by Gina Cresse
So far, he had found nothing to lead him to any conclusions. He wandered downhill, away from the crash site, and started kicking the dirt around in a clump of charred trees. Something shiny caught his eye—the mangled remains of a metal box that appeared to have had a run in with a tree—and the tree won. Frank inspected it suspiciously, bagged it up, and noted a description of the strange item for his preliminary report. It would have to be sent back, along with the black box, and inspected closer to be identified. Frank knew it wasn’t any standard equipment from the airliner. He was intimately familiar with every piece of airplane hardware—from the computerized navigation devices down to the toilet flush handles. After careful consideration, Frank decided to deliver that item to the lab himself rather than sending it down with the black box. He put it in his pack and continued his investigation.
When Frank arrived at his office in D.C., his superior, along with high-ups from both the FBI and CIA, were waiting for him. “What’s the word on the Mexico disaster?” Carl Hobson, director of the CIA, asked—even before Frank had a chance to sit down.
“I’m just fine, Carl. How are you and the wife and kids?” Frank replied, doing little to ease the tension in the room. Frank was not the type to be pressured or rushed. When he was ready to give his opinion, he would put it all in his report and make it part of the official record. Until then, he wasn’t about to speculate or jump to conclusions.
“Sorry, Frank. We’re just anxious to get to the bottom of this. The crew on that flight was one of the most experienced in the field. The White House wants to assure the American public it wasn’t a bomb or some other form of terrorism. We can’t have the whole country getting nervous and afraid to fly because of this.”
Frank opened his pack and placed the mangled metal box on his desk. “I’m not so sure the American public shouldn’t be nervous about flying—especially when something like this can be placed in the baggage compartment without being noticed.”
They stared in silence. “Is it a bomb?” one of them asked.
Frank shook his head. “No. To be honest, I don’t know for sure what it is. I don’t want to say what I think it might be, at least until the guys in the lab have a look. For all I know, it might be part of some kind of new stereo equipment.”
Frank’s boss, Hal, picked up the box and carefully inspected it. “Frank, I’m going to have Clara take this down to the lab right now, while we’re meeting. The sooner they get on this, the better. I’ll be right back,” he said as he left the room with the box. The discussion continued during his absence. By the time Hal returned, Frank was ready to dismiss everyone so he could get to work.
“I have a lot of work to do before I can have a preliminary report ready for you. I was planning to take a vacation next week, but I guess I’ll put that on hold until we get this ironed out,” Frank told the group.
Hal spoke up. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Frank. You can take a couple days to put together your preliminary report, and the boys in the lab can put the rest of the picture together. Go ahead and take your vacation. When you get back, everything should be ready for your final stamp of approval and we can put this thing to bed.”
Frank eyed his boss curiously. It wasn’t like Hal to be generous with time off. If he had his way, no one would ever take a vacation, a sick day, or for that matter, a weekend off. “That’s okay, Hal. I can reschedule for another time.”
“No. I insist. If I ruin this vacation for Helen, I’ll never hear the end of it. Your wife will tell my wife what an ogre I am, and I’ll be sleeping on the couch for the next three months.”
“Well, okay Hal. If you insist,” Frank said, still a little confused, but pleased just the same. The personnel in the lab had the most work to do on this case, anyway.
“Where are you going this year?” Carl asked.
“Helen and I are taking a trip up to Alaska. I’ve wanted to take the Thorp on an extended flight ever since I finished building it.”
“Really? That’s a pretty small plane, isn’t it? How are you going to carry the required survival gear over Canadian airspace and still have room for luggage?”
Frank chuckled to himself before he replied. “I had a heck of a time convincing Helen we should take the Thorp. She wanted to cruise the inside passage and go in luxury. I had to promise her when we get there, I’ll buy her a whole new wardrobe. Before we return home, we’ll have all her new clothes shipped back here.”
“Big mistake, Frank. You should’ve done the inside passage—would’ve saved yourself a bunch of money,” his boss joked. The group laughed as they filed out of Frank’s office.
Frank laid the preliminary report on his boss’s desk. “Here you go, Hal. When I get back from Alaska, I’ll go over the data with the boys from the lab, and we’ll put our stamp of approval on it.”
“Thanks, Frank. You and Helen have a good time, and be careful.”
“I will. See you in a couple weeks.”
Frank picked Helen up and drove straight to the airport. He had already loaded the plane with survival gear and fuel. He just wanted to do a last minute check of the engine to make sure everything was in good condition. Helen sat in the cockpit, reading one of her romance novels while she waited. Frank had built the little experimental plane from the ground up—intimately familiar with every single detail on it. Frank’s keen eyes carefully felt their way over every hose and line—every nut and bolt—every rivet and fastener. He noticed something unusual and pulled a screw driver from his tool kit. He removed a small object from an obscure section of the oil line and inspected it carefully, then walked over to the opened Plexiglass cockpit.
“Helen, get out of the plane,” he said.
“What’s the matter?” she asked as she climbed out onto the wing and stepped gingerly down onto the asphalt.
“I forgot something at the office. Why don’t you have a cup of coffee over in the coffee shop while I run back and get it.”
“Okay, honey. What did you forget that’s so important?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you later. Could you keep an eye on the plane from the coffee shop for me? Just make sure no one comes around it. I’d hate to lose any of our gear.”
“Sure, honey,” she said as she marked her place in the novel and headed for the airport restaurant—she seemed puzzled by her husband’s abrupt change of plans.
Frank returned to the office and walked silently down to the lab, avoiding being seen by anyone. He peered through the window in the door. Hal sat on a workbench, his back to the door. He fingered the electronic box from the crash site with one hand and held the phone to his ear with the other. Frank watched him for several moments. When he hung up the phone, Hal stood, placed the box under his arm, and said something to the lab personnel as he carried it toward the door. Frank ducked out of sight before Hal exited the lab.
Frank made his way quietly back to his office and pulled a file from his cabinet. He carried the preliminary report on the Guadalajara accident to a copy machine and began making copies. When he heard footsteps coming toward the copy room, he quickly ducked around the corner behind a large file cabinet.
Hal’s secretary approached the busy copy machine and watched curiously as it proceeded to make copies while unattended. She looked around the room to see who was minding this job, then gazed at the stack of documents she had to copy and turned around and left.
Frank breathed a sigh of relief and emerged from behind the file cabinet. He hoped she hadn’t paid enough attention to the machine to notice the specifics of the documents being copied. When the machine finished, he gathered up everything and slipped back to his office. He replaced the original report in his file cabinet and placed the copies in his flight case. Frank left the building, having gone unnoticed, then he returned to the airport.
“Did anyone go near the plane?” he asked Helen.
“No. I watched it the whole time. What’s wrong Frank? You’re acting very strange.”
“
I’ll explain after we get in the air. I just want to go over the Thorp one more time before we take off.”
Four hours later, after he had practically taken the whole plane apart and put it back together, he was satisfied that all was safe.
“Okay. Hop in,” he said to Helen, who had finished her novel and was starting a new one.
“No way, Frank. You’re crazy if you think I’m getting in that plane the way you’re acting. You’ve just given it the bomb-sniffing-dog treatment, and I’m not stepping one foot closer to it until you tell me what’s going on.”
Frank explained that he had discovered a barometric pressure sensitive explosive device attached to the oil line during his first inspection. It was a small explosive—just enough to rupture the oil line and cause engine failure. It probably wouldn’t have been triggered until the plane was going over the highest mountains of their trip, where an emergency landing would be impossible.
Helen struggled to get her words out. “Why in the… what would… who in the world would do something like that, Frank?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I have a suspicion. Anyhow, the plane is perfectly safe now. You have to trust me. The safest thing we can do is just get out of here. I have a plan. I’ll explain it on the way, but I need you to be with me on this. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, a little uneasy, then something in her demeanor changed. “Oh. Why not. Beats the heck out of these crazy dime store romance novels.”
Frank gave her a smile.
“Reminds me why I ran off with a daredevil air force pilot in the first place,” she said, then forced a laugh.
The Thorp taxied to the runway and took off, heading northwest. The one-hundred-eighty-mile-per-hour cruising speed allowed Frank several days to formulate his plan. Frank and Helen came up with a scheme they thought would be effective. They practiced it several times, then, when the time was right, set it into motion.
Somewhere over Canadian airspace, Frank got on the radio to flight service. “Mayday! Mayday! This is Thorp N4075K. I have an emergency! I’ve lost all oil pressure and my engine has stalled. I’m on a flight plan from Port Hardy to Prince Rupert. There’s nothing in sight but mountains, trees, lakes, and a whole lot of ocean. I’m going down! I’m going down!” Frank shouted. He even had Helen a little nervous.
Helen played along and screamed as if she were a hysterical passenger faced with impending disaster. “Oh my God! We’re going to die! We’re going to die, and I haven’t even seen Graceland yet!” Helen frantically shouted. She picked up a map and bonked Frank on the head with it.
Frank ducked her swat, eyeing her with surprise.
“Oops. Sorry,” she mouthed, realizing she had gotten a little carried away with her role.
Frank announced again that his engine had quit and he was going down. Finally, he cut the radio off and changed his course. The next time the little plane would get an extended rest would be in the Bahamas.
Chapter Eight
San Diego—1996
After parking the Jeep in the marina lot, I pulled the brief case and the U.E.B.— short for unidentified electronic box—from the passenger seat. The tape wasn’t holding very well, so I carried the case hugged close to my body like a bag of groceries. It was nearly dusk and the sunset on the Pacific was particularly breathtaking. I made my way down past the marina office when I noticed two men stepping onto my boat. I quickly sidestepped behind the office and peered around the corner to see what they were up to. They were too far away to see any real details, and I couldn’t hear them at all. One was tall and slender and wore a ponytail. The other was shorter and stocky, with a shaved head. My heart pounded. What were they doing? I could see the tall one trying to get down below. The other man appeared to be searching around the deck for something.
For a brief moment, I contemplated taking the gun from its case, marching bravely down the dock and confronting the pair. Luckily, Mr. Cartwright appeared on the scene and interrupted the intruders before I mustered up the courage to play policewoman. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I could see my neighbor pointing in the direction of the Grille restaurant, and then toward the marina office. Quickly, I ducked back behind the wall before they spotted me. I counted to twenty, then slowly peered back around the corner to see what was going on. The two men were climbing off my boat. Mr. Cartwright watched as they made their way back up the dock toward the marina office. I slipped behind a tall bush growing in a planter next to the front door. As the pair passed, I could hear bits of their conversation.
“We’ll have to come back later, when the nosy old guy is sleeping,” the taller one said.
“I don’t see why we didn’t just taken him out.”
“You idiot. It’s broad daylight.”
“But—”
“Just shut up!”
Those were the last words I could hear clearly. I stayed behind the bush and watched as the pair got into a black BMW with tinted windows. They sped off, out of my view in less than a minute.
I hurried down the dock and stopped in front of Mr. Cartwright’s boat. “Good evening, Miss Lace. A couple friends of yours were just here looking for you. They seemed a little insistent on staying on your boat, but I convinced them to come back later—when you were here. They just left. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t pass them on your way in.”
“Really? Did they say what they wanted or who they were?” I asked.
“No. Just that they were friends of yours from way back, and they wanted to invite you to some sort of party or reunion or something. Funny, they didn’t exactly look like the type of fellows you would associate with. Very rough looking. You know?”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound like anyone I know. Thanks for getting rid of them.”
“Any time, Miss Lace.”
I smiled and tried to appear unfazed as I stepped onto my boat with my case and mystery box in tow.
Everything seemed to be where I’d left it when I departed that morning. The other case and the computer were still sitting safely in my closet. I stowed the second case and the U.E.B. in the closet next to them and shut the door. It would to be dark soon—I had to act quickly.
I checked my fuel level. The tank was nearly empty, and I didn’t have time to stop and fuel up. I had to get out of the marina before it was too dark. I started the engine and checked my gauges. Quickly, I scooted along the rail toward the bow and untied the lines to the dock. I pulled up the fenders as I made my way back to the stern and liberated my boat from the confinements of the dock. Slowly, I backed out of my slip as Mr. Cartwright watched with undivided attention. I waved and smiled as I carefully made my way around all the obstacles in the marina and headed out toward the open sea.
I could still see the lights of the marina by the time the sun was completely down, but I felt I was out far enough to be safe that night. I didn’t dare go any further with my fuel situation the way it was. I dropped anchor and settled in for the night. I didn’t have a plan yet, but I was working on one.
I called Jason’s number and he picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Jason.”
“Dev. What’s going on?”
“I’m out on my boat right now. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure, Dev. What is it?”
“Can you get over to the marina and get my Jeep? I need you to take it over to your place tonight. You know where I keep the spare key?” I asked.
“Yeah. What’s going on, Dev? Why can’t you bring it over yourself?”
“I’m literally out on my boat. You’ll have to bring the Jeep to me when I decide where I’m going. Right now I need to get it away from the marina. Listen, Jason. I need you to do it now, while it’s early, not later tonight. Is that okay?”
Jason paused. “No, Dev. I’m not doing another thing for you until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Jason. I promise I’ll tell you everything when I see you tomorrow. But right now, I need your help. Will you do it for me? Please?”
He buckled, as usual. “Okay, Dev. But this is the last time, unless you keep your promise and tell me what the devil is going on. Understand?”
“I understand. You need to get over there right now. If you see anyone hanging around my slip, just leave. Don’t go anywhere near them, and don’t let them see you take my Jeep. I’ll call you tomorrow when I dock to let you know where to bring it.”
“You’d better keep your promise.”
“I will,” I said, then powered off my cell phone.
I made a sandwich and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Rifling through a stack of books I kept in a cupboard over the dining table, I spotted what I was looking for, and I pulled the book down from the shelf. The Fine Art of Sailing. I’d picked it up just before I bought the Plan B, but hadn’t had a chance to read it. I settled down in a chair on the deck with a lantern, my dinner, and the book, and started to read.
It was past eleven when I finally checked my watch. I closed the book, picked up my empty plate and the lantern, and went inside. I lay in bed, noticing every movement of the boat. It was very dark and quiet out there. I dozed off a couple of times, but a disturbing dream kept jarring me out of my sleep. Around three in the morning, as I tried to fall back to sleep, I heard the faint sound of an engine in the distance. I got up and felt my way to the door. I didn’t want to put on my anchor lights, but I didn’t want any boats to run into me, either. Scanning the horizon in the direction of the sound, I spotted lights coming toward me. Would those two thugs actually procure a boat and come looking for me? That was ridiculous. They could have no hope of finding me out in the vast ocean, in the middle of the night. I was just being paranoid. But still, I watched as the vessel made its way past my position and proceeded north—probably headed for Catalina Island. I went back to bed and tried to think of a plan.
It seemed like an eternity before the sun finally began to peak over the horizon. I sat up in my bunk and peered out the window to check the weather. It was barely light enough to make out the shape of something strange, just off of the starboard side. I strained my eyes to focus on the object. Oh my God, it’s a boat. I jumped out of bed, frantically searching for my deck shoes. Just as I got the second one on, I could see the hatch door latch turn. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I just sat there, paralyzed with fear. Then I heard a familiar voice inside my head telling me, Don’t panic. Never panic. It won’t help.
