22
Richie did his best to fly by the seat of his pants, because Melissa was doing something that kept scrambling the screens in front of him. Every time he thought he had figured out something, there would be a blink and the information was gone. She was using that joystick control which must be the display commander. Hopefully it didn’t also have a James Bond ejection seat switch or he was in trouble.
Airspeed here—then over there. Engine temperature—not quite redline but gone before he could see if it was stable or getting worse.
He took to watching out the window.
They were already over the mountains of the Venezuelan coast. This bird was fast. Minutes later they flew over Lake Maracaibo and were were toward the Caribbean and Central America. Still no mid-sized jet out ahead of them
