Evidence of Mercy Read Free Page A

it. “The pump moves too easily, and nothing happens.”
    Jake tried it, his face growing tense. “It has to be a busted hose, or there’d be more resistance.”
    â€œNo,” she argued. “It can’t be. It just can’t.”
    But she couldn’t think of anything else it could be, and as panic began to rise inside her, she tried it again.
    T here was nothing Mike Morgan hated worse than a hotdogger playing with a plane as though it were a paper kite. Aggravated, he watched out the window as the plane feigned a landing, then pulled up at the last minute.
    It couldn’t be Lynda flying, he told himself, sitting in his makeshift control tower that looked more like a concession booth. Lynda had too much respect for her plane. It had to be the arrogant guy who belonged to that red Porsche. Grabbing his microphone, he called up to the plane to put a stop to this.
    â€œCherokee 1–2 Delta—St. Clair Unicom. What’s with the touch-and-go’s, Lynda?”
    He waited for an answer, and when he didn’t get one, he pushed the button again. “Lynda? Do you read me?”
    Finally, he heard her voice. “We’re having a little problem with our landing gear, Mike. We’re not sure whether it’s down or not.”
    â€œOh, no,” he said to himself then glanced out at the plane circling overhead.
    â€œMike, we’re going to do a flyby. Could you come out and see if the gear’s down?”
    Mike grabbed his binoculars with his left hand and pressed the button again with his right. “Affirmative, Lynda.”
    Then dashing through the glass doors, he tried to see just how much trouble they were really in.
    C herokee 1–2 Delta—St. Clair Unicom. You reading me, Lynda?”
    â€œ1–2 Delta.” Bracing herself, Lynda looked over at Jake, whose temples glistened with perspiration. “How does it look, Mike?”
    â€œWorse than we thought, guys. The landing gear is only partially down, and one looks like it’s down further than the other.”
    Jake swore, and Lynda closed her eyes and tried to let the news sink in.
    â€œWe can’t even do a smooth belly landing if it’s partially down!” Jake said. “And if it’s not locked all the way down, it could squirrel all over the place.”
    â€œEven if it’s locked where it is, we’ll land lopsided,” she said. “We’ll lose a wing and cartwheel.”
    Jake grabbed the microphone out of her hand. “Mike, could you see any oil?”
    â€œI was just getting to that,” Mike said. “It looks like there could be oil streaming down the belly behind the gear. Did you try to pump it manually?”
    Lynda and Jake exchanged worried looks, and Lynda took the mike back. “We tried, Mike. It has to be a loose hose.”
    Jake snatched the microphone again. “Mike, we’re gonna have to take our chances and land with what we’ve got.”
    â€œNo!” Lynda shouted. “We could crash! My plane would be destroyed.”
    â€œNot to mention its passengers!” he shouted back at her. “But there isn’t enough fuel for us to stay up here long enough for a miracle, so unless you’ve got any better ideas. . . .”
    Viciously, Lynda tried the hand pump again and then the automatic lever, as if the plane might have healed itself in the last few minutes.
    Finally giving up, she took the mike back. “It won’t go up or down, Mike. He’s right. We don’t have any choice.”
    â€œI’m so glad you agree,” Jake said caustically.
    Lynda ignored him.
    â€œI don’t see any alternative either, Lynda,” Mike admitted. “This could be bad. The wind isn’t gonna help any. This crosswind could be a nightmare.”
    â€œYeah,” she said, “and if the gear isn’t down all the way, then our brakes aren’t working, either. And the fire hazard. . .