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Fractured Nation

Page 19

by Kurt Winans


  “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

  “Do you remember that helicopter we cleared for departure during shift change on Saturday morning?”

  “Sure I do. You made a comment then about how the logbooks from the evening shift for its arrival were incomplete.”

  “That’s right, and I didn’t like that our counterpart was lazy in that regard.”

  “I remember, so what about it?”

  “Well I believe that same helicopter may be the one that exploded in Canon City later in the day.”

  The man’s mouth fell agape in disbelief, and then he replied, “You mean the one that authorities believe was involved in the attack at Colorado Springs?”

  “That’s the one.”

  After several seconds of reflective thought, his counterpart said, “Alright, I suppose that would be possible. But if we are to believe that’s true, then the authorities will want to hear your opinion. We need to contact the FAA and the local FBI so that they can talk to you, and we should attempt to call our evening counterpart to see what he has to say about the events of Friday night.”

  “That all sounds good to me. Which of those calls would you like me to make first?”

  Those subsequent calls made by each man were somewhat frustrating. In spite of multiple efforts, both were unable to contact the supervisor who was responsible for the helicopter being parked on the tarmac overnight. They then surmised that at the current early morning hour he would probably be sleeping for some time, and had perhaps turned off his phone. The FAA was thankful for the theory of the helicopter that was presented to them, but was more interested in continuing their investigation of the crash site in Canon City. Unfortunately they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, send an investigator to Centennial Airport for a few days. Although the most responsive, the FBI was still not fast acting. After listening to what Travis Connor had to say, the Denver field office agreed to have a pair of agents on site before the evening supervisor began his shift so that he could be questioned as well.

  With no other recourse, all that Travis could do while tending to his normal work responsibilities was wait for them to arrive. Finally at one thirty in the afternoon, two men dressed in black suits with authentic FBI identification and badges entered the control tower to begin their investigation. Travis explained how the helicopter had requested and received clearance for departure at roughly six on Saturday morning, but he was unaware of specific arrival details from the previous night. With their initial questioning of Travis and a look through the logbook completed, they too waited to speak with his counterpart who would arrive for his shift at two o’clock. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes after two that the agents became concerned.

  With the remainder of the morning shift having been relieved by the evening personnel, Travis turned to those whom he knew but rarely worked with. Then he asked, “Has anyone heard from your supervisor? As you already know, these two FBI agents want to speak with him. If anyone could offer some helpful information as to his whereabouts it would be appreciated, because in spite of his normal weekend habits, it’s not like your boss to be late for work.”

  None of the staff could provide any tangible information, but one of them did offer to call the man’s apartment again. To that offer an FBI agent responded, “Thanks, but if he hasn’t answered at home throughout the day, then I doubt that he will answer now.”

  Travis then said to the agent, “I’m willing to stay here on duty a few more hours if necessary, but the two of you need to tell us what we can all do to help you.”

  “That’s good of you Mr. Connor, but can we speak privately for a moment?”

  “Certainly, we can step into the hall.”

  After doing so the agent’s first question was direct. He asked, “Is there anyone on duty at this time that is qualified to take over for you?”

  Although somewhat surprised, Travis replied, “Yes, one of the staff on duty is the relief for the man you want to speak with. She assumes the role of supervisor two days a week.”

  “That’s good. Please have her relieve you right away.”

  “Alright, but can I ask why?”

  “A man we would like to question has not been heard from in two days.”

  “Yes, but that’s not so unusual for him.”

  “Perhaps, but your efforts to contact him at his residence throughout the morning have been unsuccessful. Now he is late for his shift, and by your own admission, that is unusual.”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Well Mr. Connor I believe that the two are somehow related, and the possibility of that merits further investigation on our part. Therefore I would like you to accompany us.”

  “Alright, but where are we going?”

  “The three of us are going to visit his residence.”

  With assistance from the property manager and his pass key, Travis followed the two FBI agents into the missing supervisor’s apartment. The main room was cold and nearly completely dark with only the minimal external daylight permeating through the thick curtains. However a faint illumination of an electrical light source could be seen coming from somewhere around the corner to the left, so before turning on additional lighting, one of the two agents asked the property manager, “What’s over that way?”

  “That’s the kitchen and a small eating area.”

  After instructing Travis and the property manager to retreat a few paces into the hallway and not touch a thing while doing so, the agent moved cautiously in the direction of the kitchen with his Glock sidearm drawn. Then he called out, “This is the FBI, is anyone there?”

  Not a sound was heard in reply, and he soon knew the reason why. Peering around the corner, he could see a motionless body slumped into an open refrigerator with a large pool of blood, other liquids, and various spoiling foods on the surrounding vinyl flooring. There were pieces of glass from bottles of beer and egg shells within the mix too, as several of each had broken when falling from the dislodged shelves. While his partner provided cover from behind, the agent flicked on the light switch for the kitchen and dining areas to ascertain if anyone else may have met with a similar fate. Then with that area secure from threat, he and his partner began a systematic sweep of the entire apartment. Upon completion they asked Travis to once again not touch anything while in the apartment, but they needed him to re-enter and identify the only body, alive or dead, that had been found.

  That process only took a few seconds, as the victim’s body had fallen forward in such a way as to see one entire side of the man’s face. With a quick look Travis said, “Yep, that’s him. There’s no doubt about it. Now aside from the obvious answer of him being shot and killed, what do you think happened?”

  “We don’t know at this time sir, but this man’s demise may help to support your theory about the helicopter. His obvious murder suggests a possible connection between him and the helicopter that was parked at your airfield on Friday night. It would appear, at least preliminarily, that he was killed by someone that he didn’t suspect would do so.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “His body position mainly. The man was obviously shot in the back twice while attempting to get something out of the refrigerator, but a person wouldn’t be doing that if they felt any danger. If I had to guess, I’d say that he was killed by someone that he had invited into the apartment. And whoever that shooter was, they made sure of his death by putting one more bullet into the base of his skull. This has the look and feel of a deliberate hit that was probably done to keep him quiet about something, and that something may have been his knowledge of what transpired on Friday night.”

  “Alright, I can follow that. But if that’s true, then what happens next?”

  “I will call the field office in a moment to initiate an investigation into this entire situation. It will begin almost immediately, and will include interviews with others who were on duty in the control tower Friday night. One or more of them may have noticed something that could help.”<
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  Less than an hour later, a forensic team from the FBI was dusting the apartment for fingerprints, and checking for hairs or any other evidence that could help to solve the mystery. Although many things were ultimately discovered with regard to his less than sterile existence, there was nothing that would reveal the identity of the dead man’s short term guest during the first hour of November fourteenth. Courtney was careful during her brief moments in the apartment, and as she had been expertly trained to do so, was quick and clean with her post murderous departure from the scene. Using her own handkerchief when turning down the thermostat to slow her victims decay and minimize the smell that would arise from it, Courtney assured that she would leave no fingerprints on that wall component or any of the light switches when darkening the apartment. Then by placing the cloth back into her purse next to her silenced weapon after closing the locked front door behind her, she had effectively become a ghost.

  Three hours after his eight o’clock return to duty at the White House, agent Heath Bishop remained at the ready no more than ten feet from President Harwell. His orders were to be at the beckoned call for whatever might be needed of him by the commander and chief, while also being sworn to secrecy with regard to all that he heard during various briefings and phone calls. Among many other things, agent Bishop had learned throughout the morning that there were still no nations or factions within the Middle East region claiming responsibility for the attacks upon the three American military academies. In addition, no radical Muslim influenced group in any part of the world had stepped forward either. To agent Bishop that seemed rather strange, because history showed that in nearly every case of terrorism, be it large scale or small, there had always been somebody claiming the credit for said action.

  Although his primary duty was to help protect POTUS from harm, as a Secret Service agent Heath Bishop was required to remain abreast of international news and current events that could directly or indirectly impact how that protection was provided. Heath had been trained and programmed to root out those who intended to remain in the shadows while hiding from the reach of civilized authoritative justice, and was therefore overly suspicious during the current unprecedented global silence. As such, even with the absence of a true enemy or suspect to pursue, agent Bishop would continue to search for clues that might unravel the mystery behind who had attacked America.

  Throughout all of the morning briefings, nothing much of anything was revealed other than frustrating excuses as to why little had been ascertained about the terrorists. But then one briefing finally provided something that a case might be built upon. Concluded roughly fifteen minutes earlier than the one currently underway, the content had held the focus of agent Bishop ever since. He thought about what had been conveyed, and how he, with the approval of the President, had become involved in the conversation when both of them were informed of something interesting occurring in Mexico.

  The director of Homeland Security had come into the oval and said, “Mr. President, The Mexican authorities have informed us that eighteen people scheduled for a flight from Mexico City to Sau Paulo Brazil on Monday morning were unaccounted for. When they learned of such a large number missing from the flight, the authorities did a little digging. What they discovered was that eighteen more people under different names had missed an earlier flight of Sunday morning from Chihuahua to Mexico City.”

  President Harwell had replied, “Alright, so that’s a lot of people to not make their flight on one occasion, let alone two. And you’re probably thinking that two flights on consecutive days with the same large number of missing passengers must somehow be more than just mere coincidence.”

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  “Alright, so assuming this information could be some sort of a lead, what significance do you place on the number eighteen?”

  That was when agent Bishop joined the conversation by saying, “Excuse me Mr. President, but I may be able to help with that question.”

  Turning toward the man, President Harwell responded, “Alright Heath, go ahead.”

  “Yes sir. We know that fourteen parachutes were used during each of the attacks, and eyewitness reports confirmed that a helicopter retrieved those of the Colorado Springs site. We also know that the perpetrators were subsequently transferred into two small corporate jets for their escape southward into Mexico.”

  “That’s right Heath.”

  “Well sir, the numbers do add up. If we assume one pilot in each jet, and a crew of two for the helicopter, then combined with the fourteen jumpers we get eighteen.”

  “The director of Homeland Security broke back in by adding, “Sir, that is a logical conclusion, and it was our assessment as well. I also have additional intelligence from Mexico that could help to clear things up.”

  “Very well director, please proceed.”

  “Yes sir. The Mexican authorities have reported locating the remains of two small jet planes that have burned off the end of a remote airstrip well south of Chihuahua. Not much of either smoldering aircraft remained by the time their investigation began, and the small amount of debris indicated that the jets had virtually melted under an intense heat for several hours.”

  “So they believe that the jets crashed while attempting to land?”

  “Yes sir they do. The belief is that the two planes overshot the runway and rolled into the desert causing something to ignite within them.”

  “And what do you believe?”

  “That explanation of the planes crashing seems plausible sir, and I have no reason at this time to believe anything different.”

  Agent Bishop then spoke up again by asking, “And what about the bodies director? Have the authorities located any sign of human remains?”

  Although insulted by the way a mere secret service agent had become involved in such a high level conversation, the director was smart enough to know that agent Bishop was highly regarded by President Harwell. Therefore he showed no emotional response to the younger man for having the temerity to suggest that the bodies hadn’t been taken into account. With a measured tone he replied, “That’s a good question agent Bishop, but nothing has been found as of yet. The fire was so intense that any bodies within would have been burned beyond all recognition. It will take more time for a forensic team to determine if the eighteen people we have been discussing were all lost in the crash.”

  “How about transport vehicles, eye witnesses, or something like that?”

  “What are you implying Bishop?”

  “Excuse me Director, but if the airfield with the crash is well south of their intended departure point of Chihuahua, then how were they going to get from one location to the other? There must be a truck or something out in the desert for their use!”

  “Bishop, if there was, it’s long gone by now.”

  Sensing the possible tension that could arise during a continued exchange, President Harwell said, “Alright, thank you director, and please keep me posted on any progress that is made. Now, is there anything else that you would like to add?”

  “Yes Mr. President. I have also received a report from the State Department. They have been in contact with the airport authorities in Sau Paulo, and agreed to pay a measure of cash for the information that was received.

  “Very well, and what did they uncover?”

  “It seems that the eighteen missing people on the flight from Mexico City were also intending to catch another international flight within hours after arriving in Sau Paulo.”

  “Indeed. And where were they attempting to go?”

  “Their flight was bound for Syria sir.”

  Samuel Tillman had gladly driven over to Austin solo on Tuesday afternoon, as the road trip gave him some uninterrupted time to think. The hotel of choice for the next two nights would as always provide the necessary amenities to keep him comfortable, and that included an exceptional service of pressing his suits. As he had set up a meeting with number three for Wednesday morning at nine o’clock in the man’s offi
ce, Samuel felt that a freshly pressed suit would help give the position to which that man had ascended a deserved level of respect. He also intended to enjoy a meeting and subsequent lunch with number five a few hours later, but the lunch aspect was contingent upon if her schedule would permit the time. If not, they would still have the meeting in her office, and in either scenario his pressed suit would extend the same courtesy of respect toward her position.

  When entering the outer office of number three, a staff member rose to her feet and said, “Good morning Mr. Tillman. It’s nice to see you again, how are you today?”

  “I’m fine thank you, and it’s nice to see you too. Is everything well with you and the family?”

  “Yes it is thank you, and we just learned that my daughter and her husband in Fort Worth are expecting a baby in late May.”

  “That’s wonderful news. Please give them my best wishes and my hope that the child will be born into a better nation than the one that exists today.”

  “I certainly will Mr. Tillman, and thank you. Now let me see if the Governor is ready to receive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Less than thirty seconds later, the Governor of Texas emerged from his office with extended hand, and said, “Hello Samuel, punctual as always I see.”

  “Good morning Governor. I find punctuality to be a trait that serves me well in business of any nature, and besides, I know you attend to many issues that can create a rather tight schedule.”

  “Well thanks for recognizing that I’m actually doing something while in this office Samuel. There are some that don’t believe as you do, and I’m not sure that I could ever convince them otherwise.”

  “Governor, many of those people just haven’t been paying attention. I wouldn’t worry about them too much.”

 

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