Fly by Wire: A Novel (32 page)

^{"Because we have less than twenty-four hours."}

^{"Twenty-four hours until what?" the president queried impatiently.}

^{"I don't know. But look at the pattern. On each of the last three days there has been a strike of some sort. It might not be further suicide attacks -- but if something else occurs it will likely be on the same schedule. You see, I fear we've totally misread the motivation for these attacks. And if I'm right, I might be able to reverse engineer to discover who is really responsible."}

^{The president kept staring. Then, very slowly, his head began a series of nods that gradually increased in amplitude. On the fifth, he said, "All right, Coyle. Whatever you need, you've got it."}

^{Chapter
THIRTY}

^{Smoke swirled around Ibrahim Jaber as he worked on his laptop, a thin blue haze that drifted by the room's subtle currents. An empty soup can served as his ashtray, and next to that a cup of hot cereal gone cold stood waiting. As he pecked at the keyboard, Jaber thought the apartment seemed cool. He had already turned up the heat twice, but wind whistled through cracks at the fourth-floor window. It was an urban breeze, the air outside having accelerated to squeeze through the narrow passage between buildings. Bernoulli's Principle, he mused. The same concept that gave his airplanes flight.}

^{When Jaber finished his work, he began composing an e-mail to his wife. Contemplating the words, he sampled the cereal. It was decidedly bland, but he kept spooning it to his mouth, knowing it was one of the few things he could keep down. The medicine was helping less now. It no longer touched the pain. Yet Jaber resisted the urge to up his dosage. To do so would dull his mind at a time when he needed all his wits about him. Just a little longer.}

^{Jaber stared at the flashing cursor as he arranged his thoughts, the hard reality setting in that these could be his last words to his wife. He began:}

^.

^{Dearest Yasmin, I am about to begin my final journey home. I cannot say when, or even if I will complete this voyage, so it is time for you to know more. My work for the last two years has been the most challenging of my career, and also the most rewarding. Soon, you will be told many things regarding what I have done. You may be confronted by many people. Some of what they will say is true. Other parts, less so. I ask only that you trust in this -- all I have done is for the benefit of you and our sons.}

^{My condition has not improved, and thus you shall soon be alone to care for Asim and Malik. Others may intervene, offer to help you. From them, take what you will, but always trust in the arrangements we have already discussed. Above all, tell no one of the existence of this account.}

^{As for you, Yasmin . . .}

^.

^{Jaber's fingers hovered over the keyboard, motionless, like a concert pianist about to address a demanding passage. So much came to mind he did not know where to start. A knock on the door startled him.}

^{Jaber instantly looked at the window. He had pulled the curtains back to allow the rising sun to enter, hoping for a little added warmth. It had been a mistake. He could be seen from outside, and so now he had no option of ignoring the caller. Jaber quickly tabled the cereal and folded his computer without even shutting it down. He went to the curtains and closed them. With no time to stow the laptop under the hidden floor panel in his bedroom, he shoved it into a bookcase behind a tall row of scientific reference books.}

^{He went to the door and opened it cautiously. His gaze sharpened when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" Jaber asked in a harsh whisper.}

^{She tromped in without invitation, wheezing as she passed. "That's a lot of stairs you got out there."}

^{Jaber shut the door and watched her collapse into his best chair, the springs pinging under her weight. He went over and drew the curtains shut. "Why are you here? We cannot jeopardize things now. Less than a day remains." Jaber had more to say, but his words were interrupted by a coughing spell. Retching and struggling for air, he dropped to the couch for support.}

^{"You don't sound so good," Fatima said. "You taking your medicine?"}

^{Jaber nodded as he recovered.}

^{She pointed to an old television. "You been watching the news? Caliph's martyrs, they doing a good job."}

^{"Yes, I know." It had long perplexed Jaber that so many young men and women could throw their lives under the bus that was militant Islam. But then he considered the economy of Egypt and her neighbors. A man who was well fed, prosperous enough to care for his family, would never consider martyrdom. But a man who was hungry and desperate -- he might go to any extreme. This Jaber knew only too well.}

^{"What about you?" she asked, disturbing his thought. "You finish that update thing, huh? Caliph, he wanted me to ask."}

^{"Of course, yesterday." Jaber looked at his watch -- it was now seven in the morning. "Seventeen hours remain."}

^{"So how you do that? By computer or something?"}

^{"Yes, my personal laptop has the software codes. But as I warned, we are now at the point of no return. The navigation updates are uploaded every two weeks. By the time the next one comes--"Jaber's voice trailed off. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped until one showed. Feigning hospitality, he turned it toward Fatima.}

^{She cackled. "No. Those things will kill you."}

^{He found some amusement in the fact that Fatima's answer had come in a raspy voice. Jaber recognized it as the kind of resonance a woman acquired, one cured by a lifetime of harsh tobacco and shot-grade whiskey. He lit up, then tensed as she reached for the framed photograph next to his chair.}

^{"Pretty wife," Fatima said. "Good looking boys, too." She held it up high in one hand, like a lawyer displaying evidence to a jury. "Caliph, he's gonna take good care of them."}

^{Jaber said nothing. He willed her to put it back down. "What about this bothersome American, Mr. Davis?" he asked. "Caliph was supposed to do something about him."}

^{"Yeah, I know. He got some guys to do that, but they screwed it up. That's Algerians for you." Fatima chortled again.}

^{Jaber was left to wonder if she was speaking of the same men who had been at his own side three days ago. If so, the fact that they failed did not surprise him.}

^{Fatima got up and went to the window. She pulled aside one of the curtains Jaber had just closed and studied the street outside. "This a pretty good view," she said.}

^{Jaber wanted to tell her to keep it closed, but he clenched his teeth tightly. Again he felt the cold, and he could not stop his thoughts from drifting a thousand miles away to the resilient warmth of Egypt.}

^{Fatima began to wander the room. "You got that computer here?" she asked. "In this place?"}

^{Jaber was very tired. So tired he nearly told the truth. But then something else came out, from where he had no idea. "No, I keep it in the safe at my headquarters office in Marseille. It must be kept secure at all times."}

^{Fatima nodded, kept moving. "That's smart." Her great figure swayed under layers of cloth. Thankfully, she ended up by the door. "Okay. I'll tell Caliph everything is ready. That will make him happy."}

^{Jaber watched as she let herself out.}

^{As soon as she was gone, he went to the door and threw the bolt. He walked slowly to his chair, eased down, and took a long draw on his cigarette. If there was any consolation to his condition, it was that he would never again have to endure Fatima Adara.}

^{Jaber had always considered himself above Caliph and his lot. Blinded by rage, they were such simple people. Not stupid, or even uneducated. Just simple. Fatima, of course, was a heathen. But the rest were so predictably pious -- ruled by religion, and thus inseparable from the currencies of faith, hope, and prayer. A man of science, Jaber had never bothered with such delusions. He had been drawn into this unclean affair by a faith in other currencies, the denominations far more practical.}

^{Caliph had offered assurances regarding the long-term security of his family -- yet here Jaber had taken matters into his own hands. He would trust no one else when it came to Asim and Malik. He had found some distaste, of course, in what they'd asked him to do. But he also could not deny the excitement, even the pleasure he derived from it all. There was a distinct sense of satisfaction when one outsmarted the world.}

^{Jaber looked at the picture next to his chair before closing his eyes. Soon it would all come to an end. And then he would find peace.}

^{Chapter
THIRTY-ONE}

^{They woke up early, entangled in the sheets. Entangled in each other. Davis wasn't sure who was the first to stir. There was only gentle movement, an arm under a shoulder, a foot under a calf Here and there, give and take, until light began to register at the window's edge. They didn't make breakfast for another hour.}

^{At the restaurant, they lingered. Both hungry, both unrushed. They talked about the Air Force Academy and the 2000 Olympic trials. Daughters in Virginia and cabins in Colorado. Not a word was said about the investigation. It was a magnificent diversion from their work, a continuation of what had started last night. When the check eventually came it landed with a thud, like some kind of grim subpoena demanding their appearance before the real world.}

^{They headed south to Marseille on the A7, passing through the region known as Provence. Davis knew the area well, and so he knew there was no specific federation or administrative boundary to claim the name. It was more of a culture, really. A mind-set. The geography of Provence was varied, gentle hills and abrupt massifs, all ceding eventually to the Mediterranean at the southern limit. Life here was slow, adaptive. The marks of man fell into flow with the mistral, the cold, dry wind that whipped down the Rhone valley with such fierce regularity that most farmhouses faced south to keep their backs to the maelstrom. Davis noted that the mistral was active today, the trees showing a stronger than usual southward tilt. He concluded, summing the cold and distinct lack of sun, that the Provence of mid-winter was not the Provence of tourist brochures.}

^{The road was wet from an overnight rain, and the tires of their Fiat 600 hissed over wet asphalt, punctuated by the occasional splatter of puddles into the wheel well. Reflecting the greater European way, driving in France was one part mode of transportation, one part sport. Sorensen held her own, negotiating the manual transmission smoothly as she maneuvered through the mid-morning rush.}

^{Davis found himself watching her. She looked better than ever, fat lip and all. Or maybe his perspective had just changed.}

^{She caught his stare and smiled. "What?"}

^{"I was thinking you handle the car pretty well."}

^{"The car."}

^{Davis grinned.}

^{She went back to the road.}

^{He went back to her.}

^{"Roundabout," she announced.}

^{A distracted Davis looked up and saw a traffic circle closing in. Acting navigator, he referenced the map. "Straight through, the A7. No, wait--"}

^{The signs at the intersection came fast, and thin wisps of fog had begun to bring the visibility down. They missed their turn.}

^{"Sorry," he said, giving her the correct road.}

^{"No problem. I'll bet even Lindberg got lost once or twice."}

^{"Once or twice."}

^{Sorensen kept in the circle and found their road on the second pass.}

^{Davis' mood descended. A relationship with Sorensen was only going to complicate things. But then, how much more complicated could they get? A vision came to mind of the Fiat going round and round in the traffic circle, stuck in an eternal left turn and going nowhere. Just like his investigation.}

^{He said, "So did you find out how Bastien got in charge of this fiasco?}

^{"Sort of. The Bureau Enquetes-Accidents assigns all the spots on the board. Their original choice to head up the team was another guy -- I
t
hink his name was Fontaine. Anyway, he pulled out and recommended Bastien."}

^{"This all had to happen pretty fast," Davis said. "The airplane only crashed a few days ago."}