[Angela and Denny absent. Mira still in New York; Cliff
remaining at the military runway trying to fix the plane he crash-landed.]
28 April 1933: The
passengers scrambled for their seats, buckling in tight. Mt. Kinabalu (rising
over 13,000 ft) looking oh so close out the windows of the diving plane. Cliff
would call it controlled flight as he muscled the disabled plane to the runway
below. Grounds people confused whether to run from the crashing wreck (after
the nose-gear collapsed) or to it to save lives. Long minutes after the screech
of metal stopped and the dust settled, when a lone military officer approached,
“Good heavens, that was an impressive landing. Captain Lancaster, of the
British Expeditionary Force, at your service. I saw the engine on fire as you
approached. What happened?”
Inside the plane, Shapiro directed the team to hide the
dead night-gaunt bodies in the 47 section back of the plane. As the passengers
disembarked, complaining of whiplash, Porter tried to downplay the airborne
attack, “Turbulence.” Upon seeing Cliff climb out of the pilot seat, the
captain could only comment, “Bloody American cowboys. Men, help them unload the
plane.” Opening a side-cargo door, local conscripts began removing crates.
Shapiro directed the efforts, “Careful that large crate; contains the viral
analyzer equipment. Those other crates are medical supplies for the quarantine
area. Those our own water and rations.” All the while, Shapiro clinging to his
own heavy box (20x20x30) he personally offloaded. One step off the plane and
Shapiro almost melting from the oppressive heat; his shirt drenched and he
sweating profusely.



