Chapter Four – Clues

Henri Davis shook his head slightly as he walked down the sloping snow road from the medical practice and headed toward the scene of the accident. Mr. O'Neill had shed some much valuable light on the actions taken during the flight but a lot of questions still remained. He walked over to his people who'd been hard at work for several hours already, and found the freedom and peace of the early morning to be a sharp contrast to the evening's crazy chaos. Davies gave a low whistle as he glanced up the mountain and took in the dent made by the aircraft. The deep cut through the packed snow looked even more impressive in daylight. He sighed as he walked up to his closest colleague who stood hunched next to what was left of the tail fin.

"I see you've been hard at work," he remarked with a smirk.

Sarah Girth chuckled at his statement. "Yeah, and I'll tell you, it took some time to free this instable part of the aircraft from all the snow," she said and then nodded at the practice. "Have you been able to talk to them?"

"Only the flight engineer. Alton is a bit overprotective of the crew, like they are hiding something," he mused. "But I might have been a bit of a bully at another accident site a few months ago where he was present."

Sarah shook her head in exasperation. "Have I not told you not to step on someone's toes?" she asked, her voice light and sarcastic at the same time.

"He rubs me the wrong way," Davis offered with a sigh as he reached up with his hand to scratch his forehead.

"Don't let him get to you then," she reasoned. "Show him how good we are at our job instead. Not that he has any reason to doubt it."

Davis smiled appreciatively. "Always managing to cheer me up," he said. "You on the other hand look more troubled than usual."

"I'm both amazed and horrified when it comes to this accident," she admitted thoughtfully. "Look at the fractures in the body. The stresses to the hull must have been enormous. It's like the aircraft tore itself apart."

"Actually," Davis said solemnly as he crunched down beside her and glanced up at the scorn piece of metal before them. "I think it did."

OOOOOO

"You're up early," Doctor Horst remarked as he sauntered into the dining room.

Alton glanced up from the newspaper in hand and took a sip of the freshly brewed coffee. "An old habit I'm afraid," he admitted sheepishly and then added; "I always managed to get those early morning flights during my last active years."

The doctor nodded. "And when retirement came you couldn't let go?" he asked curiously as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.

Alton chuckled. "An old fox like me don't know what to do when being grounded for life," he said. "Sitting idle fiddling with some brief mark collection is nothing for a man that has travelled all the corners of the world."

"So you took up a different role?" the doctor said.

Alton rubbed his forehead and sighed in exasperation. "You could say that," he admitted enigmatically. "Investigating a flight accident is a very complex matter, involving a lot of people, a lot of experts on the field. My role in this whole mess is to represent the pilots during the investigation. It's my duty to see to it that their story is heard and the information is taken into the calculations. Captain Metrand and Captain Patroni are members of two different associations, one based in the United States and one based in France. I'm able to represent them both since I'm a member of the International Federation of Airline Pilots Association, IFALPA. I will also be involved in the interviews of the crew and passengers together with an FAA representative."

"Sounds as complexed, if not worse, than a medical board hearing," Horst deduced. "What would be Mr. Davis role in all of this?"

"Davis is a flight investigator correlator working for NTSB, he is in charge of tying together every different aspects of the accident and have the various experts report back their findings and conclusions," Alton explained.

"Then why the rush to personally interview the flight crew?" Horst asked curiously. "Shouldn't they be carried out by someone else?"

"Line Sanders, another member of the safety board is probably on her way here to do so but Davis is certified to carry out such interviews should he find that it would help the investigation," Alton informed.

"Every situation, every accident, is unique which gives the lead flight investigator a choice as to which groups to call upon in order to carry out a thorough investigation. For example I don't see the need to call upon the engine manufacturer in this case, nor do I see any reason to dig through any past medical records of the flight crew. However, structural engineers, maintenance experts and representatives from the manufacturer would most likely be involved. The teams will piece together the scenario and replay it in order to see what could have been done to minimize the damage. In this case there were no fatalities and they have plenty of people to interview so it should be a simpler investigation in this case," Alton finished.

"I take it that it's like when someone is involved in a car accident that you do a background check?" Horst stated.

"In this case I know that Captain Metrand and Captain Patroni have no marks on their respective records. I've done my background check already on my way here," Alton let on. "What is interesting is how the manufacturer will deal with the situation."

"I'm afraid that I don't follow you," Horst replied with a frown.

"The manufacturer of the aircraft will send representatives and usually there is a test pilot involved who can point out how to handle the aircraft in various situations and so on. Captain Metrand has been employed at the manufacturer for several years as a test pilot for this type of aircraft. He knows better than anyone what the aircraft is capable of," Alton explained with a smile. "He has been flying for twenty years and served in the military during the Indochina wars. He's a certified fighter jet pilot, has the required flight time in simulator to fly regular commercial airliners and is fully certified to fly the Concorde."

"In other words, Captain Metrand is one hell of a pilot," the doctor said with a smirk.

"Captain Patroni is no newbie either," Alton said and returned the smirk. "He's been flying for thirty years, although his service record in the military varies from piloting aircrafts at the front line to be an advisor on the ground. He has a bachelor in civil aeronautics/engineering and is a certified mechanic. He even practiced as one for several years before taking up flying again. He worked as a regular commercial airline pilot for over fifteen years before taking up a position as vice president of an American Airline company."

"Why would one leave such a commitment?" Horst mused.

A faint smile crept over Alton's lips. "I think that the expression 'Once a pilot, always a pilot' would fit exemplary here," he answered. "Captain Patroni's wife died tragically and there was some turbulence in the particular company at the time. I believe he simply had enough of being on the ground. He took time to go to France and retrain to become a Concorde pilot."

"Seems like a good combination," the doctor said. "The good news is that they appear fairly well considering the circumstances. In fact I find it amazing that they are in such a good shape after what they've been through. Cuts and bruises mostly, sore muscles and joints. It's a wonder the human body can withstand the forces brought upon them without breaking."

Alton nodded thoughtfully.

"Anyway I've just been to see Captain Metrand and he said he should be here in a moment. I'll go in search for them," Horst offered. "They must be hungry by now."

OOOOOO

Flight attendant Joanna Jones threw a shaky breath as she sat down in an armchair in what appeared to be a waiting room on the top floor of the building. It didn't take long before her coworker Isabelle Delé appeared at her side. The woman, in charge of the cabin crew, looked drawn and tired as she sat down in the armchair next to Joanna.

"Isabelle, are you all right?" Joanna asked carefully.

She nodded. "It's been a rough night, that's all," she explained softly, her eyes glued to the television, sitting in the corner of the room.

"And now we can reveal to you more information about the flight accident in the Alps last night," the news reporter said. "This film was made by an amateur during the crash."

Isabelle and Joanna shared a look as the image of the Concorde began to roll on the television. It showed the aircraft as it was slowly descending, fighting what appeared to be a rather hefty crosswind before it made contact with the ground and began its mad dash down the sloped mountain. The picture was of poor quality and the man that was filming couldn't keep his hand from shaking but the scene gave Isabelle the creeps anyway and by the look on Joanna's face it got to her too.

"Good morning," a familiar voice greeted from behind them, causing the flight attendants to jump.

Paul couldn't help but smile at the reaction but soon sobered as he walked up behind them to watch the news.

"We can confirm that no casualties has been reported from the crash site and that most of the passengers has been transported either to the intended destination in Russia or back to Innsbruck International and from there back to Paris or Washington," the news reporter continued.

Peter, Joe and Doctor Horst, having come from different directions, appeared in the doorway to listen as well.

"What caused the accident is still unknown. Despite being on site the press has had little luck while interviewing the passengers on the ill-fated flight. We had hoped to spot the flight crew and be able to shed some light on what happened. However, we do know that Captain Metrand was out in the cabin to inspect something before hastily retreating back to the cockpit. Seconds later the aircraft went into a freefall while the cabin pressure disappeared. Segments of the aircraft broke apart. One of the passengers claimed the floor disappeared beneath the guy sitting next to him."

Isabelle unconsciously gripped Paul's wrist, frightened by the retelling. In the chaos she hadn't really had time to reflect upon what she'd been through.

"Luckily, due to a competent flight crew the supersonic Concorde managed to land safely at an Alpine resort in Switzerland. Now, it remains to be seen if it was sabotage or manufacturing errors that led to the accident," the reporter continued seriously. "Rumors are circulating that the Federation World Airlines Chief Engineer was found dead at the Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris, his pockets full of money. Furthermore one wonders why the same aircraft was almost shot down the day before by a malfunctioning attack drone."

Doctor Horst pursed his lips into a thin line of displeasure at the news and he saw the shock etched on some of the young faces before him. In annoyance he reached for the TV remote.

"A lot of questions about the accident remains-"

The TV was effectively shut down and the doctor found himself being glared at by at least four people in the room.

"You'll gain nothing from watching that crap," Horst explained in his defense. "Come on now, why don't we all go through here and have some breakfast."

"A good idea," Paul concurred in a soft, French accented English as he gently hauled Isabelle out of the armchair.

OOOOOO