Airframe Read Online Free
Author: Michael Crichton
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Psychological, Romance, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Aircraft accidents, Aircraft accidents - Investigation, Adventure stories; American
reading a big stack of newspapers from all over the country every Sunday after church, muttering to himself, "That's not the story, that's not the story!" as he dropped the pages in an untidy heap around his living room chair. Of course, her father had been a print journalist, back in the 1960s. It was a different world now. Now, everything was on television. Television, and the mindless chatter on the radio.
Up ahead, she saw the main gate of the Norton plant. She clicked the radio off.
Norton Aircraft was one of the great names of American aviation. The company had been started by aviation pioneer Charley Norton in 1935; during World War II it made the legendary B-22 bomber, the P-27 Skycat fighter, and the C-12 transport for the Air Force. In recent years, Norton had weathered the hard times that had driven Lockheed out of the commercial transport business. Now it was one of just four companies that still built large aircraft for the global market. The others were Boeing in Seattle, McDonnell Douglas in Long Beach, and the 14
European consortium Airbus in Toulouse.
She drove through acres of parking lots to Gate 7, pausing at the barrier while security checked her badge. As always, she felt a lift driving into the plant, with its three-shift energy, the yellow tugs hauling bins of parts. It wasn't a factory so much as a small city, with its own hospital, newspaper, and police force. Sixty thousand people had worked here when she first came to the company. The recession had trimmed that to thirty thousand, but the plant was still huge, covering sixteen square miles. Here they built the N-20, the narrow-body twinjet; the N-22, the widebody; and the KC-22, the Air Force fuel tanker. She could see the principal assembly buildings, each more than a mile in length.
She headed for the glass Administration building, in the center of the plant. Pulling into her parking space, she left the engine running. She saw a young man, looking collegiate in a sport coat and tie, khaki slacks, and penny loafers. The kid waved diffidently as she got out of the car.
BLDG 64
6:45 A.M.
"Bob Richman," he said. "I'm your new assistant." His handshake was polite, reserved. She couldn't remember which side of the Norton family he was from, but she recognized the type.
Plenty of money, divorced parents, an indifferent record at good schools, and an unshakable sense of entitlement.
"Casey Singleton," she said. "Get in. We're late."
"Late," Richman said, as he climbed into the car. "It's not even seven."
"First shift starts at six," Casey said. "Most of us in QA work the factory schedule. Don't they do that at GM?"
"I wouldn't know," he said. "I was in Legal."
"Spend any time on the floor?"
"As little as possible."
Casey sighed. It was going to be a long six weeks with this guy, she thought. "You've been over in Marketing so far?"
"Yeah, a few months." He shrugged. "But selling isn't really my thing."
She drove south toward Building 64, the huge structure where the widebody was built. Casey said, "By the way, what do you drive?"
"A BMW," Richman said.
"You might want to trade it in," she said, "for an American car."
"Why? It's made here."
"It's assembled here," she said. "It's not made here. The value’s added overseas. The mechanics in the plant know the difference; they're all UAW. They don't like to see a Beamer in the parking lot."
15
Richman stared out the window. "What are you saying, something might happen to it?'
"Guaranteed," she said. "These guys don't screw around."
"I'll think about it," Richman said He suppressed a yawn. "Jesus, it's early. What are we rushing to?"
"The IRT. It's been pushed up to seven," she said.
'The Incident Review Team. Every time something happens to one of our planes, the IRT
meets to figure out what happened, and what we should do about it"
"How often do you meet?'
"Roughly every two months."
"That often," the kid said.
You 're going to have to start him from the
Up ahead, she saw the main gate of the Norton plant. She clicked the radio off.
Norton Aircraft was one of the great names of American aviation. The company had been started by aviation pioneer Charley Norton in 1935; during World War II it made the legendary B-22 bomber, the P-27 Skycat fighter, and the C-12 transport for the Air Force. In recent years, Norton had weathered the hard times that had driven Lockheed out of the commercial transport business. Now it was one of just four companies that still built large aircraft for the global market. The others were Boeing in Seattle, McDonnell Douglas in Long Beach, and the 14
European consortium Airbus in Toulouse.
She drove through acres of parking lots to Gate 7, pausing at the barrier while security checked her badge. As always, she felt a lift driving into the plant, with its three-shift energy, the yellow tugs hauling bins of parts. It wasn't a factory so much as a small city, with its own hospital, newspaper, and police force. Sixty thousand people had worked here when she first came to the company. The recession had trimmed that to thirty thousand, but the plant was still huge, covering sixteen square miles. Here they built the N-20, the narrow-body twinjet; the N-22, the widebody; and the KC-22, the Air Force fuel tanker. She could see the principal assembly buildings, each more than a mile in length.
She headed for the glass Administration building, in the center of the plant. Pulling into her parking space, she left the engine running. She saw a young man, looking collegiate in a sport coat and tie, khaki slacks, and penny loafers. The kid waved diffidently as she got out of the car.
BLDG 64
6:45 A.M.
"Bob Richman," he said. "I'm your new assistant." His handshake was polite, reserved. She couldn't remember which side of the Norton family he was from, but she recognized the type.
Plenty of money, divorced parents, an indifferent record at good schools, and an unshakable sense of entitlement.
"Casey Singleton," she said. "Get in. We're late."
"Late," Richman said, as he climbed into the car. "It's not even seven."
"First shift starts at six," Casey said. "Most of us in QA work the factory schedule. Don't they do that at GM?"
"I wouldn't know," he said. "I was in Legal."
"Spend any time on the floor?"
"As little as possible."
Casey sighed. It was going to be a long six weeks with this guy, she thought. "You've been over in Marketing so far?"
"Yeah, a few months." He shrugged. "But selling isn't really my thing."
She drove south toward Building 64, the huge structure where the widebody was built. Casey said, "By the way, what do you drive?"
"A BMW," Richman said.
"You might want to trade it in," she said, "for an American car."
"Why? It's made here."
"It's assembled here," she said. "It's not made here. The value’s added overseas. The mechanics in the plant know the difference; they're all UAW. They don't like to see a Beamer in the parking lot."
15
Richman stared out the window. "What are you saying, something might happen to it?'
"Guaranteed," she said. "These guys don't screw around."
"I'll think about it," Richman said He suppressed a yawn. "Jesus, it's early. What are we rushing to?"
"The IRT. It's been pushed up to seven," she said.
'The Incident Review Team. Every time something happens to one of our planes, the IRT
meets to figure out what happened, and what we should do about it"
"How often do you meet?'
"Roughly every two months."
"That often," the kid said.
You 're going to have to start him from the
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