Flight Risk

by Cara C. Putman

  “In their usual conference room with coffees.”

  After she dropped her briefcase in her office, Savannah grabbed a mug of fresh coffee and then headed to the small conference room. Once again the two were hunched over their phones, but this time they were on opposite sides and ends of the small conference table.

  She closed the door behind her and took a seat at the end of the table. It put her closer to Rochelle, but she didn’t think John would care. “Spill it.”

  Rochelle met Savannah’s gaze. “I spent the weekend at Mnemosyne trying to figure out the way our software ended up on that plane. Do you want the good news or bad?”

  Savannah adjusted the legal pad she’d grabbed and then took a sip of coffee. “I’m an attorney, so I’ll go with bad news for $400.”

  Rochelle blinked, while John shook his head. “It’s more serious than that.”

  “Sorry.” Savannah rubbed the back of her neck. “What can you tell me?”

  John looked up. “Is everything we say covered by attorney–client privilege?”

  “Yes.” She dragged out the word as she considered the possible implications of his question.

  Rochelle pulled out a page of notes. Her hand trembled as she spread it out on the table. “There were four people in the company with the ability to release the code.” She recited the names. “John, our tech guru, Alphonso in security, and me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ve confirmed John used his unique login on Wednesday, December 9. He’s the one who put our software on that plane.”

  John snorted. “Like you have the tech skills to pull off that little bit of Nancy Drew.”

  “Don’t forget I have a degree in computer science, John. It’s one of the reasons you hired me. I was a woman, had a business background, and the tech degree. You called me the perfect package and then forgot what I brought to the company.” She leaned into the table. “When you hired me you asked what I was willing to do. How far I would go to protect the company. This is how far. I can’t let you get away with murder, because that’s what it was when you released our tech on that plane against a court order and without my input. We were partners, John.”

  Savannah heard Rochelle’s accusations with the certainty the woman had just confirmed the conclusion she’d reached Friday.

  “John, did you do it? Did you put that tech on the plane and bring it down?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” John’s lips turned up in a sneer. “I’m the one who developed the idea. I begged family members for investments. I brought you on so we could do great things to protect people, and instead we got stalled by a lawsuit. And you wanted to let the system handle it. Well, for two years, we’ve lingered in a holding pattern thanks to not attacking the lawsuit.”

  “John.” Savannah leaned into the table and waited until he met her gaze. “How did you do it?”

  He crossed his arms like a petulant toddler and clamped his lips together.

  Rochelle’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not sure the company can recover from this, but John needs you to negotiate with the government on his behalf.”

  “No, I don’t.” He cracked his knuckles. “Drop it. I don’t need another mother.”

  “True. You need a Jiminy Cricket.” She looked at Savannah. “What do we do?”

  John pushed back from the table, and in a smooth motion pulled a gun from the small of his back. “I told you to be quiet.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Savannah looked at the small revolver and then at the man holding it. “John, calm down. Put that away, so we can talk.”

  “My partner”—he sneered the word—“can’t leave well enough alone. She believes in my ability even less than my father did. All she does is dig, dig, dig to catch me doing something she doesn’t like.”

  She glanced from John to Rochelle and read the shock on Rochelle’s face in her slack jaw and wide eyes.

  “Together you’ve built an amazing company with the potential to do powerful things.”

  “Only if we win the lawsuit. Do you know what it’s like to build a company from scratch? To ask your grandma for money? To tell your dad that you’ve got companies like Boeing interested, only to have him ignore you because he’s fixated on your dead sister?” He slammed a hand on the table and Rochelle jumped.

  “John, breathe.” Savannah’s mind raced as she tried to think how to get him to surrender the gun. “What do you want?”

  “I want her to quit questioning me. I’m the one who has to tell Grandma she can’t have her money back. Not Rochelle. Not you. Me. It’s always on me.” He sighted down the gun at Rochelle. “I told you to quit looking into the accident. It has nothing to do with my company. Maybe it was cosmic justice, perfect retribution for the sake of truth.”

  “Our company.” She met his gaze defiantly. “And if that’s the case, prove it. You were the only one to log in on Wednesday, December 9. You uploaded the software. Violated the injunction. You did that.”

  “You have no idea what I did.” He turned his attention to Savannah and jabbed his finger at her. “You just never stopped. Always more questions. Always wanting to know the truth of what happened. Like you think the truth will set us free. The distraction worked until Rochelle started nosing around again.”

  The distraction? Savannah’s mind raced through what he’d said. “You hit my car.”

  “Never saw that coming, did ya? You couldn’t make the lawsuit go away. Instead you were failing at every turn, but we have to win. Then I heard that attorney talking with his client. His client’s even more broke than we are, and he’s plotted to keep things going as long as possible and bankrupt us. They know they can’t win. But they can destroy us by delaying. And you couldn’t even see that.”

  “So you rammed my car to get my attention?” She shook her head as she made eye contact with Rochelle. “No. To distract me from focusing on you. Why?”

  His breath was hot on her face. “You were getting close. Asking all the wrong questions.” She had to find a way to alert the others.

  “Rochelle didn’t get interviewed by the FBI until the next day.”

  “True, yet every question you asked as we prepared for the subpoena showed you were getting close. Wondering if I’d done something. It should have been a mystery that never got solved.”

  “How could you use our code for a personal vendetta?” Rochelle asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “I had a buyer for the company. If I could prove it worked, I would finally be free of the pressure of trying to keep Mnemosyne afloat. First the buyer wanted to see it in action. I could pay my family back for their investments, get my dad off my back, and go anywhere I wanted. Freedom.”

  Savannah glanced at Rochelle. Her mouth was gaping like a fish as she listened to her partner spin his tale. Then she snapped out of her fog. “Why use it on a full flight?”

  John shrugged. “It fit. But then the plane crashed and the buyer disappeared.”

  “Why would you risk putting it on the plane?” Savannah watched the gun that didn’t budge as he pointed it at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were violating the court’s order, but there was the concern about the software causing a power surge.”

  Rochelle nodded. “That’s why we planned to halt the tests before the injunction.”

  “And that kind of power surge could bring down a plane.”

  John frowned. “That’s wrong. I didn’t cause the crash. It was just a terrible accident. That’s what you’ve insinuated for days.” There was a thin crack in his tough veneer as the gun wavered for a moment.

  Rochelle reached toward him. “You’re right. Until you pulled the gun, you just needed legal help for loading the software in violation of the injunction. I waited to tell Savannah until it was clear we didn’t cause the crash.” She ran through a technical explanation of how she knew the software didn’t cause the crash. “This is one of those tragic times where a series of events
cascaded to the crash. Because our software was on that plane, I know it. You didn’t cause it.” She reached toward him. “Put the gun down. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But Mnemosyne is done. The lawsuit is going to fail.”

  “I can’t help you with that piece. But I can tell you with certainty that the captain became distracted by a false positive alert on the deicing system. Then the lead flight steward asked a question, and the flight didn’t get deiced at the gate a second time. It was that simple, and that complex. Like so many other accidents, this one was a combination of pilot distraction and system error. Because of the weather and the fact it’s National, it would have been almost impossible to get the plane up.” There was compassion in her eyes as she looked at her partner. “Sometimes history does repeat itself.”

  Savannah’s mind spun for a solution to get John to put the gun down, while the words John had spoken earlier were sticking to her mind like Teflon to a frying pan. “John, please put the gun down.”

  He stiffened. “No.”

  “Perfect retribution for the sake of truth?” Savannah tried the words on her tongue. “Sounds like Shakespeare. Does your dad often talk like that?”

  “Did you know that Logan dying in the crash was a sign?” As Savannah shook her head, his face collapsed and the gun wavered again. “Neither did I, but good ol’ Pop did. Said it was the perfect retribution for the sake of truth. Who talks like that?” His fists were clenched on the table, and he almost vibrated in his seat. “I hate the man who killed my sister because he destroyed my family.”

  Rochelle frowned. “Your sister?”

  “Little Gracie Martin. The perfect daughter. Her death was like a nuclear bomb destroying my family. Then this stupid lawsuit is going to kill my company? I don’t think so.” His gaze hardened. “But you couldn’t do your job. So I tried to help motivate you to be careful and think, but it didn’t work.” His finger quivered on the trigger.

  Time was running out.

  She had to keep him talking.

  “You’re not making sense.” But even as she said the words, Savannah felt the pieces click together. “Your father is Agent James Martin.”

  “So?”

  “Did he kill Dustin Tate? Evan Spencer?”

  “You’ll have to ask him someday.” He sighted down the gun. “I’m done talking and will walk out of here. But you won’t.”

  Time was up.

  Savannah knew that if the police hadn’t arrived by now, then none of the gals understood what was happening in this conference room. She had to stop him herself because she was not going to let him harm anyone. She lunged across the table but he remained in place, gun extended but frozen.

  Savannah karate chopped his arm and grabbed at the gun as she yelled, “Someone call 911. We need the police.” He might not have pulled the trigger yet, but his fingers seemed frozen around the barrel. She needed help to end this nightmare.

  Rochelle squeezed his wrist while Savannah continued to wrestle for the gun. The door crashed open and a uniformed officer hurried into the room. He drew his gun. “Everyone, hands where I can see them.”

  Chapter Forty

  Jett stood in his woodshed, but not even the tools his grandpa had used could settle his racing thoughts.

  He had become just like the reporter who carelessly wrote the story that led to his father’s suicide. His article had led to Dustin’s death. While it wasn’t suicide, the man had still died because Jett had framed him as being involved in human trafficking.

  He leaned heavily on the wood that someday would become a table.

  How had this happened? He’d been so careful. Everything had been confirmed by the fact-checkers at the Source, and he’d still been horribly wrong.

  He’d painted the group as deviants instead of as heroes.

  He picked up the plane and threw it across the shed. It clattered against the wall as he fell to his knees. “God, what have I done? How can I make this right?”

  The image of Addy’s tear-stained face was seared in his mind. A sound behind him barely registered.

  Then something cold and metal was pressed against his neck.

  * * *

  Savannah’s mind spun with the implications that John Martin had intentionally put the software on a plane in violation of the court’s injunction. Even more, she tried to grasp the implications that he was Agent Martin’s son. Had the man understood his son was the one behind the software being on Flight 2840 or had he guessed well? Savannah needed to head home and soak in a bath with soft music playing in the candlelight. Anything to ease the tension of the longest day.

  She had new clarity about the crash and Dustin’s death, but she wanted to talk to Detective Jensen about a growing certainty Agent Martin was involved in Dustin’s and Evan’s deaths. She’d left a message to update him on John Martin’s role in her hit-and-run and the revelation he was Agent Martin’s son, but the detective hadn’t responded yet.

  After she locked up the law firm she sat in her car for a minute. Jett hadn’t responded to her earlier texts. Maybe she should swing by his home first. Make sure he was okay.

  All his efforts had been laid bare as built on a foundation of illusion, and three men had died as a result.

  It had to be devastating.

  She tried calling him, but he didn’t answer. A drive-by then.

  She pulled into a drive-through for a couple of sub sandwiches. He probably hadn’t eaten and if his fridge looked anything like Dustin’s, he’d need food. It also gave her something to carry as she walked to the front door.

  At his home she rang the doorbell and then waited, shivering as she waited.

  Christmas was definitely in the air with the cold temperatures, but the snow from the storm that had brought down Flight 2840 had long since disappeared, leaving the world gray and dead.

  Jett didn’t come to the door, but she heard a noise behind the house and headed that direction. He’d mentioned he had a workshop of some sort back there.

  She froze as she heard voices.

  Maybe coming unannounced had been a bad idea.

  She stood at the side of the house, uncertain whether to go forward or back to her car.

  * * *

  Jett stiffened, but didn’t say anything.

  “Figured it out, did you?” The man’s voice was unfamiliar to him.

  “What?”

  “Who the fourth man is.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The man snorted, but the metal dug deeper into his neck. “You’re a liar. Usually that wouldn’t be a big revelation. We expect that of our journalists.”

  Jett tensed and fought the urge to launch to his feet. He didn’t know who was behind him or what he’d do with his weapon. “I’m telling the truth.”

  “Well, you did write an exposé on the ugly underside of the rich and famous.”

  Jett tried to shift, but the man shoved the gun a little further. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  He froze. “Who are you?”

  “You can call me an avenger. Going after those who harm the innocent.”

  “I don’t harm the innocent.”

  The man gave a short laugh. “I didn’t think so, so you’ll tell me who the fourth person of that little band is.” The metal—a gun?—pressed deeper into his neck.

  Jett’s watch buzzed, alerting him to a text. Good thing notifications were silenced, so whoever was behind him didn’t notice. But he couldn’t chance moving to read the scrolling message. He needed to keep the man talking and distracted.

  Since the man wouldn’t freely give his identity, Jett took a stab at it. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”

  The man shifted behind him. “You know nothing.”

  “I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  “You have no idea.” He pulled the gun away, then pushed it into Jett’s back. “To your feet, hands over your head. I want you to see my face as I complete this task.” />
  Jett slowly stood, then pivoted. Saw the gun aimed center mass with steadiness. His gaze traveled to the man’s face. “Agent Martin.”

  The man gave a slight bow of his head.

  “You used Grace’s account, and language from the tweets matched the letter left at Dustin’s.”

  “Maybe you should have been the agent since no one else has figured that out.”

  Jett bit back the words that it wasn’t true. No, he’d protect Savannah from Agent Martin even if it meant he had to die to keep the man from knowing the extent of what she understood.

  “Does your crusade end here? With me?”

  He cocked his head and considered. “It should. But there’s one more person from the merry band to kill before they hurt anyone else.”

  That didn’t sound promising.

  “What if I had proof Dustin and Logan were doing good things in Thailand? That they were on a mission to help girls like your daughter.”

  “Not possible. Logan Donnelly”—the man spit out the name—“received his judgment. So did Dustin Tate. Both were held accountable.”

  “What about Evan Spencer?”

  “A pawn. Logan did the planning, and Dustin got them there. Still, the man received his due.” The gun wavered, just a moment, but long enough to give hope the agent was tiring. “Now I need the name of the fourth man. Your article was silent on that.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Ironic, isn’t it. The story ran incomplete.”

  The man had no idea. “Dustin had gold and jewels in his safe deposit box.”

  “So? That means nothing. I want a name.”

  “But it does.” Jett knew that changed everything. “They were buying freedom for those that couldn’t be rescued any other way.” He swallowed hard against the bile that wanted to erupt. “They were heroes in every sense of the word.”

  * * *