tc.patriotgames-第33节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


。　Jack　listened　for　its　retraction　into　the　airframe；　but　the　sheer　power　of　the　takeoff　blocked　it　out。　Already　they　were　at　least　a　thousand　feet　off　the　ground　and　rocketing　upward　at　what　seemed　an　impossible　angle。　He　looked　over　to　his　wife。　Wow；　Cathy　mouthed　at　him。　Sally　had　her　nose　against　the　plastic　inside　window。
　　　　The　angle　of　climb　eased　off　slightly。　Already　the　cabin　attendants　were　at　work；　with　a　drink　cart。　Jack　got　himself　a　glass　of　champagne。　He　wasn't　in　a　celebrating　mood；　but　bubbly　wines　always　affected　him　fast。　Once　Cathy　had　offered　to　prescribe　some　Valium　for　his　flying　jitters。　Ryan　had　an　ingrained　reluctance　to　take　drugs。　But　booze　was　different；　he　told　himself。　He　looked　out　the　window。　They　were　still　going　up。　The　ride　was　fairly　smooth；　no　bumps　worse　than　going　over　the　tar　strip　on　a　concrete　highway。
　　　　Jack　felt　every　one；　mindful　of　the　fact　that　he　was　several　thousand　feet　over　　he　checked　　still　the　ground。
　　　　He　fished　the　paperback　out　of　his　pocket　and　started　reading。　This　was　his　one　sure　escape　from　flying。　Jack　slouched　to　his　right；　his　head　firmly　wedged　into　the　place　where　the　seat　and　white　plastic　wall　met。　He　was　able　to　rest　his　left　arm　on　the　aisle　seat；　and　that　took　the　weight　off　the　place　on　his　waist　where　the　cast　dug　in　hard。　His　right　elbow　was　planted　on　the　armrest；　and　Ryan　made　himself　a　rigid　part　of　the　airframe　as　he　concentrated　on　his　book。　He'd　selected　well　for　the　flight；　one　of　Alistair　Home's　books　on　the　Franco…German　conflicts。　He　soon　found　another　reason　to　hate　his　cast。　It　was　difficult　to　read　and　turn　pages　one…handed。　He　had　to　set　the　book　down　first　to　do　it。
　　　　A　brief　surge　of　power　announced　that　first　one；　then　the　other　pair　of　afterburners　had　been　activated　on　the　Concorde's　Olympus　engines。　He　felt　the　new　acceleration；　and　the　aircraft　began　to　climb　again　as　she　passed　through　mach…1；　and　the　airliner　gave　meaning　to　her　call　sign　prefix：　〃Speedbird。〃　Jack　looked　out　the　window　　they　were　over　water　now。　He　checked　his　watch：　less　than　three　hours　to　touchdown　at　Dulles。　You　can　put　up　with　anything　for　three　hours；　can't　you？
　　　　Like　you　have　a　choice。　A　light　caught　his　eye。　How　did　I　miss　that　before？　On　the　bulkhead　a　few　feet　from　his　head　was　a　digital　speed　readout。　It　now　read　1024；　the　last　number　changing　upward　rapidly。
　　　　Damn！　I'm　going　a　thousand　miles　per　hour。　What　would　Robby　say　about　this？　I　wonder　how　Robby's　doing　。　。　。He　found　himself　mesmerized　by　the　number。　Soon　it　was　over　1300。　The　rate　of　change　dropped　off　nearly　to　zero；　and　the　display　stopped　at　1351。　One　thousand　three　hundred　fifty…one　miles　per　hour。　He　did　the　putation　in　his　head：　nearly　two　thousand　feet　per　second；　almost　as　fast　as　a　bullet；　about　twenty　miles　per　minute。　Damn。　He　looked　out　the　window　again。　But　why　is　it　still　noisy？　If　we're　going　supersonic；　how　e　the　sound　isn't　all　behind　us？　I'll　ask　Robby。　He'll　know。
　　　　The　puffy；　white；　fair…weather　clouds　were　miles　below　and　sliding　by　at　a　perceptible　rate　nevertheless。　The　sun　glinted　off　the　waves；　and　they　stood　out　like　shiny　blue　furrows。　One　of　the　things　that　annoyed　Jack　about　himself　was　the　dichotomy　between　his　terror　of　flying　and　his　fascination　with　what　the　world　looked　like　from　up　here。　He　pulled　himself　back　to　the　book　and　read　of　a　period　when　a　steam　lootive　was　the　leading　edge　of　human　technology；　traveling　at　a　thirtieth　of　what　he　was　doing　now。　This　may　be　terrifying；　but　at　least　it　gets　you　from　place　to　place。
　　　　Dinner　arrived　a　few　minutes　later。　Ryan　found　that　the　champagne　had　given　him　an　appetite。　Jack　was　rarely　hungry　on　an　airplane；　but　much　to　his　surprise　he　was　now。　The　menu　carried　on　the　annoying；　and　baffling；　English　habit　of　advertising　their　food　in　French；　as　if　language　had　any　effect　on　taste。　Jack　soon　found　that　the　taste　needed　no　amplification。　Salmon　gave　way　to　a　surprisingly　good　steak　　something　the　Brits　have　trouble　with　　a　decent　salad；　strawberries　and　cream　for　dessert；　and　a　small　plate　of　cheese。　A　good　port　replaced　the　champagne；　and　Ryan　found　that　forty　minutes　had　slipped　by。　Less　than　two　hours　to　home。
　　　　〃Ladies　and　gentlemen；　this　is　the　captain　speaking。　We　are　now　cruising　at　fifty…three　thousand　feet；　with　a　ground　speed　of　thirteen　hundred　fifty…five　miles　per　hour。　As　we　burn　off　fuel；　the　aircraft　will　float　up　to　a　peak　altitude　of　roughly　fifty…nine　thousand　feet。　The　outside　air　temperature　is　sixty　degrees　below　zero　Celsius；　and　the　aircraft　skin　temperature　is　about　one　hundred　degrees　Celsius；　this　caused　by　friction　as　we　pass　through　the　air。　One　side　effect　of　this　is　that　the　aircraft　expands；　being　roughly　eleven　inches　longer　in　midflight　〃
　　　　Metal　fatigue！　Ryan　thought　bleakly。　Did　you　have　to　tell　me　that？　He　touched　the　window。　It　felt　warm；　and　he　realized　that　one　could　boil　water　on　the　outside　aluminum　skin。　He　wondered　what　effect　that　had　on　the　airframe。　Back　to　the　19th　century；　he　manded　himself　again。　Across　the　aisle　his　daughter　was　asleep；　and　Cathy　was　immersed　in　a　magazine。
　　　　The　next　time　Jack　checked　his　watch　there　was　less　than　an　hour　to　go。　The　captain　said　something　about　Halifax；　Nova　Scotia；　to　his　right。　Jack　looked　but　saw　only　a　vague　dark　line　on　the　northern　horizon。　North　America　　we're　getting　there。　That　was　good　news。　As　always；　his　tension　and　the　airliner　seat　conspired　to　make　his　back　stiff；　and　the　cast　didn't　help　at　all。　He　felt　a　need　to　stand　up　and　walk　a　few　steps；　but　that　was　something　he　tried　not　to　do　on　airplanes。　The　steward　refilled　his　port　glass；　and　Jack　noticed　that　the　angle　of　the　sun　through　the　window　had　not　changed　since　London。　They　were　staying　even；　the　aircraft　keeping　up　with　the　earth's　rotation　as　it　sped　west。　They　would　arrive　at　Dulles　at　about　noon；　the　pilot　informed　them。　Jack　looked　at　his　watch　again：　forty　minutes。　He　stretched　his　legs　and　went　back　to　the　book。
　　　　The　next　disturbance　was　when　the　cabin　crew　handed　out　customs　and　immigration　forms。　As　he　tucked　his　book　away；　Jack　watched　his　wife　go　to　work　listing　all　the　clothes　she'd　bought。　Sally　was　still　asleep；　curled　up　with　an　almost　angelic　peace　on　her　face。　They　made　landfall　a　minute　later　somewhere　over　the　coast　of　New　Jersey；　heading　west　into　Pennsylvania　before　turning　south　again。　The　aircraft　was　lower　now。　He'd　missed　the　transonic　deceleration；　but　the　cumulus　clouds　were　much　closer　than　they'd　been　over　the　ocean。　Okay；　Captain　Higgins；　let's　get　this　bird　back　on　the　ground　in　one　solid　piece。　He　found　a　silver　luggage　tag　that　he　was　evidently　supposed　to　keep。　In　fact；　he　decided　to　keep　the　whole　package；　plete　with　a　certificate　that　identified　him　as　a　Concorde　passenger　　or　veteran；　he　thought　wryly。　I　survived　the　British　Airways　Concorde。
　　　　Dumbass；　if　you'd　flown　the　747　back　home；　you'd　still　be　over　the　ocean。
　　　　They　were　low　enough　to　see　roads　now。　The　majority　of　aircraft　accidents　came　at　landing；　but　Ryan　didn't　see　it　that　way。　They　were　nearly　home。　His　fear　was　nearly　at　an　end。　That　was　good　news　as　he　looked　out　the　window　at　the　Potomac。　Finally　the　Concorde　took　a　large　nose…high　angle　again；　ing　in　awfully　fast。　Jack　thought；　as　she　dropped　gently　toward　the　ground。　A　second　later　he　saw　the　airport　perimeter　fence。　The　heavy　bumps　on　the　airliner's　main　gear　followed　at　once。　They　were　down。　They　were　safe。　Anything　that　happened　now　was　a　vehicle　accident；　not　an　aircraft　one；　he　told　himself。　Ryan　felt　safe　in　cars；　mainly　because　he　was　in　control。　He　remembered　that　Cathy　would　have　to　drive　today；　however。
　　　　The　seat　belt　sign　came　off　a　moment　after　the　aircraft　stopped；　and　the　forward　door　was　opened。　Home。　Ryan　stood　and　stretched。　It　was　good　to　be　stationary。　Cathy　had　their　daughter　in　her　lap；　running　a　brush　through　her　hair　as　Sally　rubbed　the　sleep　from　her　eyes。　
　　　　〃Okay；　Jack？〃　
　　　　〃Are　we　home　already〃〃　Sally　asked。
　　　　Her　father　assured　her　that　they　were。　He　walked　forward。　The　stewardess　who'd　led　him　aboard　asked　if　he'd　enjoyed　the　ride；　and　Jack　replied；　truthfully；　that　he　had。　Now　that　it's　over。　He　found　a　seat　in　the　mobile　lounge；　and　his　family　joined　him。
　　　　〃Next　time　we　go　across；　that's　how　we　do　it；〃　Ryan　announced　quietly。
　　　　〃Why？　Did　you　like　it？〃　Cathy　was　surprised。
　　　　〃You　better　believe　I　like　it。　You　only　have　to　be　up　there　half　as　long。〃　Jack　laughed；　mainly　at　himself。　As　with　every　flight　he　took；　being　back　on　the　ground　alive　carried　its　own　thrill。　He　had　survived　what　was　patently　an　unnatural　act；　and　the　exhilaration　of　being　alive；　and　home；　gave　him　a　quiet　glow　of　his　own。　The　stride　of　passengers　off　an　airplane　is　always　jauntier　than　the　stride　on。　The　lounge　pulled　away。　The　Concorde　looked　very　pretty　indeed　as　they　drew　away　from　it　and　turned　toward　the　terminal。
　　　　〃How　much　money　did　you　spend　on　clothes？〃　Jack　asked　as　the　lounge　stopped　at　the　arrival　gate。　His　wife　just　handed　him　the　form。　〃That　much？〃
　　　　〃Well；　why　not？〃　Cathy　grinned。　〃I　can　pay　for　it　out　of　my　money；　can't　I？〃　
　　　　〃Sure；　babe。〃
　　　　〃And　that's　three　suits　for　you；　too。　Jack；〃　his　wife　informed　him。
　　　　〃What