The president hung up the phone. “Get me Jack Riley. Then the Secretary of Defense and General McFarland.”
“Sir, please, you cannot deploy the military on US soil without declaring a state of emergency,” Bard warned. “And even then, you need explicit requests from state governors. It would be viewed as a severe intrusion into—”
“I don’t care about states’ rights,” the president shot back. “And you’re wrong. I have the absolute power and authority to deploy federal troops anywhere in the country in a national crisis, and I’m going to take action. I want a presence. An overwhelming presence at all airports. We need to screen everything and everyone.”
“Sir, there’s no need,” Bard said calmly. “The airports will shut down per your order. That will show you’re in charge.”
The president glared at him. In charge of what? An incompetent Department of Homeland Security that can’t stop aircraft from crashing to the ground like paper toys?
“I want a thousand soldiers patrolling every airport. I want them hand searching every single passenger and opening every piece of luggage.” He nodded confidently. “The military will assist the airlines. They’ll board every aircraft just like the Israelis. Soldiers, scanners, even polygraph machines if we have to. Everything. We’ll open every single piece of luggage on every single plane, then put it through the scanners, and then let the canine units have their way. Or better yet, we’ll simply disallow all luggage. That’ll work. It has to.”
“Mr. President,” Bard interrupted the tirade, “two pilots and two technicians are dead. This was a cargo jet flying from San Diego to San Francisco for routine maintenance.” The president looked at his chief of staff quizzically. “What’s your point?”
“There was no luggage, sir. It was empty.”
“You smug idiot. Are you insinuating that I need counseling?” Ross’s ex-wife yelled through the phone. “Don’t you ever suggest that again. We may be divorced, but I’m still the tenant, and you’re still the landlord. I demand to be treated with respect. The weeds in the front lawn look like a jungle to the point of embarrassment. The railing in my hallway is loose, and so is that same piece of carpet on the stairs. I came home the other night with a friend and nearly fell. Oh, and by the way, Brad is twice the man you ever were. When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know,” Ross answered, shifting the phone. “We’ve got three major investigations running simultaneously in three major cities. This is entirely different than 9/11. At least with those crashes, we knew the cause. We don’t have enough people to support the work on this one. I can’t just up and leave.”
“I despise you and your misguided loyalty. Can’t you even answer a simple question?”
“I’m sorry,” Ross said evenly. “It’s the best I can do.”
“The best you can do,” she said disgustedly. “Did you know…”
Marcia continued to talk, but Ross wasn’t listening anymore. A sudden realization had come to him. He wasn’t angry; he wasn’t frustrated. In fact, he actually smiled before hanging up. As he did, he felt a sudden euphoria. This was an opportunity for a clean break and a fresh direction. She’d receive the move notice at her office via registered mail in a few days. For the first time in months, he had clear insight into who he was and what he wanted from a relationship. Good riddance.
There was a knock on the door.
Riley stormed in and clicked the TV remote. “I’ve been calling. Who have you been talking to?”
“A bad connection.”
The breaking news showed a helicopter’s view of San Diego’s Mission Bay, six miles northwest of the airport.
“The media know what’s happening even before we do,” Riley observed.
Ross’s face was drawn, the pain obvious. “Whoever’s doing this has us running all over the country. The NTSB can’t handle it anymore, Jack. We need help. It’s gone beyond our ability.”
“It’s about to get worse,” Riley said, reading a news scroll announcing expected financial market futures. “Bridge said the president is ordering another nationwide shutdown until the military can put armed soldiers on all commercial flights. One more thing: Congress is in emergency session, and your organization is on the agenda. They’re thinking that the NTSB can do more good in this crisis by assisting law enforcement task forces than by staying so isolated. If the recommendation is accepted, then you and your teams will be reporting to me until further notice. All other investigations and work efforts will stop, and resources will be redirected and made available to Homeland Security. We need the expertise, pal.”
“Firearms on aircraft is a horrible idea, Jack. Is that even legal?”
“Nobody knows anything. The whole country is in chaos.”
“What do you need from me?” Ross asked.
“Physical evidence.” He snatched the plastic bag on the tabletop containing the mysterious red plastic wing. “The president’s coming down on me — hard. At this point, I’ll take anything. Is there any way this thing has significance?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Ross said. “One thing’s for sure — it came from somewhere or something. We need more time.”
Riley’s cell phone chirped.
After a brief conversation, he raised his arms. “There is a God, after all. A webcam operating in Fiesta Bay Park in San Diego captured the whole flight path on film. We’ve got live video of the explosion. It came from under the cockpit.”
Chapter 39
Riley sucked the last of the liquid from a plastic water bottle and neatly replaced the cap. Numb from hours of nonstop video meetings with field teams, he sat on the floor, staring dejectedly at a stack of unread investigation progress summaries. He yawned at the television. The sound was barely audible, but he managed to hear a cable news roundtable guest claim that the airline crashes were caused by shoddy maintenance and that the president was culpable for not adequately funding the FAA and its inspectors.
Riley tossed the bottle across the room at Tom Ross, who was curled up on a sofa. It landed directly on top of his head, giving off a loud but harmless bonk.
“Turn that idiot off,” Riley said with considerable annoyance. “News commentators who allow people to bloviate without supporting facts should find another job.”
Ross snorted and reached for the remote.
“When can I go back to my old job?”
“When the skies are safe, and not a minute before,” Riley said, rubbing his eyes. “Did you ever have that pain in your side looked at?”
“It hasn’t bothered me lately, but I gave up the pumpkin seeds.” Ross stretched. “I’ll be in my room. I need two hours.”
Riley turned his head suspiciously. “Your room or Neela’s?”
“Mine,” Ross answered firmly. “Besides, she’s still in New York. She’s driving back Wednesday.”
“That job offer?”
“Uh-huh. And get this — she’s supposed to be interviewed on Fox’s national morning news show. They want to hear about her embedded assignment. She’s really getting popular. Unfortunately, I’m not real keen on long-distance relationships. We’ll have to see.”
Ross pressed what he thought was the TV remote’s ON/OFF button. Instead, it was the “favorites” button, and the screen flipped to the Discovery Channel. He found the right button, and the screen went black.
Riley was in the middle of a deep yawn when he suddenly leaped to his feet.