by L C Lang
“I think they are well past the rigor stage.” He bent down and lifted the second man’s arm. It was flexible. But, the smell was there and it wouldn’t get any better.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Matt turned and walked back up the stairs. He went up to the front of the plane and pulled two body bags out of one of the cases, and then went back down to the cargo area. Matt and Damon bagged the two bodies and left them lying together.
“I checked the rest of the boxes, but there was nothing in any of them. There are two larger boxes I think the bodies had been in.” He pointed to the two boxes.
“Dust them. We might get lucky and find a print.”
“Maybe. At the rate this is already going, I doubt it.”
Matt nodded. “Yeah, I know, but we have to try.”
Damon nodded, and then followed Matt up the stairs. He went up to the front, pulled a fingerprint kit out of one bag, and then headed back down the stairs to the cargo area.
Matt had waited at the back of the plane. Once Damon had gone back down, he turned to Colin and Sean. They had just finished checking the upper luggage holds in the economy class.
“Anything at all?”
They both shook their heads.
He blew out his breath. “Okay. Start the fingerprinting. Start at the front. Forget about the seating chart. I want one of you to fingerprint and one to document every seat. Damon and I will start on the back section and we can meet in the middle. I have a feeling everything has been wiped, but dust everywhere just in case. Maybe we can get lucky and find a latent print they missed. We have got to be thorough about this.”
“Okay,” Colin said. “What happened downstairs?”
“There are two bodies, both male, both shot in the head. Although I doubt either of them is one of the passengers or the crew. No identification on either of them and there is no luggage in the cargo hold. There are about a dozen boxes and that is it. The boxes are either empty or have shredded paper in them.”
“What’s going on here? This is like a ghost plane.”
“I know. I have no idea what’s going on either.”
Colin and Sean nodded, and then went back up front. They pulled out the supplies they needed and began fingerprinting.
Matt suddenly thought of something. He went up to the front of the plane and got into one of the cases. If one of the passengers had taken over the plane, then maybe there was other evidence of what happened. He got out a bottle of Luminol, and then pulled out a portable light. He plugged the light into the strip and walked into the cockpit.
Damon came up from the cargo area and closed the hatch. Then he followed Matt into the cockpit.
“What are we going to do in here?” Damon asked.
“I have to assume the pilot and first officer were overtaken. I want to see if we can see if it was a hostile takeover.”
“You mean blood splatters?”
Matt nodded. “Yes.”
Damon took the portable light and held it up, so it lit the whole cockpit. Being careful not to spray the plane’s electrical equipment, Matt first sprayed the floor around where the pilot and first officer had been sitting, then all the way back to the door. Then he stood up. Nothing happened. Next, he sprayed the seats, front and back. Still nothing. He shook his head. No blood meant it wasn’t a hostile takeover. So what happened?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LATE SATURDAY MORNING
Washington, DC
James Fitzpatrick sat on the plane as it waited in line to take off. He had wanted an earlier flight, but Patty hadn’t been able to get him one. Kim was gone before he got up anyway, so it didn’t really matter. They don’t sleep in the same room anymore, so he never heard her leave. She sure made her plans fast, he thought. Must have called Susan when she got back upstairs late last night. He doubted she would be home when he got back tomorrow afternoon. No matter. He had made some decisions last night. If he was going to tick off Glen Harper, he might as well make Monday an even better day and tick off Kim too. He was tired of what she was doing. He would make the call when he got to Texas.
Kim was nothing to him now. He no longer wanted a trophy wife. He knew he had made a mistake a year into the marriage. He would simply call his lawyer, have him draw up the papers, he would sign them before he went in to work on Monday. Once the lawyer filled the papers, they would serve Kim. He smiled as he thought about it. Good thing he had insisted on a pre-nup before they were married. She would no longer get any more of his money. There was no love between them anymore, and while he was getting everything else taken care of, he would get her out of his house and cut her off using his credit card. Today. Yes, Monday is going to be a good day. Tuesday will be even better.
A few moments later, the plane taxied down the runway and took off. Fitzpatrick went over in his mind what he wanted to accomplish this weekend. He already knew things were going well in Texas. Right now, he is just going through the motions of making sure. He wanted to follow up and make sure there were no further needs. As far as he was concerned, this was going to be a fun trip. A trip everyone will see.
Fitzpatrick had come up with a plan. He was going to make sure the public knew he was responsible for FEMA’s part in the recovery in Texas, not Harper. Of course, he had been part of a team that went down there. Still, he was the main force in the team with what he had to do. For the first time since Harper became Administrator, he was going to get the credit he deserved. Harper had taken credit for doing what Fitzpatrick had done one too many times. He’d had enough. To make sure he got credit, he had arranged for a news crew to follow him once he got to Texas. They were going to meet him at the Beaumont airport. Then, on Sunday evening, the report was going national.
Fitzpatrick smiled as he thought about what Harper’s reaction would be. Harper was sure to try to contact him, but he was going to let Harper sit and stew about it until Monday. There was no question his meeting with Harper on Monday morning was going to be interesting. For once, he was going to get back at him. Harper wasn’t the one doing any of the work, everyone else was. It was time he learned that.
Three and a half hours later, Fitzpatrick was in Houston. He had a half an hour wait before he got on a connecting flight to Beaumont. Here, Adam McElroy, who was the Regional Preparedness coordinator for Region VI, met him. Also waiting for him were the two NBC film crewmembers, a man and a woman. They introduced themselves. The young woman’s name was Sasha Walken. She was in her late twenties, five foot seven, long honey blonde hair, deep blue eyes and very pretty. She introduced her cameraman, Josh Bradshaw. He was in his early thirties, dark haired and about six foot two. Fitzpatrick shook hands with both of them, and then introduced them to McElroy. Then he invited them along for the ride to get an aerial view of the hurricane damage. The looks on their faces told him they hadn’t expected this. He knew this was going to be one more point in his favor.
McElroy took them to another part of the airport, where an Astar B2 helicopter was waiting for them. The photographer got in the backseat first so he could be near the window, his large bag with photo equipment tucked in-between his legs. Then Sasha Walken got in, followed by Fitzpatrick. The pilot handed him his rolling suitcase, which he tucked between his legs. This made for a tight squeeze, but still comfortable. They all buckled in and then Fitzpatrick got out a pen and notepad. He wanted to make notes, so he could be ready for the film crew’s questions and any questions he might have for the local staff here. Finally, the pilot and McElroy got in and the pilot started the rotors going on the helicopter.
The helicopter had moderately sized side windows, a much larger window next to the pilot and McElroy and a large front window. All the windows allowed the passengers to see any number of directions, including the ground, which was the main focus of this trip.
A few moments later, the helicopter lifted off the ground. Fifteen minutes later, they began flying over the damage area. Fitzpatrick had taken this same tour a month ago. What he wa
s seeing now was a greatly improved area. As before, they began the tour by heading south and flying over the area where the hurricane first hit land.
The area that bordered the Gulf of Mexico had flooded worse than other areas. He still saw some downed tress and other debris. It will take longer to clear this area out because no one lived here. However, a two-lane highway also went along the coastline. Debris still covered the road, which stopped the traffic between Texas and Louisiana. He made a note in his notepad to find out how much longer it would take to clear it. They needed to restore traffic again. He understood that other more important problems had to be taken care of first. And, they had been. Now they needed to restore the traffic into the area.
Fitzpatrick heard a whirring sound and looked over at the photographer. Josh Bradshaw was photographing the view on the ground they were looking at. Sasha Walken was looking over Josh’s shoulder and making notes on what she was seeing as fast as she could. He knew she would be coming up with some good questions when they toured the area they were now looking at.
The helicopter now began slowly heading north. Areas went from still wet land near the Gulf to land that became drier the further north they went. Each of the small towns they flew over had clean up going on.
No new houses, but Fitzpatrick did see quite a few mobile homes, and that made him happy. This was a poor area. He was sure the mobile homes were better than the homes the people had lived in before. He doubted people in these towns had insurance, so they had no choice. The mobile homes gave them an option they didn’t have before. He saw cleared off lots, which meant mobile homes would parked there soon.
Fitzpatrick was glad to see the volunteers hadn’t dropped off and work was still going strong. The signs of hope were still there, and he was glad to see it.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick, can I ask a question?” Sasha asked.
He looked at her. “Of course. What is your question?” He hadn’t expected questions so soon, but no time like the present, he thought.
“I noticed the mobile homes. Why were they brought in instead of the temporary trailers, like after Katrina?”
Fitzpatrick nodded. Just the question he wanted.
“Most of the people that live in these towns can’t afford to move anywhere else. A lot are elderly and either have nowhere else to go or they don’t want to leave. This area has been their homes for most, if not all, of their lives. Since they can’t afford to rebuild, the mobile homes seemed to be the best answer. We contacted the city councils with a suggestion to the problem. The city councils said there are no restrictions on mobile homes in the towns, so people are cleaning off their lots and mobile homes will take the place of their homes. As you can see, clean up is still going on. They have accomplished a lot since the hurricane hit just a month ago.
“The mobile homes being used now are different than the trailers used after Katrina. As you know, there was a definite problem with formaldehyde in those trailers. They weren’t supposed to be permanent. These are. These mobile homes are commercial grade. They have worked out a whole lot better than after Katrina.”
The young woman nodded, and then finished her notes. Fitzpatrick knew she would have more questions about this. Right now, the helicopter was heading further north and the photographer had his camera on the scenes outside. More in-depth questioning would take place later, once they got on the ground.
As he looked outside, Fitzpatrick saw the lessening of damage on the ground the further north they got. Downed and damaged trees were now gone. People were outside helping their neighbors clean up the debris. He made a mental note to make sure he pointed this out later when they were on the ground. The public loves these kinds of stories.
After Katrina, when the National Hurricane center told people to leave town, they did. The National Guard had come in to help people leave the area safely, and dropped them off in a safe place further north. Of course, a few people were die-hards who just wouldn’t leave, but they were from the towns further north. Fortunately, this time no one died in the hurricane. There had been some injuries, but not many. They had to rescue about fifty people in some of the towns located midway down from Beaumont. They were lucky this time.
The further north they went, the better it got. Fitzpatrick was satisfied to see what had taken place since he had left two weeks ago.
As the helicopter headed north, back towards Beaumont, where the Texas/FEMA Joint Field office was located, they passed the towns of Port Acres, Port Neches, Dowling, and several other smaller towns, and then to Beaumont. Fitzpatrick saw three semi’s heading south on the now cleared highway, taking more aid to those in the southern towns. Everything was going like clockwork.
Fifteen minutes later, the helicopter landed back in Beaumont. A black Lincoln was waiting for them this time. The driver got out, walked over to the helicopter and took Fitzpatrick’s luggage. He also loaded the film crewmember’s cases in the trunk of the car. Then, they all got in the car and left.
It was a quiet ten-minute drive to the Field office. Just as Fitzpatrick got out of the car, Stan McClelland came out of the building and towards him. He had worked with Stan extensively a month ago, beginning in the hours after the hurricane had hit. He had also met him on several occasions before this. While Fitzpatrick didn’t necessarily consider him a close friend, he was impressed with how well he did his job. McClelland was in his early fifties, grey haired and a bit overweight, and a tireless worker. He was dressed in an off-white shirt with the FEMA logo on it, and a pair of grey pants. As McClelland got closer, he stuck out his hand. Fitzpatrick shook it.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick. Glad you could come. Please come inside.” Then he looked at the news crew. He looked back at Fitzpatrick with a questioning look.
“Nice to see you again Stan. This is Sasha Walken and Josh Bradshaw with NBC. They are going to be tagging along with me today and doing some filming of the work that is going on,” Fitzpatrick explained.
Both of them shook hands with McClelland. McClelland looked back at Fitzpatrick. He nodded, but still looked confused.
“How are things going, Stan?” Fitzpatrick continued.
“Things are going very well,” Stan said, steering Fitzpatrick towards the door.
Inside the building, the activity was less than he had seen two weeks ago. Fitzpatrick noticed three state agency workers talking to a Stan’s right hand man, Pete Morrow. He wanted to ask Stan what was going on, but he didn’t want to do it with the media here. He turned to look at the news crew.
“Sorry. I have a meeting to go to right now. You are free to walk around outside for a while and get whatever tape you need. I saw a food truck, so you can get yourselves something to eat. The meeting shouldn’t take too long. Then we’ll take a trip into some of the more damaged areas and I’ll show you what is being done.”
“Sounds great, Mr. Fitzpatrick. That’s what we were hoping to see,” Sasha said. “We’ll see you in a little while then.”
“Okay.” He watched as they walked back out the door, then he turned to Stan. “Can we meet in your office for a few minutes?”
“Of course. “
Fitzpatrick dropped his suitcase off at the secretary’s desk and then followed McClelland to the back of the building. There were two doors. One he knew was McClelland’s office. They went in the second door. It was a conference room. The last time he was in this room was just hours after the hurricane hit the area. The six-foot oval table sitting in the middle of the room had had detailed topographical maps all over the top and representatives of state and federal agencies who were here to help the victims of Hurricane Marco. Now, the room was quiet, all the decisions made and implemented. Fitzpatrick walked around to one side of the table and placed his briefcase on top of the table. Then he sat down.
“Can I get you something to drink?” McClelland asked.
“A glass of ice water would be nice.”
McClelland nodded and walked out the door, giving the order to his secretary sitting outside
. Then he returned to the table and sat down across from Fitzpatrick.
“So, how is it really going here, Stan?” Fitzpatrick asked, folding his arms on the table.
McClelland leaned back in his chair. “It’s going very well. People still have needs, but we are getting what they need. We are at a point now where I can anticipate how much of what we need and get it ordered. Only takes a short time before the semi’s come in. It has worked like clockwork. Oh, of course, there are some people who have had complaints.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, that the aid didn’t get here before the storm was even over, for one. They just didn’t realize we aren’t going to put our people in danger before the storm clears. We got what they needed and now they are happy.”
“How’s it been going with the state agencies?”
“Very good. I am in contact with the Texas Emergency Management every day. The National Guard finished their umpteenth check of the areas just after you left the last time. Then the Governor ordered them to leave. Since then, the focus has been on sustaining the needs of those still in the rescue centers, getting the debris cleared out and the getting the people back in their homes.”
“How have the mobile homes been received?”
“Very well. As you know, many of the people in these towns are older. Their kids either live in the town too or live elsewhere in the country and they simply didn‘t want to leave. So, they jumped at the chance of getting a mobile home put on their lots. Once the debris was gone, the mobile homes came in and they were able to settle in their new homes. Since the mobile homes didn’t have furniture, the Texas Emergency Services worked with the Red Cross and found beds and a few basic pieces of furniture, along with some clothes to replace what was lost. It is enough to get them started.”
