Fly by Wire: A Novel (15 page)

^{She said, "Have you read this article?"}

^{"No, but let me guess --
Suicide suspected in air crash."}

^{"That's pretty much it. Bastien has to prove it now, doesn't he?"}

^{"Not much choice."}

^{"And what about you? Are you going to try and disprove it?"}

^{He paused for a long moment. "I will be a pattern of all patience."}

^{Her gaze grew pensive. "That's Shakespeare.
King Lear."}

^{"Is it? Damn. Thought I had it first." The phone in his pocket vibrated. Davis said, "Excuse me."}

^{He saw a text message Jen had sent last night -- for some reason it was just now reaching him. She was still fired up about the dance, convinced that to miss it would be ruinous, a social disaster of cataclysmic proportions. He pecked out a response:
Will talk tonight after school
. Davis snapped the phone shut and shook his head, exasperation seeping out. "Women," he fussed.}

^{"Daughter driving you crazy?"}

^{Davis paused, looked at her closely. "Yeah." He topped off his cup, taking his time. "Tell me, Honeywell, have you been out to the crash site yet?"}

^{"No. Have you?"}

^{"Yesterday. It's always the first thing I do."}

^{"Why is that?"}

^{He considered it. "Like I told you, I'm a visual guy. I like to see the big picture."}

^{"And did the big picture tell you anything?"}

^{"It told me lots of things. For starters, nothing is missing."}

^{"I beg your pardon?"}

^{"Jammer's first rule of accident investigation -- look for things that should be there, but aren't."}

^{"Such as?"}

^{"My first investigation was aT-37. A training airplane. It went down out in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico, one pilot dead. My partner and I found the wreckage easy enough, and on the first look we noticed something strange -- the two main landing gear were gone."}

^"Gone?"

^{"Completely missing -- no wheels. By the scars on the ground you could tell which way he'd come from, so we hiked back in that direction. Haifa mile later we came to a mesa, one of those big oval plateaus with a flat top. We still didn't see anything, so we went around it, and at the base of the far side we see a pair of main landing gear, nice as can be."}

^{"How did they get there?"}

^{"That's what I wondered, so we climbed to the top of the mesa -- which wasn't easy. And do you know what we found?"}

^{Sorensen shook her head.}

^{"Skid marks."}

^{"Skid marks?"}

^{"Lots of them. You see, the top of this mesa was very flat, and apparently it had become sport among the local instructors to drop in during training flights and do touch-and-go's. Until one guy came in too low. He sheared off the landing gear, and that took out his hydraulics. From there, he lost control of the jet. Too low to eject."}

^{"So this guy was just out messing around? I can't believe a pilot would do something so dangerous."}

^{Davis eyed her. He fell silent and his gaze turned hard.}

^{"What is it?" she asked.}

^{Davis did not reply. Very deliberately, he picked up the spoon Sorensen had just used to stir her coffee, held it over the table, and slowly bent the stem to a ninety-degree angle.}

^{Her words came in the measured cadence of forced calm. "What are you doing, Jammer?" The good humor that had framed her was gone, lost under his attack on the flatware.}

^{"Tension or torsion?" he asked.}

^{"I beg your pardon?"}

^{"Did this metal fail in tension or torsion? Anybody with rudimentary training in crash investigation would know"}

^{Sorensen drew a deep breath, looked down intensely at the table -- if she'd been drinking tea, he might have thought she was trying to read the leaves in her cup. Davis dropped the deformed spoon on the table. It clattered when it hit, and a few other patrons looked their way.}

^{"What gave it away?" she asked.}

^{"A few minutes ago, when I took that message. You asked me if my daughter was driving me crazy."}

^"And--"

^{"And I never said I had a daughter." He held up the wedding band he still wore. "You should have deduced I was talking about my wife. But then -- you already know my wife is dead."}

^{The silence was extended. No more pert expression or snappy comebacks. "Jammer, look--"}

^{He raised an index finger to cut her off, then deliberately moved his hands to grip the cloth at the sides of the table -- as if at any moment he might turn the whole thing over. His voice fell low and ominous. "Who the hell are you?"}

^{Sorensen bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have been upfront with you."}

^{"Upfront about what?"}

^{Her next words were quiet, yet distinct. As if she didn't want to say it twice. "I work for the CIA."}

^{"CIA? As
in Central Intelligence Agency?"}

^{She nodded once. "Jammer, we need your help."}

^{Chapter THIRTEEN}

^{"And here I thought I was doing great with you," Davis said, his eyes boring into her. "What the hell does the CIA need me for?"}

^{"Its a long story. I--"}

^{"Wait a minute!" he interrupted. "Larry Green, my boss back at the NTSB, said the director had requested me by name for this assignment. Did the CIA
put
me on this investigation?"}

^{There was no shake of the head, no quizzical expression. "Honestly, I don't know anything about that. I was only told that you might be able to help. I know you're a top-notch investigator, Jammer. You speak French. And you were a career military officer."}

^{"Which means what? That I'll follow orders? If that's what you think, your file on me isn't very complete. I'm a known troublemaker. My performance reports from the Air Force are riddled with words like 'headstrong' and 'uncompromising.' I don't like bullshit. Right now I'm trying to think of one good reason why I shouldn't dump this whole carnival and go home!"}

^{Sorensen kept to her hushed tone. "I'm here to monitor the investigation, but I need help. I'm walking into a minefield and I need you to guide me through."}

^{"How? By stepping on them? Since when do spooks get involved in aircraft accidents?" Davis considered the question himself. Then it hit him. "Wait a minute. Are you suggesting that a terrorist act brought this airplane down?"}

^{"We have no direct evidence of that," she said. "But the agency has been watching CargoAir for some time."}

^{"CargoAir? Why?"}

^{Sorensen explained that the CIA had been monitoring CargoAir for months. The big consortium had a heavy dose of financing and ownership from countries not completely trusted by America. Then she produced a photograph from her handbag and laid it on the white tablecloth. Clearly she'd been anticipating this little confessional. The image was of a man and woman sitting at a cafe table.}

^{"You probably don't know either of these people," she said.}

^{Davis looked at the picture, shook his head.}

^{"The guy's name is Luca Medved, he's a Russian national. And he's also the chairman of the board of CargoAir."}

^{"Okay, I'll bite. Who's she?"}

^{"Her name is Fatima Adara."}

^{"Never heard of her."}

^{"Not many people have. But we've definitely linked her to the most wanted man in the Western world -- the terrorist known as Caliph."}

^"Caliph?"

^{"You've heard of him?"}

^{"Sure, everybody has. But isn't he in Iraq?"}

^{"He started there. But lately we've been finding his fingerprints all over the world." Sorensen was getting back in stride, confidence returning to her voice.}

^{Davis looked closer at the photograph. Grainy as it was, he could tell the woman wasn't much of a looker.}

^{Sorensen said, "Fatima Adara is his messenger, the only one as far as we can tell."}

^{"So what does this have to do with me, with this investigation? You can't think CargoAir is tied up with Caliph."}

^{"We don't like what we've been finding out about CargoAir. The company has been around for five years, yet the organization and financing are very unusual. Most of its backing comes from oil-rich states, and the management team has been pretty darn elusive for a publicly traded corporation. In certain ways, it almost functions like a shell company."}

^{Davis argued, "Rumor has it they make a pretty good airplane. It's been certified by the FAA and Europe's EASA, no easy hurdle. Over a hundred C-500s are flying, and this crash is the first real problem."}

^{"Yes, but we see it as an opportunity."}

^{"An opportunity for what?"}

^{"To get inside the company, get a good look. This crash forces their hand -- CargoAir will have to let the investigators in, let them see everything."}

^{Davis sat back in his chair. "So this isn't about finding a cause for the crash of World Express 801. It's about spying on CargoAir, looking for links to Caliph. You think the company might be funneling money to suspicious local groups or carrying a few of the wrong people on the payroll. Maybe they're even providing material help to terrorist cells. Operating with suppliers in so many countries, they must send and receive a lot of hardware. Lots of crates and boxes, stuff that probably gets minimal inspection."}

^{She nodded. "You're a quick study, Jammer. We don't know the exact form, but yes, something like that."}

^{Davis locked his gaze appraisingly on a woman he had liked ten minutes ago. She cocked her head and a wave of blonde hair slid over one shoulder. Her eyes were blue, open and clear. Too clear for such jaded work. And they pleaded for help. Davis looked hard for something else. Guile, flecks of dishonesty. It just wasn't there.}

^{"Jammer, the CIA is scouring Europe and the Middle East for this guy. We're stretched thin, and I'm in way over my head here."}

^{"Somehow I doubt that."}

^{She implored, "We could work together on this."}

^{"That's one more person than I'm used to dealing with."}

^{Sorensen seemed to make a decision. Her tenor changed to one of pure business. "All right. I wasn't truthful with you. I'm sorry, Jammer. You go your own way. But I have to ask one favor."}

^{Davis raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue.}

^{"I'll
never get through this if
I
don't have some credibility, some
idea
of what to do. I need to know the basics. Meet me at the accident site and show me what to look for, explain how this investigation is going to run."}

^{He deadpanned, "So you want a -- crash course?"}

^{"Yes," she volleyed back, no trace of humor.}

^{He looked at his watch. "All right. Its eight twenty. Meet me at the site this afternoon. One o'clock sharp."}

^{"Deal," she said.}

^{"Oh -- and I want something from you."}

^{She hesitated. "All right. If I can."}

^{"I met a guy yesterday, Dr. Ibrahim Jaber. He's the lead engineer at CargoAir, in charge of the C-500 program. I want to know all about him."}

^{"What makes you think I can--"}