.

Sandra's story... well, that was something else altogether. No matter how much Russ Fine despised the Chinese Aviator, he found it difficult to believe that Russ would get so desperate that he’d turn to violence to revenge himself on Yoho for stealing his woman….but... what was he doing navigating a plane Yoho Masumarji was co-piloting? , "Arron.... he checks my underwear every evening when I come home work, looks at the mileage on my car soon as I pull into the garage...He makes me tekk people I’m MRS. FINE.... Arron.. I am afraid that he will try and do something to Yoho........."

Suddenly Arron was animated and alert.

“Alert Buckley air base immediately. I want the 120th fighter squadron up there. I have a detain and secure order on Korean South East 963... Break.” Arron ordered

“Roger TWA 515, proceed to south west perimeter five miles.” The coordinator says

“Uh, roger, descending and maintaining level 275 South East bound…hold the phone….he’s dropping his wheels…stand by…his landing lights have just come on.. Korean South East traffic has turned and is heading for tower, were leaving  glide path to new altitude.? The pilot says calmly..

“Roger, TWA 515, ascend and maintain flight level south west perimeter…break.. Alaska 375 DC-10.. turn out 25 degrees left right now.. United Airlines hold on runway 33 you are not cleared for take off…traffic approaching from South East and headed for control.” Arron stands staring at the activity on the field…trucks, emergency vehicles driving away from the control tower.

An emergency klaxon went on and began to pulse. Arron just stared, well beyond the point of panicking or protesting. He was well aware of the fact that employees were vacating the building, taking the elevators, dashing down the steps from the emergency exits his career with the company had gotten off to a rough start, but he was working hard to improve. Up to now, he had thought that his crew of controllers had been a team of his enemies…but as the moments went by and none of them were moving to save their lives by running from the control room, he began to realize he was wrong about how they felt about him.

"Traffic coming in straight and strong," the coordinator told him “ETA fifteen minutes and counting. Anybody going to leave their post now is the time to do it...”

The blonde, Sandra Braddock paused a moment, looking sideways at her co-workers. Trying to joke. "I understand your commitment there are openings coming up in ground control," she said.

"Yeah. GCA is always on the lookout for one or two blonde bimbos with knee pads to blow rubber tubes and do... 'Body work."

The klaxon wailing was too much for Sandra. Choking back a sob, she turned and dashed away, practically running in hasty retreat to the door. Arron sneered as her as the coward fled.

"Bimbo," he muttered.

“This is TWA 515, we’re low stack on the outer perimeter and safe from traffic headed in tower direction.”

It is that moment, the Korean commercial airline that appears to be headed straight for the tower, pulls out and thunders overhead, missing it and climbing for altitude, but then something very strange happens as the air aft begins its ascent, there is a flags of light off its wings and abruptly, suddenly disappears from sight. Gone. Only echoes from its great engines still heard, but gradually they too disappear and there is nothing left but a still silence.

“It’s gone.” The coordinator says in almost a whisper.

“It can’t be.”

“Centre, South East air is no longer climbing for altitude having passed over you at twelve o’clock 400 feet, man, you guys got an angel on your team.”

“Check the hay stack did anyone see where it went.”

“TWA 515 roger, return to glide path from outer perimeter, prepare for landing, runway 25...Alaska 375 cleared for take-off. TWA 515 did you see where Korea South East went?”

A thoughtful moment passes…then finally.

“Not really. I have no idea where it went, centre.”

“Alaska 375. Did you see which direction Korean South East flew off in?”

“We were climbing to two seven one, center. We weren’t really watching.’

“Understood. I’ll file the flight plan with no repot until it reaches its destination.”

“We’re holding at two one five, could we get off the stack and come in. We’re low on fuel.”

“Start your descent to approach, turn left and keep your eyes peeled for TWA 515 is level and on final approach. Normal navigation is in progress. We can all breathe again over and out.”

The team supervisor and flow controllers rose and walk a short distance from their scopes, expressing a sense of relief at their own close call. The supervisor heads for a phone with his crew chief right beside him.

“Nobody saw, nobody heard, no one’s direct or honest anymore...”

“Remember what Shakespeare said.  Othello: Act 3, Scene 3, Page 17.’O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, to be direct and honest …is not safe.” He grins “:Especially when you’re honest with Air Force  intelligence.”

****

Russ sat himself down in the navigators’ chair behind the pilot and co-pilot in the Boring Dc019 the flight attendants were sealing the doors up. They were all very attractive. The marrying kind. “He’d been married once, but that had been so long ago that he had to page through dusty, yellowing photo albums to recall his wife's face. In a hurry now.  He ran through the instrument check. He was not a popular man with women, he concluded as he glanced at his instrument panel it was all digital...green and red.  Makes the hardware seen in Sci-Fi films seem primitive by comparison.

Primitive like he had become after his divorce since then, he had lived only for his career, only engaging in sexual relations to relieve himself, that’s what that bitch Sandra was for, his physical needs.

The South Korean Airline began to taxi for the runway, systems were All "GO. He had to pull a lot of strings.

Now Sandra

...Well, she was a classy woman. She was more than just attractive, she was first class ass….indeed, her social graces were to be admired, and she always seem to know what clothes to wear to any occasions. Her style and mannerisms was one of the main reasons he had agreed to bring her in close to the conservative Rocky Mountain Springs organization in the first place.

She was the Grace Kelly in his life. Sure he was way older than her, but she didn’t seem to care that he was over thirty years older than her. The respect he had for her talent was genuine. He had never, however, even for a moment suspect that she was a fucking jackal in sheep’s clothing playing him fir a fool.

He thought their attraction for each other was mutual.

He was dead wrong.

 She was exactly what the doctor didn’t order.

She was like a slow acting drug, making you feel at ease. She could cut your throat and you wouldn’t know your neck had been slit, until you went to the john to take a piss, looked down only to have your head slip from your neck and splash in the toilet. She played him like a piano, making him think he was exactly what she had longed for and needed in her life. He had watched her slowly cross her long, shapely legs during the meetings, posing... allowing his eyes to strip her naked and size her up. When they laughed and talked, he tell what was a dirty, sexy joke. By now he had thrown caution to the wind... He no longer cared about all those new "sexual harassment" policies. Let them fire him, they were going to replace him anyway. He’d tell her a sexy joke whenever he got the chance and her big breasts that were topped by rock hard pencil eraser sized nipples became hard at the slightest measure of arousal. Those jokes proved to be the right move to make. Finally, he had been unable to resist her any longer. He made a move on her and she melted into his arms- as they used to say where he grew up in Brooklyn – she was hot as a cat on a hot tin roof.

She had given him an exhilarating experience….and now he was going to give every one of them on the ground in China  an experience Beijing and Yoho are never going to forget.

“Beijing, here I come!”

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