AIRFRAME （ISBN=9780345402875）

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国际标准书号ISBN：9780345402875
出版社:Random House US

编辑推荐

　　Three passengers are dead. Fifty-six are injured. The interior cabin virtually destroyed. But the pilot manages to land the plane. . . .
　　At a moment when the issue of safety and death in the skies is paramount in the public mind, a lethal midair disaster aboard a commercial twin-jet airliner bound from Hong Kong to Denver triggers a pressured and frantic investigation.
　　AIRFRAME is nonstop reading: the extraordinary mixture of super suspense and authentic information on a subject of compelling interest that has been a Crichton landmark since The Andromeda Strain.
　　

作者简介

　　Michael Crichton was born in Chicago, in 1942. His novels include The Andromeda Strain, The Great Train Robbery, Congo, Jurassic Park, Rising Sun, Disclosure, and The Lost World. He is also the creator of the television series ER.

媒体评论

　　This thriller's central mystery and peripheral skulduggery are routine, but the TV-journalism satire is fresh and funny. --

在线试读部分章节

　　Airframe Chapter 3
　　　LAX
　　5:57 a.m.
　　　Daniel Greene was the duty officer at the FAA Flight StandardsDistrict Office on Imperial Highway, half a mile from LAX. Thelocal FSDOs--or Fizdos, as they were called--supervised the flightoperations of commercial carriers, checking everything fromaircraft maintenance to pilot training. Greene had come in early toclear the paper off his desk; his secretary had quit the weekbefore, and the office manager refused to replace her, citingorders from Washington to absorb attrition. So now Greene went towork, muttering. Congress was slashing the FAA budget, telling themto do more with less, pretending the problem was productivity andnot workload. But passenger traffic was up four percent a year, andthe commercial fleet wasn't getting younger. The combination madefor a lot more work on the ground. Of course, the FSDOs weren't theonly ones who were strapped. Even the NTSB was broke; the SafetyBoard only got a million dollars a year for aircraft accidents,and--
　　　The red phone on his desk rang, the emergency line. He picked itup; it was a woman at traffic control.
　　　"We've just been informed of an incident on an inbound foreigncarrier," she said.
　　　"Uh-huh." Greene reached for a notepad. "Incident" had aspecific meaning to the FAA, referring to the lower category offlight problems that carriers were required to report. "Accidents"involved deaths or structural damage to the aircraft and werealways serious, but with incidents, you never knew. "Goahead."
　　　"It's TransPacific Flight 545, incoming from Hong Kong toDenver. Pilot's requested emergency landing at LAX. Says theyencountered turbulence during flight."
　　　"Is the plane airworthy?"
　　　"They say it is," Levine said. "They've got injuries, andthey've requested forty ambulances."

Airframe Chapter 3 
　　　LAX 
　　5:57 a.m. 
　　　Daniel Greene was the duty officer at the FAA Flight Standards
District Office on Imperial Highway, half a mile from LAX. The
local FSDOs--or Fizdos, as they were called--supervised the flight
operations of commercial carriers, checking everything from
aircraft maintenance to pilot training. Greene had come in early to
clear the paper off his desk; his secretary had quit the week
before, and the office manager refused to replace her, citing
orders from Washington to absorb attrition. So now Greene went to
work, muttering. Congress was slashing the FAA budget, telling them
to do more with less, pretending the problem was productivity and
not workload. But passenger traffic was up four percent a year, and
the commercial fleet wasn't getting younger. The combination made
for a lot more work on the ground. Of course, the FSDOs weren't the
only ones who were strapped. Even the NTSB was broke; the Safety
Board only got a million dollars a year for aircraft accidents,
and-- 
　　　The red phone on his desk rang, the emergency line. He picked it
up; it was a woman at traffic control. 
　　　"We've just been informed of an incident on an inbound foreign
carrier," she said. 
　　　"Uh-huh." Greene reached for a notepad. "Incident" had a
specific meaning to the FAA, referring to the lower category of
flight problems that carriers were required to report. "Accidents"
involved deaths or structural damage to the aircraft and were
always serious, but with incidents, you never knew. "Go
ahead." 
　　　"It's TransPacific Flight 545, incoming from Hong Kong to
Denver. Pilot's requested emergency landing at LAX. Says they
encountered turbulence during flight." 
　　　"Is the plane airworthy?" 
　　　"They say it is," Levine said. "They've got injuries, and
they've requested forty ambulances." 
　　　"Forty?" 
　　　"They've also got two stiffs." 
　　　"Great." Greene got up from his desk. "When's it due in?" 
　　　"Eighteen minutes." 
　　　"Eighteen minutes--Jeez, why am I getting this so late?" 
　　　"Hey, the captain just told us, we're telling you. I've notified
EMS and alerted the fire crews." 
　　　"Fire crews? I thought you said the plane's okay." 
　　　"Who knows?" the woman said. "The pilot is not making much
sense. Sounds like he might be in shock. We hand off to the tower
in seven minutes." 
　　　"Okay," Greene said. "I'm on my way." 
　　　He grabbed his badge and his cell phone and went out the door.
As he passed Karen, the receptionist, he said, "Have we got anybody
at the international terminal?" 
　　　"Kevin's there." 
　　　"Beep him," Greene said. "Tell him to get on TPA 545, inbound
Hong Kong, landing in fifteen. Tell him to stay at the gate--and
don't let the flight crew leave." 
　　　"Got it," she said, reaching for the phone. 
　　　Greene roared down Sepulveda Boulevard toward the airport. Just
before the highway ran beneath the runway, he looked up and saw the
big TransPacific Airlines widebody, identifiable by its bright
yellow tail insignia, taxiing toward the gate. TransPacific was a
Hong Kong-based charter carrier. Most of the problems the FAA had
with foreign airlines occurred with charters. Many were low-budget
operators that didn't match the rigorous safety standards of the
scheduled carriers. But TransPacific had an excellent
reputation. 
　　　At least the bird was on the ground, Greene thought. And he
couldn't see any structural damage to the widebody. The plane was
an N-22, built by Norton Aircraft in Burbank. The plane had been in
revenue service five years, with an enviable dispatch and safety
record. 
　　　Greene stepped on the gas and rushed into the tunnel, passing
beneath the giant aircraft. 
　　　He sprinted through the international building. Through the
windows, he saw the TransPacific jet pulled up to the gate, and the
ambulances lined up on the concrete below. The first of them was
already driving out, its siren whining. 
　　　Greene came to the gate, flashed his badge, and ran down the
ramp. Passengers were disembarking, pale and frightened. Many
limped, their clothes torn and bloody. On each side of the ramp,
paramedics clustered around the injured. 
　　　As he neared the plane, the nauseating odor of vomit grew
stronger. A frightened TransPac stewardess pushed him back at the
door, chattering at him rapidly in Chinese. He showed her his badge
and said, "FAA! Official business! FAA!" The stewardess stepped
back, and Greene slid past a mother clutching an infant and stepped
into the plane. 
　　　He looked at the interior, and stopped. "Oh my God," he said
softly. "What happened to this plane?" 
　　　 
　　From the Hardcover edition.

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