Aerostar

This is LW, nothing new here. Please just enjoy the story.

Sorry folks, I got carried away with this one. It got a bit technical, however I did enjoy writing it, it became a bit of an exercise.

I have read several stories recently that take LW literally, not the Lit version. This is one of those. If you want cheating wives please go elsewhere. However, if you like BtBastard read on.

This is an intervention story.

When it was nearly finished, I realised that people may skip over the technical bits if it is not their thing, that is fine, so I tried to rearrange it to make it easier to skip read, I also attempted to add explanations in-story for those that are interested. However, I did have to fudge the physics and aircraft mechanics a little bit to get to where I wanted to go.

You may need to Google some of the terms used in this story. 'Swiss cheese lined up' and 'Zulu' time may be some of them.

Now on to my usual warnings.

Oxford's English dictionaries define fiction as "Something that is invented or untrue."

So please do not tell me, 'It would not happen like that.' Because you are right. It probably would not. This is fiction well, some of it is in this story. At some point in this story, fiction does take over from reality. Please do not complain that it is not real. If you want realism, go watch a documentary or the news, although parts of this one are very, very real.

Humans are fallible, they make mistakes. Just like the ones I made in this story. Please enjoy it.

Just one kiss, one fatal kiss.

Chapter 1

Doing some sums that I already knew the answer to.

"Harry." My mate Dave called out across the office as he strode towards my desk, he had just arrived back from the crash site and was still covered in smelly marsh mud. Dave was the team leader investigating the Piper Aerostar crash that happened three days ago. It must be interesting. "What do you make of this?" He held up a couple of pieces of bent and burnt metal and what looked like a fuel cap with wires hanging from them both. They were still covered in mud. He dropped them on my desk splattering mud everywhere. The crash site was three hours away and he had not stopped to get changed.

He was excited, we all get like that when we think we have found the cause of an accident.

My name is James, but my surname is Callahan. So I am called Harry after 'Dirty Harry'. That name has followed me since day one when I joined up. I often smiled at the confusion it caused when I met Julie, my wife. She calls me Jim or James.

"Can you do some sums for me? You know about this stuff." He asked.

That was when Eric, the Branch boss appeared beside my desk, he probably wanted an update from Dave.

I know about this stuff from a previous job I had. I gave him a quizzical look anyway. He carried on. "They are parts of the wing fuel tank from the Piper Aerostar crash. It appears to have an extra bonding strap and one from the filler cap to the tank. We don't think that is normal."

He was correct but I faked a confused look. "Hang on, the skin of the aircraft wing is the fuel tank, there is only one bonding lead and there is no need for one on the filler cap" On the Aerostar the aircraft wing metal formed the top and bottom of the tank.

Dave looked at Eric. "See, he isn't as green as he is cabbage looking." Dave was from Yorkshire, ex-military and a mate. His insults were not subtle.

Now that is odd. Aircraft fuel tanks normally have one bonding strap to the airframe to prevent circulating electrical currents which can cause a voltage to be generated. It's not a problem unless there is vibration, or corrosion where the bonding lead connects to the metal, it would be worse if one of the bonding straps was loose and made a spark gap. Fuel component bonding, you know pipes, fuel contents sensors, booster pumps that sort of thing can be complicated.

Dave promptly gave the fuel cap a twirl. The wire was loose and it would be inside the fuel tank. I had been listening to the conversations around the office, so I knew where the aircraft crashed. There was a big military radar not far away. It was initially thought he had been outside the danger zone when he crashed, but he was not. The Radar would not have seen him; he was too close and too low. The radar was looking for 'Bogies' hundreds of miles away not on its doorstep.

I also picked up the fact that he was not far away from landing, so the fuel tanks would not have a lot of Avgas, aviation gasoline, in them, but a lot of vapour. It would only need one spark in the correct fuel-air mix for an explosion that would rip the aeroplane apart.

"I need to find the frequency and the power levels at the crash site, the military won't tell us so I will have to go and measure it. Have I got clearance to work on this?" I asked Eric.

I was not part of the team; the pilot was my wife's boss.

Dave answered. "Yes, you're good to go. I phoned Eric on the way back. It's now a crime scene as well. We found an interesting holdall with a small parachute on it, we opened the bag and there were packages in there. We suspect it's drugs and we called the Police back in. We have warned them you are coming as part of our investigation."

Dave sat down; more mud splattered around my desk. Lucy, our cleaner, would tell me off for that. Never mind, I will take the telling off. This is getting interesting. "Look, you're going to pick up some stuff so I might as well bring you up to speed so you don't jump to conclusions." He smiled. "But knowing you, your conclusions would probably be not far from the truth." We had known each other a long time, we served together, and he got me this job six years ago.

He put a serious look on his face. "Now the interesting bit, the packages in the holdall were well wrapped. The police agree they probably are drugs. They will get back to us on that later. We know he took off from Brasschaat airfield just outside Antwerp in Belgium just after 17:30 hours and started following his flight plan to Cambridge for customs. But he disappeared from the radar plot about five miles from the coast. The aircraft exploded in the marshes just North of Walton on the Naze in the nature reserve there just after 18:30, it was dusk then."

"Hang on." I asked. "Are we talking UK or European times?"

"All times are Zulu, just like in the mob. It was not on his flight plan. It's about 200 miles from Brasschaat to Cambridge, the cruising speed of his model of Aerostar is 250 mph. It doesn't add up. He should have been about to land not over a nature reserve. Between us we think he was drug running and was dropping drugs off to a boat waiting in the nature reserve. It wasn't there so he hung around flying low looking for the boat. Then something went wrong and the Port wing exploded. We think the big radar may have had something to do with it. Can you look into it for us? There must have been a spark from somewhere inside the fuel in the tank for it to explode. Could the loose bonding lead on the filler cap do that? What do you think mate?"

"Could it be a bomb of some kind?" Asked Eric.

"Not a bomb boss, certain of that. Wrong debris field." Replied Dave.

I thought Dave's scenario was exactly what happened, just in the wrong place. I said. "You might be right. I need to take some measurements and do some sums. But your idea sounds plausible."

Eric looked at me. "It's your thing, so crack on. Let me know what you find, and keep it in layman's terms please." He clapped me on the shoulder and went to his office.

"Are you looking into the extra bonding leads?" I asked Dave.

"We are waiting for the archived maintenance records for the aircraft, they should be here tomorrow. Hopefully it will tell us about the changes to the fuel tank."

"It will not." I thought to myself

"Will he survive, do you know?" I asked.

"Don't know, he has third and fourth degree burns over most of the left side of his body Including his face and windpipe so he can't talk. The quacks say that the cooling effect of the water he fell in probably saved his life. That and the bird spotters reporting the explosion."

Dave paused. "He is a bloody lucky bloke to get blown out of the aircraft. We suspect the door was unlocked or open ready to drop his holdall. He was also flipping lucky he didn't have a bird strike flying there and that he landed on his back in the marsh or he would have drowned.

"I reckon he was at about 100 ft and 90 knots, the flaps were partly down, so he wasn't far off the stall. He was in a 30 to 40-degree or so bank to the left when it happened looking at the debris. We will have to wait until the instruments are checked to confirm." Dave paused. "Do you know, if it didn't explode, he would have probably crashed anyway. That is a stupid attitude to put your aircraft into." Dave paused letting that sink in. "His hands are okay, he was wearing leather flying gloves, probably to stop fingerprints on the holdall. That saved his hands a lot. He might be able to write."

Too lucky, but maybe a blessing in disguise. After what I had planned.

"I'll phone Julie and let her know I will be away for a day or two. I assume you have a boat for me to get to the crash site?"

"Yea, it's as big as we could lay our hands on to get you as close to the place as possible and I know how you hate boats. I have left you some snowshoes, they help." He giggled as he stood up. "Right, I need some tea. I haven't had one since I left at half ten, it was a long drive."

I went outside to phone Julie. When she answered, I could hear her sniffling. "I hope you are crying about the damage to your marriage, not for your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend." She shouted at me. "I did nothing wrong."

"Having your arms around his neck, kissing him like you do me, lying to me and going behind my back to go with him. If you hadn't done anything it was only a matter of time."

I was exaggerating on the kiss, it was on the lips, but she kissed me better, however I was not lying about going behind my back. And that still annoyed me. Yes, I was being petty, she had explained it.

"No I wouldn't. I love you, I am faithful to you, I just got carried away for one evening. Nothing happened, trust me."

"Why should I?"

"I love you, please, let's not go over it again, I was silly, I got ​​sucked by him, I felt sorry for him, I wouldn't have broken my wedding vows."

"I think if you remember correctly, I stopped you."

I just heard more sniffling from Julie. I did wonder why she was doing that.

We had been over this several times since I caught her with her arms around Harcourt's neck and kissing him, and I am sure we would again.

"Have you been to the hospital to see him?"

"No! I want to, he is my boss and a friend, but it would upset you so, 'No' I haven't, and I will not. I am trying to sort out his business, doing what I can if he recovers and getting it in order in case he doesn't. I am still being paid. I told you as soon as I have his affairs in order I am quitting. Look, I know he overstepped the friend, boss mark, but he is still my boss and I have responsibilities to him and the people that work for him."

Her comment 'his affairs in order' struck a nerve with me.

I knew there was a policeman outside his door at the burn unit, they would know who visited. I will check now that I am part of the investigating team. I am sure I can find a shabby excuse to ask the question.

I carried on above her sniffles. "I am going away for a day or two. I will need my warm waterproofs. Can you get them out please?"

It was October and the wind cutting across the North Sea could be wicked. A 'lazy' wind we called it. It went through you, not around.

"Has there been another crash?"

"No, just this one."

"But you're not on it because I work for him."

"Things have been discovered and they want my skills." There was a pause, I suspect she wanted to ask what, but she knew I would not, nor could not tell her.

"Okay, I will get them out, when are you going?"

"Tonight, I'm leaving here as soon as I have some test equipment together. I want to be at the site first thing tomorrow."

"I will book you a hotel, I can get good rates. I know what your rates are."

I told her that was okay and the name of the hotel the rest of the team was staying in. That was one of the jobs she did for knobhead, it would save me time.

I got the car loaded with all the kit I would need. It was not too much as I knew roughly the frequency range and power levels I would be looking at. I made sure all the batteries were charged, it would be embarrassing to get to the crash site and the instruments not work.

Fortunately for us, the local hospital had a special burns unit and he was in there. I stopped off on the way home and spoke to the Policeman outside knobhead's door. After showing him my ID card, he told me knobhead had two female visitors, a young lady, auburn hair 5 ft 11 or so. Seemed quite angry with him, she had a foreign accent, it was not strong, maybe German or Dutch, not French or Spanish he thought. He got a name but suspected it was false, as could be the accent. The other one was Mary, his ex-girlfriend.

Julie did not go to see him. She was blonde and 5 ft 8.

Chapter 2

Why was I checking to see if my wife went to see her boss in the hospital? It is a long story.

I met Julie when I was in the Service, her Dad was in as well, fortunately a different squadron to me or that could have been really interesting. She was very pretty and lively, with a cute short bobbed haircut popular at the time. I quickly learnt that her most attractive feature was her attitude and personality. To me she got more beautiful as time went on. We got married and she followed me around in the service for the next 12 years. When I left the service I got a job doing specialised aircraft trials, that was fun, unfortunately, I got made redundant. I found a job instructing for a few years teaching young people how aeroplanes work so they can fix them. That was fun too.

Julie and I were at a squadron reunion and I bumped into Dave and his wife. Reunions are great because even the wives know each other. We got chatting about what we had been doing and then he mentioned that the investigation branch he was working for had a slot that was right up my street with the knowledge I had got doing trials. I joined the air investigation people a month later.

Life settled down but Julie was bored with her job just pushing paper around the desk. Well, copying and pasting from one screen to another. She saw an advert in the papers for a personal assistant to the manager and owner of Harcourt Enterprises. She got the job and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Harcourt owned a couple of businesses. A distribution and courier company, a small construction company and even a window cleaning franchise. Mainly in London and across the South, he was expanding into the Midlands as well.

But his main interest was his aircraft hire and charter business out of an airfield not far from us. He had a few nice aeroplanes, a Cessna R182, a Piper Twin Comanche and a Piper Aerostar. Julie told me the Aerostar was his favourite. The airfield was where he had his offices attached to the hangar. Along with Julie there was Old Mike and a couple of lads, Young Mike and Stan to look after the aeroplanes. Old Mike was his licenced engineer, he was not that old, fifty-five-ish, but he was the oldest one there. Harcourt had a girlfriend who was an accountant and she looked after that side of his businesses. Julie enjoyed the challenge of juggling his multitude of little tasks sorting out Harcourt's business dealings. Arranging travel, booking hotels, arranging meetings, all that sort of stuff.

Most of his long distance travel was easy because he would use one of his own aeroplanes, all she had to do was to sort out a hire car and maybe a hotel if he was staying overnight. Sometimes Mary went with him on these trips.

He would generally use the Aerostar. He got Julie to put flight plans in for him. That was something she had done before.

I met him when I went to collect Julie from work one day when her VW Golf was in for a service. I chatted to him about his businesses, especially the aircraft charter one.

When I asked him about what other things he did he just said. "Entrepreneur, fingers in lots of pies, you know." He smiled at me. At the time I did not know what those pies were. He carried on. "She is an amazing help, your missus, excellent at sorting out my business life.

"Julie tells me you like aeroplanes, you did some time in the mob as a spanner monkey. She told me that avionics is your bag. Maybe we should call you Volt monkey." He thought it was funny and laughed. I had been called worse. In fact, the service nickname for my job was 'Fairy' as everything seemed to work by magic that my mechanical brethren did not fully understand. "You'll have to come up with me on a trip. I've a Piper Aerostar, it's getting on a bit, but I keep it up to date with the avionics. I plan to have the fuel system looked at next. I will even let you have a go, it's a bit quick, cruises at about 250, top speed just over 300 mph, think you can handle it?" He was bragging, there was an arrogance about him. I felt he looked down on everyone else. I did not like the man. I thought he was a prat. Julie liked her job so kept my trap shut, mostly. I did mention to her that evening that he seemed a bit brash, loud and arrogant.

She slapped me playfully on the arm and said. "That's just his way, he's a businessman, he's got to show confidence."

I just thought he was a knob.

Julie had been working for Harcourt for about nine months when he offered to take us to lunch in Brussels, him, Mary, Julie and me. He said it was his treat for the work Julie had done.

I was a bit bothered about the weather, it looked a bit rubbish in the afternoon, there was a low pressure front coming in from the Southwest. When I mentioned it all I got was a slap on the back. "What, not scared are we?" He laughed. "I have a rating up to anything the aeroplane can take. We will be fine. If you get scared about the weather, we will turn back and spend the night in a hotel. But trust me I can handle it." He walked off laughing. I really did not like this arrogant prat.

We did have a very nice lunch just outside Brussels, the girls had wine, probably a bit too much. I declined. Harcourt did not touch a drop. I did not think about it until later, but Harcourt spent a lot of time either in the loo or at the bar.

Just after we left the coast of Belgium on the way home, he asked me if I would like to fly the plane. I would. "I thought this would have an autopilot." I asked. It did, I had seen the switches.

"It does, but that's boring so I fly manually unless it's a long trip. There is no skill in using an autopilot."

What he didn't know was that a lot of the people who worked in the air accident branch have a private pilot's licence, as I did. But I only had a single engine rating, not a twin. Julie and I would hire that was how Julie knew a bit about flight plans.

I was flying at the time, manually. He was navigating, not difficult these days with GPS and he had a very nice map display showing exactly where we were. "Turn left, heading for 080." I did a gentle turn because I know Julie doesn't like rapid manoeuvring when we were flying.

"No, not like that." He said. "Like this, I have control."

I responded. "You have control." And took my hands on the yoke. He increased the throttle and did a 360° turn heading up on ending up on a heading of 070. I looked back at Julie. She was grabbing hold of the sick bag. "That's how you turn." I looked at him and said. "And that's how you make your passengers sick." Over the intercom we heard the retching. Mary wasn't particularly happy either.