She’d Sworn Never to Fly Again. Then Someone Poisoned the Co-Pilot Six Miles Over the Atlantic
Turbulence is random; the air shoves you and lets go.
This was rhythmic, mechanical, a shudder with a heartbeat to it, and it ran through the floor and the seats and my back teeth.
“How long has the column been oscillating like that?” I said.
“About ten minutes.” Reeves’ hands were tight on the yoke.
“It comes and goes.”
“Walk me through everything.
Fast.”
“Autopilot dropped out with no warning.