Close Doesn't Cut It

By Mark W. Danielson

Airline travel can be interesting. At times, I have to ride in the back to start a trip away from my home base. Recently, I met an interesting man I’ll call Ray on such a flight out of Denver. His story reiterates that everyone has at least one story to tell, and this one’s a doozy. It begins with him flying aboard United Express from Denver to Durango. Unfortunately, his plane never arrived.
Before I delve into his story, I should present two sides of the much debated issue on pilot qualifications. Ray’s incident occurred over thirty years ago, but little has changed within the industry since then. The fact remains that the most experienced pilots fly for the major airlines while the lesser experienced pilots fly commuters, hoping to one day fly for the majors. Co-pilot/first officers with minimal experience must still pass the same check rides as those with the major airlines. Having said that, not all pilots are created equal.

Now, back to the story. At the time, United Express was flying a twin-engine propeller airplane called the Convair 580, which was a solid design and carried approximately sixty people. There were approximately forty people aboard Ray’s flight. En route, the plane developed a fuel problem that affected one of the engines. For whatever reason, the co-pilot never looked up the procedure. Instead, she and the captain winged it, but guessed wrong, which resulted in an engine fire. During the process of mishandling their emergency, the crew shut down the good engine. Soon after, the plane crash-landed in a corn field. Remarkably, no one was killed. Even more remarkable was the flight crew deserted their passengers and escaped through the cockpit windows.

Ray and a fellow co-worker were seated in the very back of the plane, so when the plane came to rest, they opened the rear doors to escape. However, since the nose wheel broke off, the tail was too high to evacuate through these exits. When Ray turned around, he was astonished to see all of the passengers still strapped in their seats as though in a trance. Seeing fuel leaking from the aircraft and fearing the plane would soon burst in flames, Ray and his co-worker took it upon themselves to evacuate everyone from the aircraft. Neither Ray nor his co-worker received any recognition for their efforts. Instead, Ray endured years of pain before he received word that he had broken his back in the crash. It took five years for the airline to reimburse Ray’s company for his injuries. Ironically, the airline’s most damning evidence that won Ray’s law suit was the partial refund he received for his flight. You see, it was pro-rated from Denver to the point short of the original destination, AKA, the cornfield.

Compare this to US Airways Captain “Sully” Sullenberger and his crew who did everything right when they ditched their Airbus in then Hudson River. I’d like to think that every crew would handle an emergency as well. The bottom line is the captain is always responsible for the safety of his/her passengers and crew, regardless of the circumstances. That responsibility comes with wearing four stripes.

Some might want to compare Ray’s experience to the recent commuter crash in Buffalo. In this case, the first officer was relatively new and the captain made some poor decisions. While it is easy to draw parallels between these crashes, every emergency is unique. Following the Buffalo crash, the FAA has been considering numerous rule changes that would reduce pilot fatigue. While I would like to think Ray’s United Express crew did some jail time, the reality is they probably just lost their jobs. It’s also important to realize that millions of people fly every year without incident, thus mishaps such as those I’ve described are extremely rare. These days, pilot jobs are so competitive that weak performance is not tolerated. I wouldn’t hesitate to fly on any commercial airliner, regardless of its size. Having said that, getting people close to their destination doesn’t count as an on-time arrival. Fly safe.

What's Up, Let's Argue About It

By Chester Campbell

Last week my colleague Beth Terrell mentioned the challenges involved in the care and feeding of mystery writers. No one knows that better than my wife, Sarah. We always travel together. At our age, you never know how many trips remain in your life's itinerary. But it does make for interesting travels.

Last weekend we drove to Frankfort, KY for the annual Kentucky Book Fair. We alternate driving about 100 miles at a time. Sarah decided to take the first turn, which was a good thing, since that avoided an early argument. I had set up the destination in our Magellan GPS, but it required a few screen taps to get what I wanted it to show--miles to destination. She objects when I start tapping while I'm driving. Really! It's not like I'm texting.

We usually start a trip with a large cup of our favorite beverage, cappuccino. Not the noisy machine-made stuff you get at a coffee shop but the powder and hot water variety that comes from pushing a button at a convenience market. We make it at home using a large container from Sam's. At any rate, we found a Love's up in southern Kentucky and took a pit stop/cappuccino break. I've had a tooth that's been giving me a fit lately (and is scheduled for a root canal tomorrow), so she had to find me a straw, which I used to keep the hot stuff directed away from the recalcitrant molar. I'm not much of a talker normally, even less with dental dynamite going off in my mouth.

I took the wheel at a rest stop shortly before we turned off I-65 on a segment of the Kentucky Turnpike. When we got back on the interstate, Miss Floosie, the GPS lady, didn't come on so I started punching the screen.

"You drive, I'll do that," Sarah said with her best frown.

We probably have more arguments about my driving than anything. Since I have macular degeneration in my right eye, she thinks I can't see well. I had just been to the ophthalmologist, who said I was doing marvelous, that I was one of two or three patients she had where the AMD apparently was slowed by the effects of severe nearsightedness. So some bad things are good.

But that doesn't give me any free passes with my wife. When I turn too sharply and bump a curb, she says, "Didn't you see that?" Of course, I saw it. I just like to jostle her around a bit.

Eventually we made it to the Frankfort Convention Center and dropped off the books I had brought. I got lots of directions for where I should be turning but didn't.

We stayed at the Capital Plaza Hotel just across from the Convention Center. It was a nice room, and we crashed for a couple of hours before time for the Author Reception at Frankfort Country Club. At this event, we sat at a large round table where more folks gathered. Sarah talked to her neighbor and passed around my promo folders. I mostly nursed my food in an attempt to keep the tooth gremlin at bay. I did talk to a mother-daughter combination on my left, learning the younger one had once lived in Nashville and knew about the Marathon Motor works (subject of The Marathon Murders). Both of them bought books on Saturday.

With my chronic cough affecting my voice and the tooth affecting everything, Sarah came to my rescue during the signing, greeting people who passed the table. When she sold a book, I autographed it with a painted on smile. We wound up selling 33 books, which wasn't bad but under different economic conditions surely would have been better.

The trip back home brought more driving discussions, but we made it safely. I'll have to say my wife is a real trooper. She saves the day when I'm selling books, and she does her best to keep me on my toes. We do a lot of arguing, but it always ends with a laugh. As long as we find our disagreements amusing, I guess we'll be okay. I feel that for a much-traveled mystery writer, I'm well fed and cared for.

Fort Hood Shootings Weaponry

by Ben Small

Pat Browning asked some good questions via email about the Fort Hood shootings: How could so many bullets be fired by one person, and how many bullet hits can a body withstand without perishing?

The reports I've seen indicate that Maj. Nidal Malik Hasan was carrying an FN Five-Seven pistol and a .357 revolver. All rounds he fired came from the FN, a semi-automatic pistol which fires a 5.7x28mm cartridge, often called "the cop killer," because some forms of the round have been known to pierce a bulletproof vest.

Lee Lofland hit the nail on the head when he said Hasan intended suicide-by-cop. It's a phenomenon we're seeing quite often these days, where someone is too cowardly to pull the trigger on himself, or maybe is hopes to avoid a life insurance suicide exception, so he decides to let someone else do the job for him, and wants to make a public statement at the same time.

I'm sure there will be further investigation as to Hasan's motives, and I'll let the professionals handle that aspect. But I'd like to make a few comments about the cartridge and the gun Hasan used. I don't own one, but know the former CEO of FNH USA, have discussed the pistol with him, and I have friends who own FN Five-Sevens. I've shot them, and plan eventually to own one. This shooting will not deter me. It's an outstanding weapon.

The cartridge fired by the FN Five-Seven is the 5.7x28mm, a cartridge developed originally in the late 1980s for a personal defense weapon, FN's P-90. The cartridge is really more like a rifle cartridge than a pistol cartridge, much like the .22 Hornet. Here are pictures of the 5.7X28 mm cartridge and the standard 9x19mm Parabellum ("9mm) cartridge. The differences are self-evident.



The 5.7x28mm cartridge weighs roughly half as much as a typical 9mm cartridge, allowing extra ammunition to be carried easily. It also produces roughly 30% less recoil, improving control. It's a high velocity cartridge and features a high ballistic co-efficient, which means it's not only fast but accurate. And the lack of recoil means the gun stays on target, allowing for faster follow-up shots. It's a small, very pointed bullet, which means it will sometimes, in some forms, pass through a so-called "bulletproof" vest. That's why some versions are called "the cop-killer. In fairness, however, it should be noted that the armor-piercing version is only offered to the military and law enforcement, not commercial users. The ATF classifies the commercial versions of this round as "not-armor-piercing."

The FN Five-Seven pistol was designed to take advantage of this cartridge's favorable ballistic characteristics, primarily for military and police work, but it's also available commercially. The FN Five-Seven carries twenty rounds in its magazine, conceals well, and eleven round extensions are available, so it's possible to have thirty-one rounds available -- one in the chamber -- with just one magazine. Assume Hasan had extra magazines available and one can understand how some witnesses estimated a hundred rounds were shot in total. Hasan could have had ninety-one rounds available with just three magazines. Add in the shots fired by police, and the total approximates the round estimates from witness statements.

The FN Five-Seven has found more acceptance internationally than in the U.S. Cops and the U.S military don't like the round because of concerns for excess penetration, given the bullet's high speed and small size. One bullet can hit numerous targets. And the pistol has not been popular commercially because of high cost, both for the pistol and the ammunition. Plus, local gun stores don't usually carry the ammo; you'll probably have to order the round over the internet from large ammo dealers like Cabelas, Cheaper Than Dirt or Midway USA.

But to shoot one of these guns is to want one. The combination of low weight, accuracy and magazine count makes this pistol fun at the range. You won't believe how good your target looks. If you're shooting a beer round, make sure you choose this pistol for your turn.

So Hasan was able to put a lot of rounds downrange in a hurry, and with the penetration capabilities of the round, it's very possible numerous targets were hit with just one bullet. On the other hand, since the bullet itself is very small (only forty grains), its lethality is not assured unless a major organ is struck.

Hasan himself was struck several times but lived. How is this possible? Pat asked. Well, it depends on where he was hit and by what. The usual police carry gun is the 9mm or .40 S&W. The standard U.S. military gun is the Beretta, a 9mm pistol. Its adoption in the 80s was controversial, as the 9mm too is a small bullet. A famous shootout in the 80s in Miami between some bank robbers and the FBI left a number of Febs dead or wounded, as their 9mm weapons and some tactical mistakes allowed the wounded bad guys to keep shooting their much higher powered weapons. This event led to the development of the 10mm cartridge, now used almost exclusively by hunters. The 10mm cartridge proved to be too powerful, i.e. too much penetration, so the cartridge was cut down to a smaller size: the .40 S&W cartridge. A 10mm pistol will shoot the .40 S&W cartridge, but a .40 S&W cannot shoot the 10mm cartridge. A 10mm cartridge will not fit in the cylinder of a .40 S&W gun.

I suspect the shooting officer was firing a 9mm Beretta. If she had used a .40 S&W or the even larger .45 acp, it's more likely Hasan would have been incapacitated sooner. A .45 acp round will cause massive damage. It's about mass. Get hit with a .45, and more than likely, your involvement in the shooting is over. Get hit in the arm, and you'll likely lose that arm. The leg, and you'll likely bleed to death. The same cannot be said of the 9mm cartridge. With that cartridge, it's all about placement. No wonder our military don't like the 9mm cartridge; no wonder officers often opt for a .45 acp 1911.

I also don't know if our heroine, Sergeant Munley, was using a fully jacketed round or a hollow point. I'd guess a fully jacketed round, because that's the standard military round, whereas police generally prefer a hollow point bullet because of the risk of collateral damage with a fully jacketed round, which will pass through a human body. But I don't know this, and I could be wrong. Regardless, the lethality of what she was shooting would depend both on the bullet and where Hasan was hit. And those are facts I do not know.

It's interesting to note that Hasan did not shoot his .357 magnum revolver. That's because it only holds five, six or seven rounds, depending on model, and reloading would take awhile even with a speed loader. With the Five-Seven, however, Hasan just drops the mag, slaps in another, racks the slide, and he's back to shooting again. A new mag might take as little as a second-and-a-half to load.

Regardless, please don't forget: Guns don't shoot people; people shoot people. This guy was intent on killing people and having the cops kill him, and he could have chosen any number of means to achieve his purpose. He probably had access to shotguns, flame throwers and other weaponry, and he targeted a place where he could access a number of folks in a short period where they had no ability to escape. I believe I read Hasan also had available a number of Improvised Explosive Devices ("IEDs). He just happened to choose the FN Five-Seven pistol for his malevolence.

Meatballs and Terra Cotta Soldiers

The Great Wall. My husband and I roamed through China in 1989.

By Pat Browning


Making meatballs, thinking about Xi’an. Not that there’s a connection, although the old Silk Road traders probably roasted bits of yak over open fires. They didn’t have grinders to make yak meatballs. Or maybe they did. People were surprisingly clever 2,000 years ago.


National Geographic will exhibit several of Xi’an’s terra cotta soldiers in Washington, D. C. from November through March 31. They’re worth seeing. Aside from their historical value, they are simply beautiful. From The Washington Post:


QUOTE
The discovery of the Terra Cotta Warriors sent thrills through the archaeology community and the complex where they were found is a World Heritage Site, protected forever.


It was in 1974 that a group of farmers, digging a well outside the town of Xi'an in central China, discovered the tomb of Qin Shihuangdi, who ruled the country from 221 to 210 B.C. It had been underground for more than 2,000 years. As they excavated, Chinese archaeologists discovered a vault with thousands of figures, including 2,000 soldiers, 100 chariots, 400 horses and 300 cavalry horses. It is estimated that 700,000 workers participated in building the underground complex, an effort that lasted more than 36 years. The warrior sculptures were lined up in formation, arranged to protect the emperor in the afterlife.
END QUOTE


You can read the story and watch a video of the soldiers being unpacked at
http://tinyurl.com/ylje2rx.

This was no dinky project. There’s also the story that those thousands of life-sized soldiers and horses were to fool and discourage any spies who might be snooping from a distance. Probably both stories are true – protection in this world and the next.

Xi'an's terra cotta soldiers, on guard for more than 2,000 years.

So, farmers digging a well in 1974 discovered them. I came along with a tour group 25 years later and saw them in the excavation pits. I was the only one of my tour group to visit the pits. Everyone else was back at the hotel, sick in bed. China is a tough trip.


My husband didn’t stir from bed all day. That night, the front desk sent up two doctors who didn’t speak English. When body language couldn’t make them understand that the patient needed a laxative and was allergic to penicillin, the hotel manager was called to translate. He was from Hong Kong, so he had no problem with English. The tab for consultation and medication was about $26.


By the time we got to Wuxi three days later, several group members went straight to bed. An English-speaking doctor made the rounds, giving injections about every six hours at $5 a pop. According to the doctor, the medicine was “western” for younger patients, and “eastern,” meaning herbs, for older ones.


Whatever it was, it got everyone up and about for three days in Shanghai and the flight home, but just barely. Some of our people were sick for weeks afterward. My only problem was that I smelled that wretched red Chinese sauce all the way from Shanghai to Los Angeles. Other than its famous, or infamous, red sauce, I loved Shanghai.


But Xi’an was the place that captured my imagination. I had a few déjà vu moments. I like to think in another life, Xi’an was my jumping off place for a trip on the old Silk Road. I’m the wandering type. The old Silk Road would have been just my cup of tea. Or yak milk.

Old city wall of Xi'an


As if reading my mind, Google took me to the American Museum of Natural History web site. AMNH recently announced a “Traveling the Silk Road” exhibition Nov. 14-Aug.15, 2010. From the press release:


“This intriguing exhibition brings to life one of the greatest trading routes in human history, showcasing the goods, cultures, and technologies from four representative cities: Xi’an, China’s Tang Dynasty capital; Turfan, a verdant oasis and trading outpost; Samarkand, home of prosperous merchants who thrived on the caravan trade; and Baghdad, a fertile hub of commerce and scholarship that became the intellectual center of the era.”


Ah, Xi’an. I could write a book just on the Jianguo Hotel in Xi’an. It’s doing beautifully now. Its listing on the Internet says:


“Each of the 800 rooms at this 4-star hotel have all the comforts and conveniences of home. Hair dryer, air conditioning, in-room movies, tea/coffeemaker, minibar are among the amenities guests will find in every room. In addition, this property in Xian has cocktail lounge, dry cleaning and laundry, conference rooms, business center, restaurants. For the enjoyment of guests interested in sports or leisure, there are sauna, massage, indoor pool, fitness center on the grounds. Guests seeking that perfect blend of attentive care and modern convenience will find it at this lovely hotel.”


I don’t doubt a word of it, but when we checked in that Easter Sunday of 1989 we waited in the lobby for four hours while they finished our rooms. I use the word “finished” loosely. Upstairs, we found hot water but no electricity. Some toilets didn’t flush. In one room the window had no pane. During our 2-night stay the hammering in our wing seldom stopped. Even so, we loved the hotel because the service was superb. Translation: they waited on us hand and foot.


China is so old, so historic, and so cultured, it sometimes seems as if everything began there. I’ve always wondered about the origin of the American Indian. I lean toward the theory that they came from China, across an ice bridge to the American continent.


But then there’s a language study that has early East Coast Indians speaking with a Portuguese accent. Well, why not? The Portuguese were formidable wayfarers once upon a time. And there are those who believe American Indians are descended from the Lost Tribe of Israel. Will we ever know?


Closer to home tonight, the baked meatballs are delicious. I ate a couple for a bedtime snack, and put the rest in the freezer.

Irish/Italian Leukemia Cure

by Jean Henry Mead

The Emerald Isle has been known for many things, including whiskey, the Blarney stone, poetry and literature. But this week, the online news magazine, Irish Central, announced that researchers at Dublin’s Trinity College, along with colleagues in Belfast and Sienna, Italy, teamed up to develop a cure for a common strain of Leukemia.

The research project, funded by the Irish Cancer Society, has proven that Pyrrolo-1.5-benzoxazepine-15 (PBOX-15) kills previously resistant strains of leukemia. Researchers in Dublin’s neighboring city of Cork also announced that curry can kill esophageal cancer cells, a fact known for years by doctors practicing alternative medicine in this country, much of which is outlawed.

Professor Mark Lawler of the Trinity School of Medicine in Dublin said, “This important discovery is the result of a truly collaborative approach, involving researchers across the different disciplines of chemistry, biochemistry and molecular medicine at TCD, together with our colleagues in Sienna and Belfast. The complimentary expertise allowed us to approach the problem of killing CLL cells from a number of angles.”

Lawler also said that the PBOX-15 drug kills resistant cancer cells by breaking them down and killing them when they become resistant to fludarbine, a chemical most often used to fight leukemia.

John McCormick, head of Ireland’s Cancer Society, said his organization "is proud to have funded this high quality research. The society is the largest voluntary funder of cancer research in Ireland and one of our objectives is to fund researchers that will ultimately develop new and better treatments for cancer patients. . . These findings now need to be brought from the laboratory to the bedside so they will ultimately benefit patients with this common form of leukemia.”

Meanwhile, at the University of Cork, researchers revealed that turmeric, the spice used to make curry, has molecules that kill esophageal cancer cells. They also announced that the chemical curcumin, which is found in turmeric, starts destroying throat cancer cells within the first 24 hours of treatment. Their findings were published recently in the British Journal of Cancer.

Nearly 17,000 cases of esophageal cancer will have been diagnosed in the U.S. by the end of this year and some 14,530 victims will die of the disease, according to the American Cancer Society. The number of cases is Ireland averages 350.

Because I’ve lost four members of my immediate family to cancer, I’ve done considerable research of my own. Exercise and deep breathing exercises retard the growth of cancer cells while sugar feeds them. Three cups of green tea daily help to prevent cancer growth as does regular meals containing broccoli, cabbage or cauliflower. Half a cup of low fat cottage cheese as well as daily doses of wheat germ and flax seed sprinkled on cereal or salads have also been known to reduce or prevent cancer cell growth. Blueberries, raspberries and alkaline based drinking water, as opposed to acidic, have also been reported as cancer preventers.

The chemotherapy patient survival rate has been reported variously from 9-20% in this country, so those diagnosed with the disease should do copious research of their own to complement standard methods of treatment.

Love and the Mystery Writer

By Beth Terrell

I'm writing this post from Brewster Massachusetts, very near Cape Cod. I'm here for a writer's weekend workshop. I'll write about the workshop next week, since it doesn't actually start until tomorrow. I bring it up now because, if it weren't for this workshop, I wouldn't have spent the last two days driving from Nashville, Tennessee to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and I wouldn't have gotten a first-hand demonstration of true love in action.

Preparing for a trip like this involves a number of tasks. Do laundry; pack suitcase; make sure manuscript copies are in notebooks and loaded up; read the manuscripts of the other authors; pack a bag to take to the dog trainers' (where they'll be staying while Mike and I are gone); get Mom to take care of the house, cat, and birds; give the animals lots of attention before dropping the dogs off at "Aunt Peg's."

My husband, Mike, is also getting ready for a trip. He and a group of his friends are going to a gaming convention in Gettysburg, stopping at a number of battlefields and museums on the way. But in the midst of preparing for his trip, he took the time to print out maps detailing every step of my route. Not only did he print them, he took them to Kinko's and bound them. He made sure we had AAA memberships and that I had a brochure with all the services listed. He bought me an adapter for my lighter so I can plug in multiple devices at one time. And then he gave me an mp3 player loaded with songs he knew I'd like. When I thanked him, he said, "I'm just trying to make your trip more pleasant."

When I got into the car, one of the first things I did was plug in my GPS ("Daniel"). Mike gave Daniel to me several years ago for our anniversary, and programmed "him" with the British male voice because he thought I'd like that best. He makes sure Daniel's maps are up-to-date so that when I travel, I don't have to worry about getting lost and having to ask for directions.

You'd better believe that, when I got behind the wheel of my little black Honda Accord and plugged in my mp3 player and put the coordinates for the workshop location into Daniel's memory, I was feeling protected, taken care of, and very, very loved.

It's the same way I feel when he drops me off at the front door of a restaurant because it's raining and he doesn't want me to get wet. I don't generally mind getting wet, but it still touches my heart when he does it.

I know the care and feeding of a mystery writer can be challenging sometimes. We spend our "mad" money on writers' workshops and conferences, we need a boatload of reassurance that we do indeed have talent, and--as Ben pointed out after his trip to Croatia--we think of murder at the strangest times.

So I'd like to thank my husband, Mike, for all the many little things he does to show support and love for this mystery writer.

May you all be lucky enough to have someone who'll do the same for you.

Rebuilding is a Chore

By Mark W. Danielson

Many years ago, I built an airplane. Other than the expense, it was a relatively simple task. All it took was following the plans and putting in long hours. Okay; that’s simplifying it a bit, but it wasn’t insurmountable. At the time, I was living in Victorville, California, and every Friday afternoon, I would drive to my hangar in Pomona and work steady until Sunday night. I even slept in the hangar on a roll-away bed. Needless to say, I had no social life, but nothing got done unless I was there doing it.

I completed my bi-plane in July, 1979, and flew it for many years performing air shows and giving passengers their first view of an upside-down world. When I first built this plane, its front cockpit was open with a passenger aboard and covered with a plate for solo flight. After I got married, I thought it would be more comfortable to have a canopy over both cockpits, so I spent a year modifying the plane, building new instrument panels for both cockpits, changing the design of the turtle deck behind the rear cockpit, installing new fuselage fabric, and repainting the airplane. Ironically, my former wife never flew in it after I modified it. I have since sold the airplane and changed wives.

Right now I am in the process of rebuilding a manuscript. I many ways, the course is the same as building and then rebuilding the airplane. My first draft is always the most enjoyable because it’s new and fresh. Then comes the editing, and once I’m finished, my editors have their own take. Thus, the rebuilding phase is nowhere near as enjoyable as scripting it the first time.

One time I got so frustrated building a wing that I stomped around my hangar, desperately searching for something to bash without damaging anything else. I had heard of people destroying their entire projects as a result of a Rube Goldberg chain of events, so I was being careful not to repeat their mistakes. In desperation, I picked up a rubber mallet and slammed it over a sawhorse hoping it would make me feel better. Instead, the head broke off, flipped backwards, and hit another part! Needless to say, my first problem remained unsolved and I created another one because I had lost my temper. Comparing this incident to writing, there are moments when I’ve wanted to delete or shred an entire manuscript, but like my airplane project, I knew that setting it aside and walking away was the better course of action.

Nothing compares to the fulfillment of completing an airplane or manuscript. Both take flight when they are finished, and I’ll always have a sense of satisfaction when looking back. Perseverance is what sees my projects through. As they say, no pain, no gain. I only wish I was good enough to get things right the first time.