Like some gigantic bird of prey, the Boeing 377 Stratocruiser came dropping out of the sky over Los Angeles, its wings stretching out and its wheels searching for the two-mile strip of concrete runway. The palm trees on either side bowed briefly in obeisance as it roared past, disappearing into the heat haze. It was midday and the sun was at its most intense, the air thick with the fumes of oil and methanol. The wheels made contact. The pilot slammed the engines into reverse thrust and with a howl of rage the great beast allowed itself to be steered back into captivity.
