Chapter 22

(An Airport in the Northwest Province, known as Don’s Airport.)

Do you know how busy an airport is? Take Oliver Tambo International airport (FAOR) in Kemptonpark, Johannesburg. This airport is the busiest airport in Africa with handling more than 28 million passengers per year. At 5558 ft above mean sea level, it is also a “hot and high” airport. No wonder Airbus brought their A380 here for flight tests.

With 597 aircraft movements per day, it was no wonder that the nice people at SAFAIR were quite happy to let us use Don’s Airport for the conversion training on the L-100-30. So, we not only got the conversion training but got it done in our own aircraft on our own airfield. Okay, Don’s airfield. He will disagree with us because he does not own the airfield; we only say so for clarity purposes.

It felt familiar to sit in the pilot seat. I adjusted the seat to fit my unique physique, but that is where the familiarity stopped. This L-100-30 was not the C130BZ, that I was used to flying. This one had many more horses and weighed a lot more. Even the cockpit differed from what I was used to. So here goes.

“Good morning, and thank you for flying Angels Express Logistics flight AEL001 to nowhere.” Don’s voice came over the intercom, getting the evil eye from Olivia. “Your Captain today will be Captain Dave, and the lovely blond co-pilot, First Officer Olivia. I hope we’re safe in their hands as today will be the first time they fly this aircraft, and not Flight Simulator.” And Don made a holy cross over his heart. Leah reached out and slapped him on the head.

“You’re not even Catholic! Behave yourself, or I’ll drop you off on a cloud way up at angels 15,” Leah said.

“Ouch! Captain, I’m being assaulted by your flight engineer!” Don complained.

“Do as you were told,” I said and then imitating the husky American voice of Olivia. “Sit still, observe-er, and keep yer trap shut!”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Don said and cracked a smart salute out of his sitting position in the jump seat while grinning. “I’ll report you all to Mai-Loan and the other girls ... They’ll sort you out, you bully.”

The SAFAIR instructor elected to let us fly the aircraft in the configuration that we intend to operate her. Olivia was co-pilot, Leah the flight engineer, and I would be PIC. While waiting on the taxiway to runway 03 Left at FAOR, just behind an El Al Airlines Boeing 757 already lined up on the runway, we did the final checks and dropped the flaps to 50%.

The B757 blasted down the runway, and it was our turn to line up. Runway 03 Left was the departure runway, with its twin Runway 03 Right, designated for arrivals.

“Romeo Sierra Golf, cleared for take-off. Maintain runway heading until established on the climb. Right turn to 045 approved at 6500 ft altitude. Short field take-off approved.” Transmission from the tower. Olivia acknowledged the transmitted instruction.

“Romeo Sierra Golf, read-back correct. Contact Waterkloof Control when airborne. Ah, advise you watch the wake turbulence of that 757.” came the transmission from the tower.

“Will do Tower, If the guys behind us, are not in a hurry, we’ll give it 3 minutes or so,” Olivia acknowledged the transmission.

“Don’t mind us Madam, we respect our elders.” Came an unidentified voice over the frequency. Olivia looked a little amused. She was younger than the guy on the radio sounded, but we all knew he was referring to the Hercules.

“All systems in the green, captain,” Leah announced.

“All systems in the green.” I acknowledged, “Ready crew, here we go.”

I lightly stroked the throttles, using throttle levers two and three to just inch forward, leaving numbers one and four engines at flight idle. Releasing the brakes, the Herc moved forward. This is no Cessna; you don’t hit differential brakes to turn this beast. You use a little nose steering wheel on the left side of the control column. AND, watch your thrust on the engines. Those horses on the wings are powerful.

We turned onto the runway, and I lined up with the centreline, letting the Herc roll forward to be sure we were straight. I looked across the cockpit at Olivia.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready Captain. Flaps 50%. All systems green. On your mark.” Olivia said.

“Mark,” I said. Olivia placed her left hand on the throttles and slowly advanced all four in one smooth move forward to the stops. The four Allison 501-D22A turboprops spooled up to the full 4510 shaft horsepower each. I released the brakes, and the huge Hercules surged forward, pulled ahead by all 18.040 horses.

I glanced down at the airspeed indicator. Sixty knots indicated airspeed (KIAS) and scrolling upwards fast. At 340 metres down the runway, Olivia called: “V1.” indicating we reached a speed where we can no longer abort the take-off. A few seconds later she called; “Vr.” Indicating to me that it is safe to lift the nose of the aircraft. I lifted the nose wheel off the runway.

At the 400-metre mark, the huge Hercules stopped its vibration generated by the wheels in their high-speed roll on the runway, and all went smooth. We were airborne; airspeed at 130 KIAS and less than 426 metres of the runway used! Shit, the Impala can’t beat that. The Hercules gave a little shake as the wings met the slight off-the-nose breeze.

“Six five zero, zero,” Olivia called, indicating we were at 1000 ft above ground level. I began my turn to 045 degrees magnetic, taking us out of the flight path of any traffic this side of the busy international airport.

“Wheels up,” I called. Olivia reached out and selected the undercarriage up lever position.

“Flaps up,” I called, and again my beautiful blond co-pilot complied by selecting the flaps up position. A few seconds later she called; “Gear up, three reds. Flaps up.”

“Good, take her up to 8500 feet and maintain cruise speed at 230 KIAS.” Edward, our instructor said. “Nicely done you guys. I can see you both had some good experience with Hercules. But this one is a little more docile and a bit of a bitch. Eh ... sorry girls.” This elicited general laughter from the crew.

“Well, she better be on her toes with THIS bitch at the controls!” Olivia said. And so our training began. With fuel for four hours, give or take, let’s get this under our belts.

Two hours later, both Olivia and I had gone through the complete flight regime of the Hercules. Slow flight, slow flight with various flap settings.

We also did stall turns and recovery. We were warned again about tail fin stall; something common on the Hercules. The tail fin of the aircraft stalls when the side slip angle becomes too great, and the tail drops, pitching the nose of the aircraft high up. If this situation is allowed to continue, no recovery is possible, and you could drop either tail first or nose first, straight into the terrain. If allowed going unchecked, no amount of power setting will let you recover. You might go straight and level, but watch the vertical speed indicator; you’ll drop in a flat spin with no forward flight possible. Recovery is only possible while the main wings are still flying. If the main wings stall, too bad, so sad, I’m going to miss you.

To recover from a fin stall, pull the yoke back; opposite action to a wing stall recovery. Retract the flaps, if the flaps were in use, and maintain or reduce thrust. By using the ailerons, turn into the wind. This will move the fin away from the critical angle and recover from the fin stall. Just remember, no stall near the ground will be recoverable. Altitude is your friend. The most useless information for a pilot is: how much sky is above him, or how much runway is behind him, or her.

Then it was time for “hops and skips,” or “touch and goes,” whatever you call it, also known as “circuits and landings”. This is done by landing, continuing to roll on the runway, and taking off without stopping. Stabilize the flight, and do it all over again, remaining in the traffic pattern all the while.

“You both seem to know the drill. Leah, you’re doing good as well,” Edward said, “Let’s do a full stop landing and get a potty break.”

“At last! I need a break,” Olivia said.

“In a moment,” I replied, “Let’s do a quick low-level flyby...”

“Yip, let’s give our audience a little thrill,” Olivia said. “What do you want, Dave?”

“Nothing right now,” I said, smirking. “Don, unfasten your seatbelt.”

“Why? Ain’t it against the rules?” Don asked.

“Nope. You do it to walk back and check the cargo while in flight.” I said, “But now I just want you to unfasten and sit still for a moment or two.” Olivia and Leah picked up on my intentions, but did not say anything or let their facial expressions spoil the coming adventure. Without Don noticing, Olivia and Leah just started to stow all loose objects around themselves.

I brought the Herc around, and at about six kilometres from the runway, I started a descent, lining up with the centreline. I spoke into the intercom:

“Max power,” I said. Olivia looked at me, smiled, and advanced all four throttle levers forward.

“Max Power, Captain,” Olivia said, smiling. The Herc responded and sailed forward at 300 KIAS.

We came over the threshold twelve feet off the ground, and the big white “27” runway identifier flashed past us in a white blur at 555 kilometres per hour. I kept it straight down the centreline, feeling the little vibrations throughout the airframe. Edward, our instructor, had realized what I was about to do, so he just sat smiling, carefully watching Olivia and me.

Before the end of the runway, just before the taxiway to the airport apron and our spectators on the ground, I pulled back on the control column, pitching the Hercules nose up 35 degrees. The airspeed wound down, the Herc climbing like a homesick angel. At 150 KIAS, I pushed the control column forward. The Herc responded, arced over the top of the climb, and pushed its nose down towards the ground in a parabolic flight path. For a short moment, all that was not tied down experienced weightlessness and floated up in the air.

“Whaaa...!” Don screamed as he went floating unchecked out of his jump seat. He floated about 3 feet out of the chair, then when gravity took over again, Don slammed back into the jump seat.

“Welcome to Lockheed Martin Hercules!” Olivia said, looking over her shoulder.

“That’s for your wisecracks earlier!” Leah said. “But, But welcome to Hercules, We all had to go through that.” Don just sat there, ashen-faced. Then he slowly smiled.

“Good golly me! That was actually fun. I just did not expect it,” Don said. We all laughed.

“Let’s go full stop now!” I said.

“Yip, I think someone needs to go empty his bladder and get clean undies. No names, just follow my eyes...” Leah said, looking at Don.

“You want a hard braking, short-field landing?” Olivia asked, smiling at me like a cat that is about to eat the canary, “Like I used to do in ‘Fat Albert.’”

I have seen “Fat Albert” of the “Blue Angels” do a hard braking short field landing, where when the aircraft comes to a stop, the nose wheel pitches up 1 to 2 feet off the tarmac, before rocking back down, bouncing a bit on the shock absorbers. I smiled.

“Your plane, Madam,” I said, with a straight face.

“I got the plane,” Olivia said, shaking the control column, to show me she has control of the aircraft.

“Oh shit! Here we go again!” Don exclaimed as Olivia banked the Herc sharply to the left. Edward, our instructor, smiled. He knew we nailed the conversion.

The landing was textbook precision, eliciting another yelp from Don, as the Herc pitched up after stopping short. Olivia used engine four thrust to help her turn the aircraft around on the 150-foot wide runway. There was no parallel taxiway, so to get to the apron she turned the Herc through 180 degrees and taxied along the runway, back to the short taxiway, and onto the apron.

Here again, Olivia demonstrated her skill in handling the Herc. A little thrust on engine 4, engine 3, and 2 at flight idle, while slight reverse thrust on engine 1. The Herc turned on a dime.

Waiting on the apron, where the rest of the gang; Lisa, Lucy, Tracy, Nadia, Laura, Darya, and Mai-Loan. All the beauties, together with Olivia and Leah, was a real treat for Edward, now shortened to “Ed.”

“Wow! You guys can just trash that Hercules. What a flyby!” Lucy said. Don just looked at her and said nothing.

“We thought you would like to see some stuff the Herc can do than just watch us doing circuits and bumps,” Olivia said. “But now ... Potty break! Come on Don, you can go first,”

“Humph! I’m not going to get to live that one down!” Don said.

“Nope! It will teach you to be polite with the pilots!” Leah said, and walked off to the hangar, swinging her flight bag. Laura and Tracy sided up with Don.

“What did they do to my Donny?” Laura asked.

“I’ll tell you later, but be very careful what you say around Olivia and Dave,” Don said, as he placed his arms around Laura and Tracy.

“Don’t forget Leah!” I said.

“Yeah! She slapped me on the head,” Don said.

“You asked for it, buster,” Leah said. We, the flight crew, and Ed chuckled.

“Come, let’s get some snacks. Lisa and Lucy made some tasty treats,” Mai-Loan said, and led us all off to the hangar.

“She looks mighty nice, don’t you think,” Nadia said to Tracy, cocking a thumb over her shoulder towards the Hercules.

“Yeah. Ain’t we a good artwork design team!” Tracy said, and High-fived Nadia. Oh, boy! Battery-acid and Dynamite in proximity. Better watch out!

(I wonder what Daiki is up to?)

Daiki got out of the car at Oliver Tambo International Airport. The driver dropped him off at the International Departures drop-off zone, helped him with his luggage, then departed to Pretoria. There was a long drive ahead of the driver; sixty-odd kilometres all in peak hour traffic; more than two hours’ drive to get back to the hill overlooking the target.

Daiki looked at the departing car. He had other ideas. He will not be going back to Japan just yet. No, he had a score to settle. His father could have resources here in South Africa, but he, Daiki, has resources too. Now to find a rental car.

He looked at the signage boards displayed around the vicinity of the international boarding terminal. Yes, there seem to be a few car rental agencies around. He settled on the European Car rentals and started to walk in that direction.

He needs to go back to that place where he had seen the Asian girl pilot. He can trace her there. She seemed to come from a place to the south of the airport. With some camping gear and getting to the very top of the hill, he can wait and watch and scout out the surrounding landscape. There seemed to be a lot of flying going on at that little airfield. While she flies, he can go down the hill and wait for her to come back, then follow her home.

With his mind made up, Daiki walked briskly towards the car rental place. The first objective, get a car, then camping gear and food. He’s going to be on that hill for a while.

(Later that same afternoon. At Dave’s place.)

The meek June sunlight tried its best to warm up the countryside but was not being very successful at its task. Little cotton-wool-shaped clouds drifted in overhead from the south. First, only a few, but then more and more clouds came along, driven by an icy south wind. This is the beginning of a cold spell. Jackets need to be taken out of summer hibernation.

We all gathered around a nice roaring open fire, under the cover of my lapa. As I mentioned before; here in South Africa, you can always find a reason for a celebration. This celebration will be dedicated to the successful completion of Olivia and my certification as pilots of the Lockheed L-100-30 Hercules. Also, the Hercules herself is home and safe in a new hangar.

Even Joe and his wife turned up for the celebration. Eager to show off the new girl in the stable, we all trooped out back to the airfield and showed Joe and his wife, Monica, around the new bird. Okay, okay, new bird to us. Although she rolled off the assembly line in Marietta, Georgia, USA, in 1992, she’s new to us. So, humour me.

When we returned to the ranch, things were a little subdued due to the chilly weather. Olivia, Mai-Loan, Leah, and Darya, sat with Don, Joe, and me, while Laura, Tracy, Nadia, Lisa, Lucy, and Monica prepared something to eat in the kitchen. Battery-acid and Dynamite together again. Heaven help us.

“So that’s the little thing that is holding our investigation up,” Joe said. “We know that Haruki Nakamura is somehow, mixed up in this mess, but we have no solid evidence against him. Neither are the Japanese police providing any leads.”