Valentine's Dinner?

37. Oh, God!

Valerie stood in shocked silence, staring at Patrick. Finally, she asked, "How long have you been trying?"

"I've just returned from a day on the Clifton beaches. Garth and Jack have been trying to find a way to contact you for the past two hours."

"Who are they?"

"The pilots. They didn't know how to get in touch with you."

Valerie nodded. "Yeah! We missed setting up essential communications details, didn't we? So, what do you think has happened?"

"They're still trying to find out."

"What do they know so far?"

"Mr Benton didn't answer his phone when they tried to confirm our departure time. He always contacts them three or four hours in advance."

"He's not answered my texts, and he's always so quick."

"Do you know where he would have gone?"

"By helicopter to Franschhoek." Valerie turned and pointed toward the terrace. "One of the companies on East Pier."

"I'll call Garth and tell him." He pulled out his phone, entered and tapped an icon, and a few seconds later, he began speaking into it. "She's not heard either. He was going by chopper to Franschhoek. Using one of the companies on East Pier."

Patrick listened, then replied. "Good. I'll stay here with the women until I hear from you." He paused again to listen. "At the One&Only. Her name is Redburn."

Chloe cuddled beside her mother, watching Patrick finish the call. "I'm concerned, Mummy."

"As am I." Valerie blew out a deep breath. "But worrying won't get anything done."

"So, what can we do?"

Valerie shrugged, then looked across the room to the dining table. "We could start by finishing our pizza; we'll likely need the energy." She turned to Patrick. "Have you eaten anything?"

"No, Ma'am. I was waiting until aboard."

"We've plenty here."

They sat eating with little enthusiasm, silent until Patrick said, "He's always so dependable with his communication. Always lets us know any changes well in advance."

"And this is a change in schedule?"

"We were to be cleared through Customs and aboard by ten thirty for an eleven o'clock departure. Garth expected a call by seven thirty."

Valerie thumbed her phone. "Now past ten."

They continued with the cold pizza, their silence broken by Patrick's phone. He picked it up and answered, his face distorting as he listened. "What channel?" He nodded in silence, then said, "We'll watch." He turned to Valerie. "The TV, eNCA — Channel 403."

Chloe rushed across to the buffet, picked up the remote and clicked on the TV, examined the keypad and entered the channel. They all focused on the huge flatscreen.

...search has been called off for the night and will resume 
at first light. This is Klaas Koolsdorf reporting live from 
Franschhoek. Back to you, Cathy. 
Thank you, Klaas. Now on to other top stories...

"Oh, God!" Valerie looked at Patrick still on his phone. "Him, isn't it? His helicopter."

Patrick nodded, sticking a finger up as he listened to his phone, then he spoke. "I'll ask." He pulled the phone away from his ear. "Garth thinks it's best he and Jack come over here. Coordinate our efforts."

"Yeah. Let's do that," Valerie said with a trembling voice as she fought tears.

Chloe stepped across the room and wrapped her mother in a hug. "It's alright if you cry, Mummy. I already am."

Patrick kept the phone to his ear for a long while, his expression running the range from puzzled to disgusted. After a prolonged silence, he mumbled into the phone, "Yeah. See you shortly."

Valerie had watched him, and when he clicked off the conversation, she asked, "So, what's the story?"

"The pilot declared a mayday fourteen minutes into the flight. Engine failure. In autorotation over —"

"Autorotation?

"The automatic switch of the rotor to free-wheeling. It acts much like a parachute, slowing the descent."

"Enough?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes, it is. It's the standard safety procedure, and all pilots must be proficient with it to be certified. We regularly performed them for training in the Air Force."

"Hard landings?"

"With practice, they can be as gentle as a normal landing."

Valerie let out a deep sigh. "You were in the Air Force? A pilot?"

"For six years. Fixed wing and rotary."

"So, they'd be okay, then?"

"If the pilot could find an open, level, flat landing place within his glide range."

Valerie caught Patrick's wince. "Where were they?"

"Crossing the Drakensteinberge Mountains, between Stellenbosch and Franschhoek."

"Oh, God!"

"The radio went dead after the mayday. Neither ATC nor the company has been able to raise them since."

"Emergency beacon transmitter?"

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair. "Their ELT is the old Class B model. Transmits on 121.5, not on 406. Satellites stopped monitoring that frequency a few years ago."

"So, it's illegal?"

"No, they're still allowed. Location is through triangulation from two or more signal receipts. The company had three of their helicopters flying a search grid until dark."

"How rough is the terrain?"

"I'm not familiar with it. Could be rolling hills."

"I can look it up on Google Earth, Mummy."

"Yeah, we need to do something other than standing here and stewing. Worrying won't get us anywhere."

Two minutes later, Chloe turned her screen so her mother could see it. "They're real mountains, Mummy, not just hills."

Valerie put her hand to her mouth as she stared at the image. Oh, God!