A mental visual of the chart played out in his head, complete with a widening divergence from the route due to what he now suspected had to be a ground radio navigation system error.
Zach's grip on the stick tightened, any thrill over solving the cause of the crash killed by a primal anger. Lives had been lost, not by accident, but because of a screw-up
"Gentleman, anyone recall the sixty-to-one rule?"
"Of course." Bronco thumped his head. "Sixty-to-one. Every one degree of error on the navigation aid heading translates into three miles off course from this distance."
Radio navigation required daily re-calibration to stay true to heading. Even one missed day could make that subtle one-degree difference.
Cutter slumped back in his seat with a lengthy sigh
"Enough error for a controlled flight smack into a mountain, especially during a night flight. How the hell did the investigation team miss it? They flew this same route ,twice."
"After the crash, someone at the tower likely fixed the error." Zach tossed out his gut guess. "Now that time's passed, they probably slacked off again." And if Zach and his crew hadn't caught the error, another crew would have likely rolled into a turn, crashing into the same mountain range.
They could have smacked a mountain.
Silence reigned supreme over the interphone. Zach knew too well all those steady gazes held images of what each man could have lost. More than ever, the need to fix things with Julia burned within him.
Damn it, they were on their way to building something solid together and he wasn't going to let her throw it away.
She'd been hard as hell to resist before their night together, but now he could barely look at her without remembering the way her legs felt wrapped around his waist.
Keep it focused. He would be home soon, Julia waiting for him on that purple glider with her soft smile and incredible legs.
Six hours later, Zach skimmed the plane to the Charleston runway, centered neatly between the parallel lights illuminating the darkened stretch of asphalt. He turned onto the hammerhead. "Reach three-two-four-five, clear of the active runway."
"Roger, clear of the runway."
Gut-twisting relief still pulsed through the cockpit, restrained but palpable. Ten more minutes to park the plane and then they could let emotions steamroll free.
He guided the plane behind the truck with the big Follow Me sign on back. The crew would report for an in-depth debrief in the morning to document their data and file their findings with the accident investigation board.
Waiting in the parking area, the blue SUV for the Supervisor of Flying chugged exhaust into the chilly night air, Lieutenant Renshaw stepped from the truck, no surprise to find the eager-to-achieve lieutenant pulling SOF yet again. The young pilot was hell-bent on proving she received no favors for being General Renshaw's daughter.
Zach tracked the two glowing orange flashlights in an airman's hands as he guided the plane. The orange light circled, then the airman gestured one across his throat.
Run 'em up. Shut 'em down.
Silence hummed with a final goodbye to Lance Sinclair as the last page closed on the mission.
Zach nodded. "Well done, crew."
Bronco fist-punched the air. "Hell, yeah!"
Laughter rumbled through the interphone. Order and honor restored to the unit. The crew whipped off headsets and unstrapped.
Amid the echoes of cheers and self-congratulatory back slaps, Zach loped down the narrow stairwell, through the hatch into the biting wind. A haze of fluorescent lights illuminated his path down the metal stairs.
Twenty yards away, the passenger door on the SUV flung open and Zach found he would be fixing things with Julia sooner than he'd anticipated. Her long legs slid out of the vehicle. He didn't have to see the rest to recognize her. He would know those mile-long legs and pink high tops anywhere.
For a flash of time, Julia's homecoming fantasy hit him, full force and full of the promise for a hundred more like it throughout the years. Then her head cleared the truck and he saw her stony expression.
She knew. He didn't question how she'd found out, but somehow she already knew about the day's mission to trace her dead husband's final flight and she didn't plan to thank him for it.
Julia stormed across the tarmac. Gusting wind plastered jean skirt to her legs, stirring her curls into a tangled frenzy around her face.
Footsteps behind him on the stairs slowed. Bronco, Cutter and Tag fanned around him, stopping still and wary as they looked from Zach to Julia and back again. Renshaw didn't budge from her perch beside the truck, her arms braced on the door as she watched.