UAAG CH7

By the time the interview ended, it was only just past three o’clock.
However, the two were unable to return smoothly to the investigation headquarters.
They had barely taken a few steps out of the hospital room when a burst of noisy commotion blocked Fu Cheng and Old Joseph’s path.

“Sir, you can’t do this.”
“Sir, this is a hospital. Please keep it down, or I will have to call security.”
“Quick, call security up here!”

Amidst the throng of people, several female nurses wearing white caps spread their arms, trying to block a man of Asian descent with black hair and yellowish skin. The man had messy hair and wore a light-colored suit jacket that had been washed until it was faded. He raised his head to reveal exhausted eyes, bloodshot veins blooming from his eyeballs like a panicked and violent beast.

He charged forward regardless of the consequences; the few nurses couldn’t stop him at all.
Or perhaps, they didn’t particularly want to stop him.

As a soldier, Fu Cheng subconsciously assessed the chaotic scene. His gaze ultimately rested on the nurses’ arms, which never actually touched the man. Their arms were merely floating in front of him as a barrier, using no strength whatsoever.

Was it because Finns dislike physical contact with others, or were they waiting for security to come upstairs?
Or perhaps, there was another reason?

Just as the man was about to rush to the single room at the end of the corridor, he suddenly stopped and looked at Fu Cheng and Old Joseph standing to the side. When their eyes truly met, the intense sorrow settling in the depths of those exhausted eyes instantly seared Old Joseph.

Old Joseph possessed extensive experience in aircraft accident investigation. Almost in an instant, he understood the story behind those eyes.
Over the past twenty-plus years, he had seen countless pairs of eyes just like these.
Men and women, the elderly and children.
Filled with tears, or forcibly holding back grief.
But what never changed was that deep in those eyes lay an endless wilderness swallowed by despair.

Old Joseph was just about to speak when the man spoke first. Speaking in broken English, he gestured wildly, pointing at the ID badges hanging on Fu Cheng and Old Joseph’s chests. “You are investigators? The results… are the results out? Is it that devil? It’s him, he killed everyone, he killed everyone, right!”

Old Joseph was dumbfounded, unsure of what the man was saying. He didn’t even know how he had provoked this strange man. After seeing his bewildered reaction, the sorrow on the man’s face turned into intense hatred at a visible speed. This strong hatred twisted his expression. Even though Old Joseph was stronger than him, he was glared into taking half a step back.

The man suddenly reached out, grabbing at the badge on Old Joseph’s chest. “You’re still dawdling! Why haven’t you punished that murderer yet? You…”

A lean but powerful arm moved as fast as lightning, effortlessly seizing the man’s elbow. With a backhanded grab of the right hand, Fu Cheng entangled the man’s wrist and twisted it behind his back. The man cried out in pain as Fu Cheng, expression unchanged, pinned him against the wall, pressing a knee into him to lock him firmly in place.

The sequence of movements was swift as the wind; even Old Joseph, who was closest to him, hadn’t reacted in time.

They only heard Fu Cheng speak with a calm expression: “Mr. Yamada, before the investigation report is released, no one is a murderer, and no one needs to be punished.”

Just then, two security guards came panting up the stairs. Fu Cheng gave a push with his palm, shoving Yamada Kazuya in front of them.

“Take him away. This is a hospital.”

The black-haired young man had cold, detached brows and eyes, yet his presence was so oppressive that no one present dared to make a sound.

Upon leaving the hospital, Old Joseph remained unsettled.
After regaining his composure, he looked at Fu Cheng. “Although I guessed that man was a family member of a JL917 victim, or possibly one of the survivors, Fu, how did you actually know him and his name? Did he say his name at some point and I didn’t notice?”

Fu Cheng smiled gently. “After coming to Finland, I read through all the existing investigation reports from EASA. They happened to include a list of survivors and victims, along with general information about their families.”

Old Joseph was horrified. “So you memorized it all?”

Fu Cheng: “…”

“Old Joseph, I’m just an ordinary person, not a prodigy with a photographic memory.”

Old Joseph thought to himself: With that move you just pulled? An ordinary person? Hah.

The two walked toward the subway station.

Fu Cheng continued, “I remember him because Yamada Kazuya isn’t just an ordinary survivor; he is also a victim’s family member.” Hearing this, Old Joseph looked at him. “JL917, seat numbers 78A and 78B. The passenger in seat 78A was Yamada Kazuya; 78B was Yamada Ami. They were married in Tokyo on December 14th and embarked on their honeymoon on the 19th, coming to Finland. They wanted to see Santa Claus Village, having heard it was Santa’s hometown.”

Old Joseph’s lips parted slightly as he recalled the survivor file he had once seen from the corners of his memory.

After a long while, he murmured, “After boarding, Yamada Ami wanted to sit by the window to see the scenery, so she switched seats with her new husband. When the plane crashed, the left wing was snapped off by the ground, tearing away the entire row of window seats on the left side. Seat 78A flew out of the cabin… Seat 78B remained intact.”

All survivor interview data was preserved with audio recordings.
When reviewing these materials, investigators would sometimes listen to the audio simultaneously.
That heart-wrenching wailing had left a deep impression on Old Joseph. The man had torn his throat screaming his new wife’s name, and crying for the unborn child in her belly.

There were not a few people like Yamada Kazuya who believed that the Japan Airlines JL917 crash was a premeditated suicide incident caused by human action.
Most survivors had returned to Japan, but a small number remained in Helsinki.
They had built a monument for the victims not far from Vantaa Airport. Beneath the white stone tablet, fresh flowers glistening with dew were placed every day.

Finland had never experienced such a major air disaster. Media coverage had not ceased from the day of the incident until now.
No one knew where the reporters had obtained the crew’s information, but among the three pilots responsible for flying the plane, the one who attracted the most attention was Co-pilot Maeda Shosuke.

Huge debts, a broken relationship…
Every point was suspicious to the extreme.
And it just so happened that he was the Pilot Flying that day.
The Captain was responsible for assisting him with the flight and radio communications.
The public’s suspicions were not groundless. With “fuel exhaustion” ruled out: First, it was a rare day of good weather in Helsinki on the day of the accident, so the probability of weather causing the crash was almost zero. Second, the McFly F435 was a large passenger aircraft produced in the 1990s and was one of the safest planes. In over twenty years of service, there had never been an incident of inexplicable engine flameout, so the probability of a flight system error was also extremely low.

Aside from these, only human factors remained.
A co-pilot who wanted to commit suicide, driven to a dead end by debt and his fiancée.
Coincidentally, the fiancée who abandoned him was also on this plane. So taking her with him to die, and dragging over two hundred people along to be buried with them…
How convincing this reason was.

Only one person in the whole world was still willing to believe in him.
That was Yamashita Megumi.

Fu Cheng suddenly realized, “Is that why UAAG came here?”

Old Joseph’s footsteps paused. The little American old man looked at him with a beaming smile. “UAAG was invited by the European Union Aviation Safety Agency. But we have to find out the truth quickly; the alcohol in Finland is truly terrible to drink!”

Upon returning to the investigation headquarters, the two were stunned by the scene on the first floor as soon as they stepped inside.
The first floor of the investigation headquarters had originally been vacant, like a large warehouse. Now it was packed full. What could be clearly made out were four badly damaged engines, along with some engine components that had been scattered all over the ground during the crash. These had now been collected and placed on tables, sorted by category.

Fu Cheng had a lean build and could navigate through without much trouble.
Old Joseph, however, could not. He had a large beer belly and could barely squeeze through the many tables by turning sideways.

Back on the second floor, Old Joseph asked, “What’s going on downstairs? Were all four engines brought over from EASA?”

Lina smiled. “Just as you saw. Let’s set aside weather reasons for now. As for human factors, once McFly sends the black box over by private jet tomorrow and Su Fei finishes repairing it, we’ll know exactly what happened in the cockpit. As for the flight system issues, Reid said to investigate the engines, so that’s why all the engine parts were brought here.” She winked. “The first floor was empty for so long just waiting for the engines.”

A cold, clear voice rang out: “Why not check the fly-by-wire system? All four engines flamed out simultaneously; it can’t be a problem with the engines themselves.”

“Because you think it’s impossible for four engines to fail at the same time?”

His body stiffening, Fu Cheng slowly turned his head.
He saw that man.
The man stood at the top of the stairs, leaning his body to the right, slightly resting against the handrail. His arms were crossed over his chest, looking at him with a faint, ambiguous smile.

The silence lasted only two seconds, but the gaze exchanged between the four eyes felt like a year.
Fu Cheng heard himself speak, his tone certain and resilient: “Yes. The previous investigation report by EASA only briefly described the damage to the engines; they didn’t start with the engines.”

He was contradicting Zhuo Huan.

Zhuo Huan let out a soft laugh and stepped forward. He approached step by step. For some reason, Fu Cheng didn’t move an inch, just standing there rooted to the spot.
When the person stood in front of him, he subconsciously wanted to look up, but just as he lifted his head a little, Zhuo Huan pressed a hand onto his head, pushing it back down.

Long, cold fingers passed through his hair, grazing his scalp. In just an instant, it sent a tingling sensation through his entire body.
Zhuo Huan withdrew his hand, stepped around him, and walked past casually.

“That’s why they couldn’t find the cause.”
“Check the engines. As for the reason…”
“A plane designer’s intuition.”
“Oh right, the intuition of a plane designer who was awarded the Wright Brothers Medal and nominated for the Von Kármán Award.”

There was a moment of silence in the investigation headquarters.
After saying these words, Zhuo Huan didn’t speak again. He walked into the laboratory and began analyzing the metal materials just removed from the engines. No matter how noisy others were, he seemed not to hear a thing.

After a long while, Su Fei said, “Holy shit, acting that cool… I want to learn how to do that too.”

Old Joseph laughed heartily. “Reid has always been like this—arrogant and condescending. Don’t hold it against him.” This was an explanation to Fu Cheng that Zhuo Huan wasn’t specifically targeting him just now, but that this guy was just born with a bad temper.

Hearing Old Joseph describe him this way, Zhuo Huan finally found it interesting enough to look up, bestowing a cold glance upon him.
Old Joseph spread his hands, signaling that he would shut up immediately.

Except for Lina, the rest of the UAAG team went downstairs with the investigation headquarters staff to begin re-examining the engine parts.
Su Fei leaned in close to Fu Cheng and nudged his arm. “I think you’re right. Even if engines break, they can’t all break together. RIP just has something wrong with his brain; he’s a dictator who won’t let anyone question him.”

Fu Cheng kept his head lowered the whole time, lost in thought, and didn’t respond.
Su Fei scratched his head. “Say, if the engines did break together, what part could be broken?”

“Fu Cheng?”

Just when Su Fei thought he wouldn’t answer, Fu Cheng spoke: “Start by checking for metal fatigue.”

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