Striding purposefully up to the counter, Jed introduces himself. “Good morning, I’m Jed Mitchell, booked in for a check flight at ten.”
The office girl smiles a welcome and looks over to an instructor, scanning the NOTAMs on a noticeboard. He turns around with a welcoming grin. “Didn’t think there’d be too many flyers with that name. G’day Jed!”
Dan Saunders, looking very professional, is a young instructor building flying time until he can move on in the world of aviation. White, open-necked shirt, epaulets on his shoulders, a winged gold badge on his chest worn with pride and neatly ironed black trousers covering a slim, tanned, athletic body. He has been a member of the Aero Club of Southern Tasmania, more recently scoring a job up North to build his time in the air.
‘Hi Dan! Good to see you again. You giving me a work out?”
“That’s the story. It’s a beautiful aircraft and the owner is a bit fussy. Here on holidays?”
“That’s the plan. This is Alexander. We’re here for a few days touring.”
They chat for a while before Dan indicates a pile of documents.
“This is the airport layout,” he says, pointing to a map, “and these are the various frequencies. Delta Tango Romeo is a standard Cessna 182 but fitted with long-range tanks, a three-blade prop and drooped wing tips. Avionics were recently upgraded. These are the aircraft handling notes, performance charts and weight and balance information. I’ll give you some time before we get started. While you are reading, I’ll have a look at your log book.”
Alexander makes coffee while Jed studies the documents. As he discards them, Alexander picks them up and inspects them closely, running her finger carefully over the tables and graphs. When Jed finishes, she points to the weight and balance and performance graphs.
“In summer, with full tanks and some baggage, this plane would struggle to lift four people unless there was a long runway,” she announces decisively. “Air produces less lift as the temperature and altitude goes up.”
“You are right,” Jed says with open respect. Sharp as a tack but what else does he expect? He’s never met a non-pilot who could get anywhere near deciphering those charts. “Don’t under estimate the 182. It’s a fantastic aircraft and there are only two of us and it’s not summer. It has all the performance we will need, even with full tanks.”
“I don’t doubt it, I’m just interested in the science,” she replies, shooting him another teasing look.
Dan walks over to interrupt them and it is time to go. As they walk out to the aircraft, Jed gives a running commentary. “The 182 looks like the smaller 172. Both are four seaters but the 182 has two hundred and thirty horse power compared to one hundred and sixty in the 172. It’s bigger all round but not immediately obvious. If you climb in the back I’ll daily the aircraft.”
Alexander does as she is told for once and settles in, watching intently as Jed goes around the aircraft in a full circle, checking the propeller, oil, fuel, wheels, flaps, ailerons, elevators, rudder and everything else to ensure it will fly safely, then joins Dan in the cockpit. They strap in, plug in the headsets and Jed starts working through the pre-start checks aloud so that Dan can hear.
Once she puts on the headphones, Alexander enters a different world. She has many skills, has made smart investments in real estate and the stock market and considers herself as good as any man but is fascinated by what she sees transpiring between Dan and Jed. A relationship in which the younger man must evaluate the older, based on mutual respect forged in the unforgiving environment of aviation. She watches and listens carefully, taking everything in. She is enjoying the opportunity to place her trust in a man and to bury her learned distrust in eager anticipation.
“Control lock out, brakes off, fuel on, master on, magnetos on both, mixture rich, priming the engine,” Jed announces. “Throttle set and locked, prop clear,” he calls, looking left and right and then cranks the engine to fire it up, letting it settle on an idle of one thousand rpm. He turns the avionics master switch on, listening to the airport terminal information service (ATIS), and then calls up ground control.
“Delta Tango Romeo, three POB for Cox Peninsula, outbound two seven zero at four five zero zero, received information Sierra, request taxi clearance for runway one one.”
“Delta Tango Romeo, clear to taxi for the holding point for runway one one to await clearance,” a voice from the tower responds crisply.
“Delta Tango Romeo,” Jed confirms as he eases the throttle forward to begin taxiing to the holding point.
Alexander listens intently through the headphones, matching up what she hears with what she sees them doing in the cockpit. At the holding point, Jed holds the aircraft on the brakes to run through the pre-take off checks. She notes the precision with which everything is done and the relaxed but sharp observations by Dan.
Satisfied the aircraft is ready to fly, Jed keys the microphone, “Darwin Control, Delta Tango Romeo is ready.”
“Delta Tango Romeo, clear for take off, make a left turn and report on departure.”
“Delta Tango Romeo, left turn, report on departure,” he repeats as he taxies out to the runway and pushes the throttle forward. The aircraft accelerates smoothly. He applies slight back pressure to the control wheel to take the weight off the nose wheel, holding his left hand slightly down to raise the port aileron slightly into the breeze.
He runs an eye over the instruments. “Acceleration good, oil and temperature in the green,” while also pointing with his right hand so Dan can hear and see him doing his checks. At fifty knots he applies more back pressure until the aircraft flies off the ground and then holds eighty knots to maintain the climb attitude. At two hundred feet he puts his fingers on the flap lever and says aloud, “Flaps identified and up,” as he flicks the lever up. He adjusts the manifold pressure back to twenty-five inches and the rpm to two thousand five hundred rpm, trimming the aircraft to maintain the climb through the left turn out of the circuit area.
“Delta Tango Romeo departed two five, tracking two seven zero for Cox Peninsula on climb to four five zero zero,” Jed says crisply into the microphone, checking the cowl flaps are open to cool the engine on climb.
“That’s all good. Let’s enjoy the view for a while until we clear Darwin,” Dan suggests.
“This is the view Karl would have seen departing Darwin,” Jed says to Alexander as he gazes thoughtfully out the cockpit windows.
“Just what I was thinking,” Alexander responds as she scans both sides of the aircraft, casting her mind back to another time. “It’s beautiful.”
The curve of the land partly encloses the sweeping bay of blue that expands out into the ocean, stretching away to the horizon in varying shades. On the surface is etched a haphazard pattern of white, foamy lines marking the currents intertwined in a complex mix beneath the surface. At this time of the day, only a few scattered white puffy clouds decorate the sky. Cox Peninsula looms up quickly at their cruise speed of one hundred and forty knots. Entering the training area, Jed gives an all stations call to advise aircraft in the area they will be doing aerial work for the next twenty minutes.
After briefing Alexander on what to expect, they work through a series of steep turns and finish with a stall, pulling the power back and raising the nose until the airflow over the wings breaks down and the nose drops through the horizon.
“That’s a good recovery. Take us down to two thousand and I will show you the crash site of a World War II Liberator,” Dan commands.
Jed pulls the power back to one thousand eight hundred rpm and trims for a ninety knot descent, the engine still turning over to prevent shock cooling of the cylinders.
Dan notes this with approval, but says nothing.
“Just over there,” Dan points and, as Jed turns to look, he puts his hand on the throttle to pull the power right back. “Engine failure!” he announces. Dan has done what all instructors need to do—catch a pilot by surprise to see how they respond.
Jed keeps his finger off the mic button but responds with a simulated call over the radio. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, Delta Tango Romeo, engine failure, five miles west of Mandurah, three POB, forced landing.” He briefs his passengers and performs the routine checks—fuel, magnetos, mixture, throttle and fuel pump—while trimming the aircraft for best glide speed.
He scans the area for the best place for a forced landing. Everything is covered by trees so he makes a snap decision. “I’m going for the road.” There are power lines along the road but plenty of clearance, so he sets up a glide parallel to the road, turns ninety degrees as they pass through one thousand feet and then another ninety degrees to line up with the straight stretch of asphalt, checking there is no traffic in sight. His hand moves to the flap lever and then he sees the gates—a steel boom gate across the road, preventing access to the ABC short wave radio station.
“Would we make it over the gates?” Dan asks casually.
“I’m holding off the flaps, maintaining best glide speed ... let’s see ... flaps ready ... Yes! We’ll make it!” he confirms with relief as he drops some flap to provide more lift.
“Let’s make sure,” Dan replies calmly. “Keep her coming down.”
Alexander watches with mounting excitement as the aircraft continues to descend closer and closer to the ground with each passing second. A few more seconds confirms it. They will clear the boom gate and be able to land on the road.
“Go round!” Dan commands with authority.
Jed pushes the throttle forward and the engine roars into life. With careful back pressure on the control column, the aircraft begins to climb. He points to the climb indicator and says, “Positive rate of climb, flaps identified and up.” He raises them a few degrees at a time so as not to dump all the lift at once.
“I’m happy with that,” responds Dan casually. “Take us back.”
Jed trims the aircraft for the return to Darwin and Alexander enjoys the panorama once again as he talks to the tower and sets up the landing. She is seeing another side of Jed, carefully hidden beneath his laid-back style.
As Jed’s hand moves to the flap lever, she sees Dan stop him. “You have a flap failure and I want you on the piano keys,” Dan instructs.
Jed makes a turn into final approach, keeping the speed up an extra ten knots to make up for the lack of flaps and the extra lift they would have generated. With no flaps the approach is going to be high, so he pulls his left hand down, pushes right rudder to cross the controls and drops the nose to slip the aircraft sideways, washing off altitude until he has the correct approach angle.
Jed has no time to brief Alexander. He is unaware that her fingers are digging into the seat in response to the unusual sensations of the aircraft slipping down and sideways. Jed keeps the runway threshold steady in the windscreen, aiming at a spot just before the white painted markers on the tarmac that look like piano keys, adjusting descent with the throttle. He brings the aircraft in low over the fence and approaches the runway, centres the controls and gently raises the nose, slowly pulling the throttle back and letting the aircraft sink gently onto the runway. The Cessna kisses the tarmac only three metres past the markers.
“That’s good,” Dan judges. “Take us back in to the office.”
Jed opens the cowl flaps to cool the engine on the ground and makes a careful effort to taxi with the nose wheel on the centre line all the way back. Once on the apron he turns the aircraft into the wind and goes through the shutdown checks as he waits for Dan’s feedback.
Dan ponders in pregnant silence for a few seconds before relieving Jed’s tension. “You did well! I can pass you on that. Your checks are clear and concise, airspeed control is good and your landing profile is safe and accurate.”
“That was fun!” Jed replies, relieved it’s over. His armpits are damp from sweat. “Nothing like a good work out!”
He has been totally engrossed by the flight and ignorant of the drama he caused in the back seat and how Alexander’s trust is teetering on the edge of an abyss. “Are you bloody crazy? Next time you want to give someone heart failure, you can do it on your own time and using your own money!”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she was not happy with his brilliant flying skills.
They walk back to the office to debrief and finalise the paperwork before heading off for a well-earned coffee. Jed can sense Alexander is not her normal self but his empathy is constrained by the excitement of the flight. She must settle her demons alone.
“We have the rest of the day to kill,” Jed comments as he flicks through a tourist brochure. “Would you like to do something a bit different?” he asks carefully, sensitive to her mood.
“As long as it doesn’t include giving me another heart attack!” Alexander replies.
Women continue to mystify him. He is unsure whether he is forgiven for scaring her or if he should go and buy a Kevlar vest. He may need it for his next brilliant idea. Jed wisely doesn’t verbalise one of the things he imagines. “I’ve got a couple of things in mind. What do you think of this?” Tentatively, he lays a brochure in front of her.
“A shooting range! What makes you think I’d be interested in that?”
“You strike me as being open to a challenge. And after that we could go past the aviation museum where I can show you a B-25 being restored,” he smiles, keen to see how she responds in another totally new environment.
“So much for smelling the roses in Darwin! Okay, I’m game,” she replies. Picking up her bag she heads toward the door, her controlled walk giving her hips a slight but seductive sway.
Jed rises slowly, buying a few extra seconds so he can observe her, contemplating if it’s a natural movement or something she does deliberately. He gives up wondering and beats her to the car to open the door.
They turn right off the Stuart Highway and find the shooting complex in a plain, solid block building, discreetly identified by a sign—Advanced Shooting Academy. The office area boasts a long counter, with a young secretary standing behind it. She welcomes them with a friendly smile and hands over a folder. Each page has a picture of a handgun, some basic details and a price for a package of rounds. A range officer comes over to help with the selection of firearms.
Alexander flicks through the folder, finally stabbing her finger at a page. “That one!”
“Perhaps that’s a bit much to start with,” Jed suggests cautiously as he sees the range officer raise his eyebrows. “A .44 Magnum tends to bite a bit. How about the Smith and Wesson 686? You can use .38 special ammunition to start with and I’ll use .357 Magnum. After you’ve fired a few rounds you can put some .357 through it—they tend to kick a bit more and will give plenty of excitement.”
“You don’t think I am capable do you? Is it because I’m a woman? I have used a rifle before, you know.”
“Not at all, Alexander! Handguns are just hard to use. It’s not like the movies. In real life, a novice can easily miss a big target at only seven metres. Unless you have some experience, a handgun is just plain difficult to shoot well.”
“Okay, but I want to have a go at something with grunt!”
After a short inspection of the wall displays they enter an indoor range where two stainless steel Smith and Wesson revolvers are laid out in separate booths, with twelve rounds each. The stainless steel contrasts starkly with the black Pachmayr neoprene combat grips that allow a firm hold on the gun. Their range officer introduces himself as John, nickname Hammer, reason not explained, and gives them the standard safety briefing. He’s young, crew cut, tanned and muscular, with the confidence that comes from a military background.
Once cleared to load, Jed puts on the ear muffs, slips six rounds into the cylinder and snaps it shut. Hammer spends more time with Alexander getting her set up. Jed would have liked to guide her himself but has enough nous to leave it to the official expert. He takes a two-handed hold, adopts a comfortable standing position with his left leg toward the target, straightens his right arm with the left supporting the revolver, eases the hammer back and squeezes a shot onto the target. The muzzle blast is loud even with the ear protection and the barrel kicks up with a snap, but he brings it back onto the target smoothly. He clicks the hammer back with his thumb, fires again and moves the revolver into his left hand. Changing position with his right foot toward the target, Jed releases two fast shots. Back again to his right hand, he fires two quick rounds, double action. Placing the gun on the bench with the cylinder swung open, Jed calls, “Gun clear.” He hits the button to retrieve the target on a pulley system and is satisfied to see a group of six holes that can just be covered by a fifty cent piece.
“You’ve done this before. Less than twenty seconds start to finish!” calls Hammer. A statement, not a question.
“Once or twice,” replies Jed. Seeing Hammer’s quizzical expression, he decides to be more forthcoming. “I was state champion in Practical Pistol—house clearing, hostage rescue, obstacle courses. Owned a 686 and a few others but mostly used a Beretta 92SB in competition.”
Hammer visibly relaxes, realising he is talking to someone who knows what they are doing. “Nice gun, the Beretta. I’m currently using a Glock 40 for security work, pretty standard in the industry.”
Jed nods.
Hammer moves closer to Alexander to keep an eye on her. He gives her a briefing on how to hold the revolver tight into the web of her hand and sight the pistol, loading six rounds for her. She pulls the hammer back for single action firing as briefed, braces herself down onto the bench and squeezes off a shot. Without breaking concentration, she fires five more rounds, clearing the gun with confidence and retrieving the target.
“That’s terrible!” she groans, seeing the six holes spread vertically on the target.
“Relax,” Jed chips in after a glance at Hammer. “All your shots are on target with less than an inch horizontal movement. The vertical difference is because you’ve let the front sight move just slightly up and down. Keep it in the same place on the target and you will be a master.”
“That’s fucking brilliant… sorry, that’s very good,” Hammer confirms. “Your trigger pull is smooth and consistent. Have another go and control the front sight.”
This time she loads six rounds herself, takes a brace position and single actions them onto another target. This is proving to be a new and challenging experience, but she has a strong competitive streak. When the target is retrieved, the two men exchange glances and Jed offers his remaining six rounds of .357.
“That’s still not good enough,” Alexander spits out. “They’re all up to the right!” The holes are grouped into a circle less than six centimetres in diameter.
Jed and Hammer recognise a significance that escapes Alexander. “These will kick a bit more but that’s all—just do again exactly what you just did. Keep the same sight picture and squeeze the trigger,” Hammer encourages.
Alexander hits the switch to move the target back to the twenty-five metre range, loads the rounds and fires them off. She concentrates on the front sight and squeezes the trigger smoothly. This time Hammer hits the switch to retrieve the target—twelve holes are punched into the paper that can be covered by the same six centimetre circle.
“That’s appalling shooting!” complains Alexander. “Not one bullseye!”
Hammer and Jed exchange glances again. Hammer can’t help himself, blurting out, “Where’d you find her?”
“Off an internet dating site,” Jed responds.
“You’re wanking me!” Hammer says.
“Yeah, I am. She’s actually my boss.”
“You’re wanking me more!”
“No mate, I’m not. She is my boss.”
“Fuck! How do you get to work for someone like that?”
“
Just pot luck mate. She’s good, isn’t she! A real maverick!”
And one bloody hot woman as well
, Jed thinks secretly behind the walls no one has yet penetrated.
“What are you guys going on about?” Alexander demands as she clears the gun and drops her ear muffs.
“That’s fantastic shooting!” Jed offers. “Most of the guys I shoot with would hang up their guns if they saw a first timer do what you have just done!”
“Just natural talent!” Alexander smiles.
“Okay Hammer, you better tell her,” Jed suggests. “She might believe you more than me.”
Hammer steps toward Alexander and points to the target. “You just put six rounds of .38 Special and six rounds of .357 Magnum into a circle about six centimetres diameter at twenty-five metres. That’s fantastic! The whole group is a bit to the right of centre and slightly high, but that’s only a matter of adjusting the sights one or two clicks to the left. Everyone holds a gun differently so it has to be fine tuned. The group you shot shows that your sight picture, trigger pull and grip are consistent. That’s what handgun shooting is all about. You are very, very good lady and it takes a lot to impress me!” Reaching into his pocket, he puts another three rounds on the bench. “Try another three, no charge.” He picks up the Smith and Wesson and adjusts the rear sight two clicks to the left and one click down.
When Alexander picks up the revolver there is a change in her whole demeanour. It isn’t just confidence, but a determination of mind and body that radiate something Jed can’t put his finger on. He watches as she slips the rounds into the cylinder, flicks it shut and without help lines up the cylinder with the first round just to the right of the hammer so it will be in line with the firing pin when she pulls the trigger.
Jed and Hammer swap yet another wordless glance.
As she takes up a firing position, Jed moves sideways for a better view and is perplexed by the expression on her face. He is no stranger to defending himself and the expression on her face gets his full attention. He watches intently as she takes command of the revolver to place three shots onto the target, pulling the hammer back each time with her thumb.
This time Alexander retrieves the target for them to inspect.
“One in the bull, two in the nine ring. A four centimetre group. With a .357 Magnum! Fuck!” Hammer spits with astonished respect.
Jed watches the play of emotions on Alexander’s face, from genuine pleasure to grim satisfaction and something else that would be frightening if it was directed at him. He has a gut feeling that this time she had not been seeing a paper target! “If I’m ever in trouble, you can be my wingman anytime Alexander,” he offers with a smile.
“Thanks for the experience, I enjoyed that!” she responds and her smile washes away any sign of the grim determination so recently clouding her features.
Hammer organises the gear as they prepare to leave and offers Jed his card. “If you’re around I’d like to catch up.”
“That’d be great!” Jed responds as they return to the foyer. He offers a card and his hand to Hammer and they shake firmly.
As they turn, Alexander stands waiting with her hand out to Hammer offering her own card. “Is this just a boy’s thing or can the girls join in too?” she asks, with a hint of challenge and a dose of playfulness.
“Anytime mate, and Jed is welcome too,” Hammer responds, taking her card with a big smile. “Better make sure you never piss her off Jed!” he adds with a chuckle.
Jed responds with a wave,
Another man mesmerised by this unusual woman. So it’s not just me!
He has seen yet another side of Alexander and can’t help wondering what happened in her life to shape her complex personality.
Back at the car Jed opens the driver’s door for her. “Turn right and then right again onto the Stuart Highway and we can have a look at the aviation museum,” he suggests as they pass the few vehicles in the car park. One is a well set-up Nissan Patrol with all the expected after market gear, a machine as good as the Landcruiser for the Top End country.
Someone’s got money to play with
, he thinks, giving it a respectful appraisal before climbing into the ‘cruiser.