by John R. Kess
He vividly remembered an argument that took place between his daughter and the first lady about whether or not Celeste could go to a System Override concert. A White House intern had gotten tickets without the president’s or first lady’s approval. Now he felt bad that they’d kept her from going.
“I know it’s stupid, but I miss her so much,” Celeste said as she stared at the angelfish in her aquarium, avoiding a glance at the signed picture of Elly on the wall next to her desk. The first lady had written a letter on official White House letterhead to Elly to request it. It was one of Celeste’s twelfth-birthday presents.
“I asked Jenny to send a flower basket to Elly’s parents from us.”
“You did?”
“I even told her to put your name first on the card.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Celeste hugged him and then met her father’s gaze. “What happened to Elly’s plane?”
The president’s heart ached as his daughter’s eyes searched his for the truth. “We don’t know,” he said, “but we’re going to find out.”
“Do you swear?” Celeste asked with a serious look, another trait she’d gotten from her mother.
Celeste had her mom’s soft heart, but she was also stubborn, which meant that she’d inherited at least one thing from her dad. He leaned over and kissed his daughter’s forehead, then held up his right hand, just like he had at his inauguration. “I swear.”
* * *
Jay and Elly ate a quick breakfast of nuts and dried fruits before Jay packed up the tent.
“Did your parents want you to be a Marine?” Elly asked as Jay began wrapping her foot as he had the day before.
“No, my parents were furious when I told them I’d signed up.”
“What do they think now?”
Jay didn’t answer right away. “They died in a car accident just before I left for basic training.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Jay secured the athletic wrap into place on her right foot and started wrapping the left.
“Jay, do you know who I am?”
“I know your name is Elly.”
“No, I mean, do you know anything else about me?”
Jay stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Is there something else I should know?”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Elly said.
“Then what?” he said as he continued wrapping her foot.
“I just wanted to know.” Elly stared up at a nearby tree.
“Wanted to know what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, come on, tell me. Are you the Princess of Wales?”
Elly laughed.
“If you are, you have a great American accent,” Jay said.
“No, I’m not the Princess of Wales. I’m the lead singer in a band.”
“Which one?”
“System Override. Have you heard of it before?”
“No. Are you guys any good?”
“We have a small following.”
Jay thought about Elly flying in a private plane with a bodyguard and wondered about her definition of “small.”
“I hate these stupid handcuffs.” Elly rubbed her taped wrists. “Is Jay your real name or is it short for something?”
He took a deep breath. All he had wanted when he got home was to disappear. War had made Jay feel empty, like a ghost of who he’d once been, like the dead, like Ben. Jay didn’t want to lie to Elly, but if she was at all popular, he knew the press might be all over her when they got out of this. The last thing he wanted was media attention.
“Jay is my middle name. I grew up in a small town, and one of the other boys in my class and I had the same first name, so everyone started calling me Jay instead.” He hated lying to her. His middle name was really Gregory, after his grandfather.
“What is your real name?”
Jay thought about Ben being the first to call him Jay instead of Jason at school and instantly Ben’s name came out of his mouth. “Benjamin Chase.” The words seemed foreign, like someone else was speaking for him. Guilt overcame Jay as he wondered what Elly would think when she found out he’d given her the name of someone who had died several years ago. He thought about telling her the truth, but he knew getting Elly home safely was the most important thing, and his real name didn’t really matter at the moment.
* * *
FBI agent Aaron Beckholm waited patiently as his boss, Agent Treft, flipped through the sheets of paper in front of him, shaking his head in disgust every time he scribbled his signature.
Beckholm ran his hand through his wavy black hair while he tried to figure out if he was warm because of his black suit coat or because he’d been abruptly called into Treft’s office. Normally the brown-eyed and six-foot-two-inch-tall former high school quarterback wasn’t rattled easily, but there was something about his boss that unnerved him.
Treft was overweight and balding and had the most crooked teeth Beckholm had ever seen. Rumors of his retirement had floated around the office for the past few weeks. If they were true, Beckholm didn’t mind. He only saw the man about once a month, and most of those sightings occurred when they passed each other in the hall or in the men’s room. Until he’d received the phone call, Beckholm wondered if his boss had forgotten about him.
“Beckholm,” Treft said, still not looking up at him, “how many times have you been in my office since you were hired?”
“Four times, including today.” Beckholm knew to be quick with his responses.
“And how long have you been working for me?”
“Almost a year.”
Treft signed his name one last time and set down his pen. He gathered the sheets together in a stack, stuffed them into an interoffice confidential envelope, and finally turned his attention to Beckholm. “That’s why I like you. No bullshit. You just do your job; you do it well. Best of all, I don’t have to deal with any screwups like the one that just cost me two weeks in meetings and two days of paperwork.”
The praise surprised Beckholm, especially given that Treft was in a bad mood. Beckholm had heard what happened. While searching for a fugitive, two of Treft’s agents had inadvertently discovered a massive drug processing laboratory in a densely populated residential area. Shots were exchanged, and the laboratory caught on fire. The explosion broke windows several blocks away. Thirty-two people were hospitalized, and six died, including an undercover DEA agent.
Treft leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Almost a year, huh? I’ve been here twenty-six years, and I’ve been in this position for the last ten, but I started where you did. The politics of this job never cease to amaze me.”
One of Beckholm’s coworkers had told him Treft had “burned too many bridges to be able to go any higher.”
Treft leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “The president has asked the director to have someone within the bureau investigate the Wittenbel plane crash. It seems the president’s daughter is a big fan of Ms. Wittenbel. The director passed it to me, and I’m giving it to you. Now the main investigation is in the FAA’s hands, not ours. The FAA likes to take their time with every detail before reporting their findings. Your job is to report your own findings by Friday of this week when the director will be meeting the president for lunch. That is your deadline. I don’t want you working on anything else until then. Do you follow me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks to our most recent event, the director hates my guts, which is why we’ve been given this crappy little assignment. I need this to go well. Do you understand me?”
Beckholm nodded.
“I don’t care if you have to interview every last one of Wittenbel’s family, friends, or dog-shit-picker-uppers, you do it!” Treft pointed at Beckholm. “Do whatever you have to do to finish that report by Friday. Call me if you need clearance.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me make myself clear on this next point.” Treft’s forefinger stabbed the envelope of paperwork in front of
him. “It is not public knowledge that we are involved with this case. The media will be covering the Wittenbel crash like flies on shit. I do not want you in front of any cameras or giving any interviews. If I see or hear anything in the news that says FBI and Wittenbel in the same sentence, you’ll be at the bottom of my shit pile. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is that friend you’ve worked with before, the one in records?”
“You mean Agent Derek West?”
“That’s the one. I’ve spoken with his boss, and he’s been authorized to help you on this one. I also have a meeting set up with the engineering department of Big Sky Aircraft in about forty minutes. I want you to find out everything you can about that plane. Specifically, how the door could have come off. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There are very few details about what happened yesterday, but they know Wittenbel got on the plane in Baltimore, and they know her cell phone was on the plane when it passed over Seattle. This one has bad news written all over it. Just find out what you can and quietly turn in your report.”
* * *
The air was cooler than the day before, and Jay hoped that meant they could cover more ground. He was happy the hiking was also easier, with less underbrush and tall trees providing good cover. Elly seemed to be having an easier time as well. They hiked for two hours before stopping to take a break in a grove of pine trees.
“Are you from here originally?” Elly asked.
“Yes, I am. What do you think of our beautiful state of Montana?” Jay smiled, then said, “You know you’re getting the deluxe tour. Not just anyone gets this tour.”
“When is the tour over?” Elly returned his smile.
“It’s hard to say. I have a feeling we’re just getting started. After all, it’s a rather large state.”
“And does anyone else live here, or is it just you?”
“Oh, there are others, but seeing other people isn’t part of the tour. That’s part of our super-deluxe package.”
“Can I upgrade?” Elly asked.
“Sorry, no upgrades once the tour has begun. Company policy. In fact, we had to temporarily suspend our ‘no pop singers’ policy just for you.”
“Oh, you did?” Elly said.
“Why do you think they sent a Marine as the tour guide?”
“It certainly wasn’t for his charming sense of humor.” Elly said playfully, then swatted at a mosquito buzzing near her ear.
Jay yawned and then closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry you’re tired,” Elly said. “I didn’t mean to make you sleep outside last night. It’s your tent, after all.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t really sleeping.”
“What were you doing?”
Jay opened his eyes. “Guarding our position.”
Elly stared at him. “You really are a Marine.”
“Well, I barely stayed awake. But it did give me a lot of time to think about what happened yesterday. There’s something you should know—” Jay stopped. He jumped to his feet and looked back in the direction they had come. A low thumping sound was growing in volume.
“What is that?” Elly asked.
“Helicopter,” Jay said.
Elly stood up next to him. It appeared on the horizon just above the trees heading toward them.
Elly waved her cuffed hands above her head. “Over here!” she shouted.
Jay grabbed her by the arm and pulled her under a pine tree.
“What are you doing?” she screamed, trying to pull away.
Jay didn’t answer. Instead he grabbed the chain on her handcuffs and held her arms down. He did his best to get between her and the approaching helicopter, hoping his camouflage shirt would conceal them. The thumping noise grew louder.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded as the helicopter buzzed over them.
Jay remained silent, watching the helicopter to make sure it kept going. He let go of Elly, who pulled away from him. She stopped and stared at the helicopter retreating into the distance. She let out a huge sigh.
“Why did you do that?” Elly demanded.
Jay was mad, but he knew Elly didn’t realize what she was doing. He tried not to show his anger. “Who is in that helicopter?”
“I don’t care,” Elly shouted.
Jay raised his voice. “Who is in that helicopter?”
“I don’t know. How can you—”
“If you don’t know, then that helicopter is our enemy.”
“It could have been anybody.”
“Including our enemy. You do not reveal our position under any circumstances. I don’t care if a family member walks by, do you understand that?”
“No, I don’t! Somebody has to know we’re out here. And you let our ride out of here get away!”
“Who? Who knows we’re out here?”
“I don’t know about you, but millions of people know I’m missing by now!”
Jay opened his mouth to speak but instead just frowned. “No.” He spoke in a soft tone. “No, that’s not true, Elly. The rest of the world thinks you’re dead.”
The anger in Elly’s face disappeared as she hung on his last sentence.
Jay set down his rifle. “I figured it out last night. Think about what happened at the airport when they came to take you. What were they doing to your plane? And why? The first thing they did was fuel it. Why do that if they were going to kidnap you and take you away in a van? The fuel man was involved, so there was no reason to fool him by fueling the plane. I watched when the van pulled up to the plane. It was a well-coordinated operation. Every man coming out of the van had a specific job. One of them started cutting away the plane’s door. Again, ask yourself, why?”
Elly’s contorted face showed her confusion.
Jay continued, “Everything happened so fast you probably didn’t even notice the man cutting on the door. Did you see the sparks as you walked down the steps?”
“I remember hearing something loud, but—”
Jay cut her off. “The plane followed us. That tells me regardless of what they did to the door, they wanted the plane capable of flying. They planned it that way. You were to be taken by the van somewhere, and the plane would take off without you.”
Elly stared back at Jay. “They were going to crash the plane … to make it look like I died.”
“You said you were flying to Seattle. They were grinding off the door hinges to make it look like an accident. They probably let the plane run out of fuel or flew it into a mountain. The pilot probably bailed out once it was airborne. All I know is these guys are committed, and that tells me they’ll come after us.” Jay pointed in the direction the helicopter was headed. “What more proof do you need?”
Elly thought for a moment and then said, “But why go to the trouble?”
“How many people would search for you if you were kidnapped? As you said, if millions of people know you’re missing, it’d be huge. They made it look like you died, so no one will be looking for you.”
Elly sat down, pulled her legs up to her chest, and put her head down on her knees. “What about Kevin? If they took him to a hospital, he’d tell everyone.”
Jay took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. I’m sorry, Elly. I don’t think they’d have brought him anywhere. I think Kevin was on the plane when it crashed.”
Elly’s mouth opened in horror.
“I’m sorry.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “What about you?” she finally asked. “Won’t someone be looking for you?”
Jay crouched next to her. “Only one person knew where I was going, but it’ll be almost a week before he’ll suspect I’m missing. And we’re miles from where I’m supposed to be.”
Elly put her forehead on her knees again. She fought her handcuffs as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her bottle of pills.
“I’m sorry, Elly,” Jay said softly. “The only people looking for us are the enemy. We�
�re alone.”
Chapter 7
Beckholm had just enough time to review the type of aircraft that had carried Elly Wittenbel before his meeting started. He held the phone to his ear and listened to everyone gathered in the Big Sky Aircraft conference room introduce themselves. There were engineers representing each of the design groups: flight controls and navigation, aerodynamics, fuselage and structure, hydraulics, interior, engines, and manufacturing. There was also a pack of company lawyers in the room.
The lead aerodynamics engineer introduced himself and said, “We’ve rerun all of our computational fluid dynamics models of an open door on the plane, and it confirms what we’ve calculated in the past. The forces on the door are not high enough to cause it to come off.”
“But it did come off.” Beckholm heard his voice through the speaker of his faceless audience. “Can someone explain to me how that would happen?” He didn’t like the long silence that followed. “Are you still there?”
The lead engineer of fuselage and structure introduced himself and said, “We’ve been asking ourselves the same question. As soon as we heard what happened we got to work setting up a quick test. It’s running right now with a full-scale door that is in the open position in our wind tunnel. The wind speed we are subjecting it to is higher than what the plane was experiencing. Keep in mind that the air is denser on the ground than it is at 30,000 feet. It’s like comparing walking on dry land to walking through mud. What I’m getting at is we are running a much harsher set of conditions than what the plane would have had. It’s been running for about an hour, and nothing has pointed us in the right direction.”
“What would you need to point you in the right direction?” Beckholm asked.
“Hardware would be key. It would tell us what went wrong. Have you heard anything about the chances of finding any wreckage?”
“It doesn’t look good. I’m being told by my FAA contact that the plane crashed in deep water. On top of that, there are high seas right now in that area. They’ve got a ship headed out there, but they told me any chance of bringing up significant wreckage is highly unlikely.”
