Authors: Dee Henderson
He was finally beginning to understand her. Reading the cases she had worked had been informative, tense reading, but informative. Most of the files had partial negotiation transcripts attached. Kate’s ability to deal calmly with violent men surprised him, even though he’d seen her do it. It was as though she became someone else in those moments of time. He had read the cases and seen a remarkable similarity. Nothing seemed to ruffle her. There was an extra terseness in her case notes when it was a domestic violence incident, but it was the only change he had been able to find.
Her unflinching ability not to step away made it possible for her to resolve situations no one else would go near. He saw in those case notes a cop whose compassion made her long for justice.
He closed his eyes, fighting the emotion stirring within him. If he had intentionally defined the traits he hoped to find in a woman—in the woman he would love—he could not have done better.
But she didn’t believe. Might never believe after this.
Lord, why this? How do I explain to Kate a plane blowing up? I saw it in her eyes, the image of every victim. How does she ever believe when this is what You ask her to accept?
He’d thought often about her comments about God, trying to find the right words to deal with her questions. Kate had a
reasoned
disbelief, and he felt helpless to overcome it, especially now. Her own statements showed more careful thought than most people gave to God:
“Does it seem logical to pray for God to stop a crisis that, if He existed, He never should have let begin?
“My job is to restore justice to an unjust situation. If your God existed, my job should not.
“I see too much evil. I don’t want a God that lets that kind of destruction go on.”
They were good questions.
It took a strong faith to face the violence and still believe the sovereign hand of God had allowed it for a reason—a reason the human mind might never comprehend—not as a capricious act of fate.
Lord, couldn’t You have stopped this? So many families are grieving tonight. How am I to understand this? How am I to explain it to Kate? It’s as though You’re pushing her away rather than drawing her closer to You. It makes no sense. She may close the door to considering the gospel because of this, and I don’t know what to do. This situation has become a turning point.
Words flowed through his mind then, but not what he’d expected.
“O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! ‘For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?’”
Being reminded God didn’t often explain himself didn’t help. Dave sighed and punched the pillow into a ball. He was drawn to Kate, and it was an uncomfortable reality. He did not want this kind of complication in his life. He simply wanted a chance to be her friend, present the gospel, and keep his heart intact in the process; instead, he had someone threatening her, his protective instincts humming, and his emotions entering a freefall.
Lord, if someone gets to her before she believes…
S
leep well?” Dave was leaning against a support post when she came back from washing her face. Kate looked at his alert face and sighed. She borrowed his cup of coffee.
“That bad?” He dug sugar packets out of his pocket and smiled. “Finish that and I’ll get you its cousin.”
“You better find its double cousin. I need a transfusion of caffeine.”
“Bad dream?”
She shook her head. “My couch is more comfortable.” The bad dreams had been there in full force last night. It had been the bomb in her hands exploding, becoming the plane exploding—then a scramble to pull out victims at the bank, pull victims out of the wreckage.
Dave turned her around and set about rubbing the kinks out of her neck. She leaned into the warmth of his hands, sighing with relief. “Better?”
She rolled her neck and for once it didn’t pop. “Much.”
“They’ve moved the update meeting in the east conference room to 7
A.M.
; Marcus said he would meet us there.”
“They made progress last night.”
“Sounds that way.”
They walked to the administration building. Kate stared across the tarmac. The water used the day before had created an area of low rising fog that shrouded the wreckage. It was an eerie white cloud given what she knew was behind it.
“I’m sorry you had to see it happen.”
“It’s hard to brace for something like that. I was watching the clock, knew something might happen, but I never imagined it would be the plane landing.” She worked on the coffee. “It was a bright orange flash in front of the wing, and then it seemed to walk back to the engine and the big explosion hit; the plane ripped apart. It shook the tower.”
“Are you going to be able to forget it?”
“You know, I probably will. It’s too hard to retain an image that shocking. The image of the kid that gets shot is harder to erase.”
“How are you holding up?”
“No better or worse than anyone else here. What about you?”
“A bit terrified when I heard you were mentioned on the tape.”
“Why?”
“My experience with situations like that means someone has you in his crosshairs for a rifle shot.”
“You’ve protected people like Marcus does?”
“Occasionally. Any of that coffee left?”
She slowly offered his coffee back.
Dave grinned at her reluctance, then tasted the brew. He promptly grimaced. “You like it
really
sweet.”
She chuckled. “Sugar helps the caffeine.”
“Remind me to buy you some gum so the sugar doesn’t rot your teeth.”
“If it’s not sweet coffee, it’s candy. Sorry, I live on sugar.”
“And you’re not hyper?”
“Not that anyone has been willing to tell me.”
“This explains why you never stop on the basketball court.”
“Are you going to make excuses for losing like the rest of the guys?”
An easy smile played at the corners of his mouth at her mock outrage. “They do, huh?”
“They don’t want to beat a girl.… I was born a jumping bean.… I have home court advantage—they get more creative as time passes.”
“Did you play in high school?”
She went cold. “No, I never did.”
He rubbed her arm. “Touch a nerve?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head. “I played some in college though.”
“How many times did you foul out?” A soft laugh underscored his words.
She knew her look was defensive and couldn’t help it. “I was used to playing with the guys.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Listen, buddy, don’t knock my game.”
“It’s a compliment. The way you can take a charge I’m surprised you haven’t busted that pretty nose.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You have?”
“Jack. Then Stephen had to pack it while he was doing his best not to laugh. It wasn’t amusing.”
“Who won the game?”
“It’s one of the few we’ve suspended.”
“I like that about your family. They can put up with you.”
“Hey!” She shoved his chest for that remark, even as she grinned.
He caught her hand and tugged her back. “Face it, you would terrify most guys.”
“Why?”
“You like to play on their turf.”
“Does it bother you?”
He looked at her, amusement making his blue eyes sparkle. “Why should it?”
“Someone needs to deflate that ego a bit.”
“You can try,” he offered, his look daring her to accept.
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a laugh but it bubbled inside. “You’re worse than an O’Malley.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It probably was, but I didn’t intend it to be.”
“Indian giver.”
“Give me back the coffee.”
“Greedy, too.”
“No, just not awake.”
He gave the coffee back. “I think I like you when you haven’t had enough sleep.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He held open the glass door to the administration building. “After you.”
She sighed and pushed aside their banter to face the work of the day. They were a few minutes early, but the conference room was filling up fast. Dave went to get them two Danishes and more coffee for breakfast.
“Food. Maybe it will help you wake up.”
She took the coffee he held instead. “Where’s the sugar?” He chuckled and tossed her several packets. “Thanks. Now I’ll take the food.”
He held out the Danish. “Apple or cherry?”
She lowered the coffee cup long enough to consider the options. “Apple.”
Bob called the meeting to order. “This is the T+20 hour update. I understand there is now physical evidence it was a bomb. What do we know?”
“We know it went off inside the first class cabin, not the baggage storage. That it went off under a seat, probably in row three or four; that’s still being worked on,” the NTSB representative replied.
She scrambled for a pen. Nathan Young. Row four.
The judge was in row two.
“Components?”
“Not yet. The airframe metal gave us the first class area and the seats the blast pattern.”
Bob looked over to Elliot. “Have we identified everyone who worked this plane?”
“The people inside—maintenance, food service, preflight, mechanics—we’re at thirty-nine. The interviews will be complete by midafternoon. Baggage handlers, fuel, et cetera, give us seventeen more.”
“Do we know if the device was brought on board the plane here?”
“It may have been taped under the seat during the flight from L.A.; one theory is the bomber arms it just before he gets off the plane here.”
Dave frowned. Big hole. We didn’t look at who got off the plane.
Ben will have their pictures. We saw them get off in that video clip we watched.
Bob glanced around the table. “Anything on how it could have gotten through security?”
Elliot shook his head. “We’re working on it.”
“What about the phone call?”
The FBI representative spoke up. “Three cellular towers in this vicinity picked up the call at different levels of power. The cloverleaf of coverage extends about two miles. A series of tests this afternoon to duplicate the power levels should give us the precise location.”
Kate started playing with scenarios. They had a call made from this area at 11
A.M.
It was a small fact, but a useful one. If they could pin it down to inside a terminal at O’Hare, they would be able to focus on the security tapes.
The meeting was brief, with the next one set for 7
P.M.
, pending additional news. Kate stayed seated as she finished her list. “Dave, if the bomb is inside the cabin, that puts at the top of the list—airport personnel with access to the plane, passengers that got off the plane, and possible targets in first class, two of them being Nathan Young and the retired judge.”
“Agreed.”
“I vote we take a hard look at the people who got off the plane, then we focus on background checks of everyone in first class.”
Marcus leaned against the table beside her. “What are you thinking?”
“A bomb inside the plane, under a seat, small enough not to be noticed by passengers as they settled in, suggests it might not have been designed to bring down the plane. The fact the plane was landing at 11:15 could not have been planned. Maybe the bomb was only intended for someone in first class. That implies the bomber knew where his target would be sitting. Nathan Young was a last minute walk-on. His seat assignment was not known until minutes before the flight.”
“So of the two on the list in first class, the judge becomes the more likely target, and we lose the connection to you.”
“Which is why we had better take another look at who was seated in first class.”
Marcus nodded. “Run with it.”
Kate handed Dave back his pen. He accepted it and tilted his head toward the door. “Why don’t you head on up to the workroom? I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Kate glanced at Dave, then Marcus, and got to her feet. “Don’t be long.” They were conferring without her, which meant she was the likely topic of conversation. If she didn’t know the details, she could avoid having to get mad at them. It was an amusing reality, but it had kept the peace in the family for decades. Marcus squeezed her hand and let her slip past.
The workroom looked much as it had the day before. Case files surrounded Susan, Ben, Graham, and Debbie. They were deep in a debate over the list of names on the board. Graham smiled when he saw her and pulled out a chair. “Welcome to the war room.”
“Making progress?”
“We’ve been able to eliminate about a third of the suspicious cases so far. What’s the latest?”
“Evidence suggests the bomb went off under a seat in the first class cabin, possibly row three or four.” That news got everyone’s attention.
“Interesting.” Ben reached for the seating chart. “Only twenty-four people in first class. Susan, where’s the latest updated list of passengers?”
“Here.” She handed over the printout. “They’ve confirmed another nine names.”
“Who was around Nathan Young?”
Susan penciled in names on the chart. “He was here, in seat 4
C.
Across the aisle to his left was the oil company V P. Directly in front of him, two sales reps from a pharmaceutical company—Vicki Marstone and Peter Alton. Judge Succalta is here, in 2
D.”
Kate frowned. “A nice cluster. Put the bomb under seat 3
C
and they are all possible targets.”
“Do they know anything else?”
“Not yet. Can we set up that videotape again? I want to look at who got off the plane.”
“Sure, it will just take a couple seconds to rewind.” Ben handed over a red folder. “These are the still photos you can use as a reference. I counted nineteen people who got off the plane, three of them crew.”
“Is there any way to find out which of them might have been seated in first class?”
Susan found a faxed printout. “This is the L.A. seat assignments.”
“Thanks. Any chance we could get a copy of the security tape from L.A.? I would love to know if someone had carry-on luggage there and left the plane here with nothing in his hands.”
“I’ll put a call through to the agent working the L.A. connection.”
“This is briefing T+32 hour update.” Bob called the evening meeting to order. “What do we know about the bomb?”
Kate hoped they had something. It had been a long, grueling day with little forward progress given how promising the day had begun. A look at the people getting off the plane, the first class passengers, had revealed nothing new. They had spent hours in the old case files, and it felt like she had been reliving them all. It was frustrating to know they were this close and not have someone to focus on.
The NTSB coordinator got to his feet and turned on the overhead projector. “It was under seat 4
C
in first class. That makes it under the seat of a Mr. Nathan Young.”
Kate let out the breath she had been holding. They were going to be able to explain the reference to her name, not have to dig through her ancient past.
“We’ll come back to Mr. Young,” Bob decided. “Tell me about the bomb. Components?”
A transparency went down the overhead. “We’ve got a seared briefcase that appears to have been punched from the inside out; a laptop appears to have been carrying the device.”
A briefcase? Dave scrawled. Someone would notice if a briefcase were left on the plane.
Nathan was carrying a briefcase. She hesitated. Suicide?
No. Someone wanted him to carry the bomb that would kill him.
Revenge with malice.
Yes. Someone consumed with anger. Dave paused. And he’s angry with you, too.
Thanks for the reminder.
Another slide. “The bomb appears to have been inside the battery pack. Note the way it blew. There were metal plates at the back of the battery pack to send the explosion out through the briefcase instead of into the laptop. The machine itself is remarkably intact for the nature of the blast, considering it was found embedded in the airframe.”
“What type of explosive was used?” Bob asked.
“Chemical analysis has just begun. Based on the size of the device, it was probably C-4, not quite a quarter of a brick.”
“How was it triggered? Was it set to go off at a specific time, or did someone have to arm it?”
“We’re still looking for components to determine that.”
Bob nodded. “Tell me about Mr. Nathan Young.”
Dave referred to the bio they had assembled to answer that question. “Forty-seven. Caucasian. Married eight years, no children. His second, her first. MBA Harvard. He owns four banks in Chicago, six in New York, and recently bought one in Denver.”
“The obvious question: Did Mr. Nathan Young know there was a bomb in his briefcase? Was the laptop his? If it was, who had access to it recently? Who would have reason to target him? We’ll meet again tomorrow, 9
A.M.
”
The meeting broke up into smaller clusters of people.
“A bank president killed by a bomb he may have unknowingly carried on board, a brother who was a drug dealer killed on the same plane. Henry Lott angry enough last week that he planned to blow up one of Nathan’s banks,” Kate summarized. “We’ve got a lot of questions to answer.”