by John R. Kess
“What about the door, Agent Beckholm?”
“From what I know right now, the door has not been found, but I don’t think anybody is looking. We know the last transmission with the aircraft happened over the Dakotas, so it could have fallen off anywhere between there and Idaho, where the F-16s caught it. I don’t know if we’re ever going to find it.”
“I would bet my firstborn we’d be able to tell you how the door failed if we had it.”
“I’ll see if anything can be done to find it.” Beckholm did not pick up his pen. He wondered how in the world they could possibly find the door.
The lead engineer of flight controls and navigation introduced himself and said, “There was no indication in any of the news stories about the plane having stopped along the way. Is that true?”
Beckholm paused as he thought about where he could be going with this. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“You’re sure there were no stops?”
“I’ve seen a copy of the flight plan the pilot submitted, and it showed Baltimore to Seattle nonstop. Why do you ask?”
“Before this meeting a few engineers from our aero and our engine teams got together to talk about the crash. They made some rough calculations based on altitude, drag coefficient, and engine performance. And if you assume optimal conditions for air speed, fuel efficiency, a tailwind, maximum fuel load, air pressure … One of our guys even called the National Weather Service to find out where the jet stream was on Sunday—”
“Hey, you’re losing me here,” Beckholm said.
“What I’m trying to tell you is there isn’t a chance in hell the plane made it from Baltimore to three hundred miles west of Seattle without refueling. It just isn’t possible. That plane didn’t have the range. If they hadn’t stopped to refuel, they would have crashed before they ever got to Seattle.”
* * *
“West,” Beckholm said into his phone. “It’s Beckholm.”
“Hey, what’s going on, man?” Agent West asked.
Beckholm knew Agent West from their college days at Dartmouth. Beckholm knew his friend was a master when it came to computers and information technology. He’d graduated fifth in his class and went right into the FBI.
“I need a favor.”
“You and everybody else. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for an airport that would have sold aviation fuel between the hours of six AM and eleven AM Eastern Standard Time last Sunday morning. The credit card used would have belonged to Revolution Records—it was for one of their planes. The airport would have been between Wisconsin and Idaho.”
“Wait a minute. Are you investigating the Wittenbel crash?”
“As far as the public is concerned, the answer is no, the bureau is not involved. Between you and me, I’m the man.”
“So, the fuel stop is not on the flight plan?”
“No, the flight plan showed Baltimore to Seattle with no stops. According to the engineers at Big Sky, there is no way the plane could fly that far without refueling.”
“Oh, I bet they’re sweating bullets right now.”
“They’re a little flustered. Hey, are you familiar with, oh, what did he call it, computational fluid dy—”
“Computational fluid dynamics?”
“That’s it. How accurate is that?”
“It depends on a whole bunch of variables and the software, but if you have a competent user and a good software package, it can be very accurate. Why?”
“They were talking about how the door shouldn’t have come off. They used this program to verify the forces on the door hinges and said it was way too low to make the door fail.”
“But there are other things that could make the door fail. It’s possible that vibration alone could do it.”
“They’ve been running an open door in their wind tunnel. It’s been in there for a while, and they can’t get it to fail. The bigger question for me is why would the pilot leave the refueling point off the flight plan?”
West thought about it and then said, “Are you smelling something you don’t like?”
“The thought crossed my mind that maybe she faked her own death. Maybe she’d made enough money and didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore. But, from talking with a few people she knew, I know she got along with her bodyguard. The F-16 pilots confirmed a male was visible inside the back of the plane, and if that was her bodyguard, then it makes me believe she was on the plane, too.”
“What about the pilot. What’s his name? I’ll run a full bio on him.”
Beckholm checked his notes. “His name is Michael Albert Belgrade, age thirty-three.”
“Got it,” West said.
“Do you have any ideas on how one could find the door that came off?”
West paused and then said, “Do you remember a couple years back when a military pilot disappeared when he flew his A-10 Thunderbolt into a mountain?”
“I remember that.”
“They used a U-2 spy plane to search for the crash site.”
“Do you think one of those could find the door?”
“The door is probably squashed like a beer can run over by a semi, but if it didn’t land in a junkyard or in a lake, I’d give them a fifty-fifty chance they could find it. We know the flight path. The bigger question is do you have the balls to submit the request for it, because there isn’t a person with power to grant that request who wouldn’t tell you to go screw yourself.”
“Yeah, I know.”
* * *
“Three days ago,” Elly said, as she hid from Jay’s view behind a tree, “I was at a restaurant in Memphis with the most gorgeous bathroom I’ve ever seen, and now I’m peeing in the middle of nowhere in a Montana forest.”
Jay laughed. “If only you had selected our ultra-deluxe tour, you would have had an array of perfumes to try when you were finished. All we have on this tour is oak leaves and some birch bark.”
“I’d settle for having these handcuffs removed. You have no idea how hard this is,” Elly said, trying to balance as she squatted.
“And I’ll never know.”
Elly screamed.
“What is it?” Jay turned off the safety on his rifle.
“No! Don’t come over here.”
“What’s wrong?” Jay waited for a response.
“I fell over. Oh, gross!”
“While you were peeing?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m wiping the dirt from my ass if you really want to know. Ugh—make that mud.”
“Is that something you had to do when you used that bathroom in Memphis?”
“Very funny.”
A few hours later, Jay carefully selected a spot surrounded by pine trees and shrubs to set up the tent. He wanted to make sure it was completely out of sight from the air as well as from the ground.
“You look tired,” Elly said.
“I am really tired.” He knew he’d sleep better if he didn’t have to worry about that helicopter returning. In the end, he decided anyone tracking them would have a hard time at night. He waited with his rifle ready until darkness set in, and then he moved into the tent.
“Do you want your sleeping bag?” Elly asked.
“No, keep it, but I’ll take my ground mat from you.”
Jay dug out two more shirts and put them on. Elly struggled with her handcuffs as she moved the mat from under the sleeping bag. The old tent still smelled like plastic, like driving by an oil refinery. It held the same smell as when he and Ben used it to camp out in the backyard.
The tent forced Jay and Elly close together as they lay next to each other. The awkward silence was finally broken by a distant, high-pitched squeal, followed by barking.
Elly sat up. “What was that?”
Jay listened for a moment. “It sounds like a pack of coyotes.”
“What?”
“Hey, relax. I’ve heard it a hundred times out here. They’ll stay far away from us
.”
Elly lay down and moved closer to him.
“I can’t believe how warm it is during the day and how cold it is at night,” Elly said.
“It’s just part of being in the mountains. It’s a lot like Afghanistan. Have you ever camped before?”
“Yeah, once with my family, but it was in the middle of summer in Maryland. And we didn’t have anyone trying to kidnap us.”
Jay laughed.
“What was Afghanistan like?” Elly asked.
“It was warm during the day and cold at night.”
Elly smiled. “Seriously. When did you go there?”
“I was in Kabul on the first day we attacked. October 7, 2001.”
Elly fought with her handcuffs as she propped herself up on her elbow, facing him. “What happened?”
It had been a long time since Jay had the opportunity to talk to a beautiful young woman like Elly. For Jay, the war was like a wound that was just starting to heal, and he thought about deflecting the question, but he didn’t want to be rude.
“We raided the Taliban’s government offices and removed everything we could find. The city seemed to be collapsing from the explosions all around us.” Jay started slowly but soon found the words came easily. “The whole unit was excited to go on our first war mission. We got in, did our job, and got out. After that, we were out on missions every day, sometimes several a day. At first, I was on such a high after 9/11, wanting to get out there and defend our country, but, you have to understand, war is awful. Especially when it’s so hard to tell who your enemy is and who it is you’re there to help.”
“How long have you been back?”
“I just got back.”
“Like, how long ago?”
“The day before I met you.”
“Some homecoming.” Elly rolled onto her stomach. “What’s your favorite part about being in the Marines?”
“Just being with other Marines,” Jay said. “I’ve never been a part of such a cohesive group of people. We all trained together before we went over, and we worked extremely well together, like a well-oiled machine. All those guys, from the general running the show down to the man running alongside me, I trusted with my life, and they trusted me with theirs. When the enemy is shooting at you, there’s no better feeling than being able to totally trust the people around you.”
“Speaking of trust,” Elly said, “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Today, when that helicopter flew over, I didn’t trust you when you pulled me under the tree. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t … you didn’t know.”
“It won’t happen again.”
Jay turned onto his side to face her. “So, what about you? What made you want to be a singer?”
“Ever since I was about four years old, anytime I was alone, I would sing. My dad was in the choir at church, and when I was eleven, he brought me to a practice, and before I knew it I was standing next to him, singing away every week during the church service. It was my dad, twelve elderly people, and me.”
Elly rolled onto her back and pulled at the chain on the handcuffs. “When I was thirteen, a boy named Alex asked me out on a date. I said yes, I mean he was—and still is—pretty cute, but we didn’t date for very long. We were better as friends. He introduced me to Jeremy and Brent, and all three of them wanted to be in a band. They played together almost every day after school in Alex’s basement. I remember the three of them could, on command, play any song, I mean anything. It was amazing. They asked me to sing with them one day after school. I had so much fun that I started hanging out with them all the time. Soon, I began writing my own songs.
“We started playing in local clubs when we were fifteen. We played every venue and contest we could find. One day, we caught a break. Someone who worked at a record company heard us play. We had an audition, and they offered us a one-album deal. It just took off from there.”
“Just think,” Jay said, “how many people look up to you and admire you for what you do.”
Elly smiled. “And I used to be one of those people looking up to other musicians. One day at a concert, one of our fans had a seizure. They took her to the hospital. I found out after the concert and went to see her in her hospital room.”
“I’m guessing she was a little excited to see you,” Jay said.
“You have no idea. Her family had to keep telling her to calm down, but after that we started talking like sisters. We talked for about an hour. I gave her tickets and backstage passes to our show in Philadelphia, so I got to see her again. That’s the kind of stuff that makes it all worthwhile.”
“That’s really cool,” Jay said.
“There’re some things I don’t like about it, but I like that stuff.”
“Does the public ever get on your nerves? Do you get recognized everywhere you go?”
“Yeah. They say you get used to it, but I’m still not. I want to walk down the street to the grocery store, by myself, and buy my favorite ice cream, but I can’t. I have to have someone do it for me. It gets old being recognized everywhere.” Elly sighed. “I guess it’d be kind of nice if the paparazzi knew where I was now, though.”
“That’s why I wouldn’t like being famous,” Jay said, “because of the attention. It’d take a really strong person to be able to handle it. I don’t know how you do it. I’m sure you’ve had to deal with people asking for money, people trying to take advantage of you, invading your privacy—”
“You mean like when a jerk put a camera in my dressing room shower, and the next day the pictures were all over the Internet?”
“That sucks.”
“Mmm-hmm, that did suck. I wanted to murder the person who did that. I cried for two days.”
“It must be hard knowing who to trust,” Jay said.
“It can be. That’s why …” Elly stopped herself.
“What?”
Elly hesitated, then said, “That’s why I wanted to know … if you knew who I was.”
“Wait, do you mean you wanted to know if the reason I was helping you is because of who you are?”
“I—”
“Because that’s not the reason.”
“I know that now, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know then. Like you said, it’s hard to know who to trust.”
Chapter 8
TUESDAY
A ring of men stood around Ben as he cried out in pain on the Montana forest floor. Ben’s screams were replaced with the shouting of the father of the armed Afghani boy.
“Hamasa!”
The boy suddenly yelled and swung the machine gun around to his front.
Jay squeezed the trigger. The boy’s arms flailed helplessly as he fell backward. “Ben,” Jay gasped.
The ping-ping-ping of shots ricocheting off the large rock Jay was hiding behind filled the air.
“Open fire!” The command was loud in Jay’s earpiece. “This is Alpha team. We are under fire!”
Everything was so clear: the convulsing boy, the barking commands from the platoon leader, and the deep boom that shook the ground as the explosion ripped apart the cave’s entrance.
The cloud of dust settled, revealing a group of hunters crowded around Ben as blood poured out from between the fingers he held against his stomach.
Jay twisted on his ground mat and bolted up.
“Jay, are you all right?” Elly placed her cuffed hands on his shoulder.
Jay caught his breath and lay back down. The darkness didn’t help the image in his mind fade away. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, and he feared it wouldn’t be the last.
“I’m okay,” he said after a moment. “It was just a bad dream.”
Jay turned his back to her and put his hands over his head. He tried to clear his mind and go back to sleep.
* * *
A throbbing headache told Joanna that she was awake. She thought she heard someone calling Elly’s name, but the room was quiet. Tears formed in her eyes.
> The clock on her nightstand read 3:48 AM. She reached out to touch Mark, but he wasn’t there. Sitting up, she saw him across the room, staring out the window.
Mark had been an invaluable support to her since the news first came in about Elly’s plane. Joanna wondered how she would have survived without him. He had not left her side the whole time. He’d kept his emotions in check, and for a moment she replaced grief about her daughter with concern for her husband.
“Mark.” She wiped her eyes, sniffing.
He did not respond. Slowly Joanna stood up and walked to him. Together they looked at the street below. The memorial of flowers and gifts on the sidewalk in front of the house had grown in size and now covered half the front lawn. Someone had printed a huge picture of System Override’s latest album cover and outlined it in a huge heart. The wind had blown out all the candles except for a lone one that continued to burn deep inside its vase.
“Mark.” Joanna wrapped her arms around his waist.
“This is my fault,” he said. “I signed it.”
“Signed what?”
“Elly’s record contract. I signed it, and it killed her.”
Joanna rested her head on the back of his neck. “Mark, don’t do this to yourself.”
“She was only a child, and she needed my signature. I didn’t have to sign it, but I did. This is my fault. I killed my daughter.”
“I signed it, too.”
Mark turned to face Joanna. “Elly would have hated me the rest of her life”— he wiped away a tear—“but she’d still be here.”
* * *
The cool morning air made hiking easy. Elly was glad there was a slight breeze blowing their scent away from each other. She desperately wanted a shower. They hiked for several hours before stopping to take a break.
“Jay, do you have any siblings?”
“I have an older sister.”
“Do you get along with her?”
Jay nodded. “She’s five years older than I am, and I’ve always looked up to her. I called her just about every week when I was in Afghanistan.”
