“Anyway,” I said, “technology only takes you so far, even if you’re the Kongs. They couldn’t get into the system, remember? No matter how many keys they punched, they couldn’t find the combination.”
“They got in.”
“They talked their way in. They put technology on hold and called up a human being on the telephone.”
“Some girl, wasn’t it?”
“And they sweet-talked her into giving up the password. They used that technique routinely enough to have a special phrase for it.” I groped around in my memory and came up with it. “Social engineering, that’s what they called it.”
“What you gettin’ at?”
“I’ll show you,” I said.
“Omaha,” Phyllis Bingham said. “To think there was a time when I booked you and Elaine to London and Paris. And now it’s Omaha?”
“How the mighty have fallen,” I said. “But I don’t want to go there. I just want to find out if somebody else did.”
“Ah,” she said. “Detective work?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And if he went there you have to chase after him?”
“I think he went and came back.” I handed her a slip of paper. “Probably flew out there on either of these dates, and returned on either of these.”
“From New York to Omaha, and—”
“From Philadelphia.”
“From Philadelphia,” she said. “I was just going to guess who flies nonstop from New York to Omaha, and I know America West used to, and I don’t know if they still do, but it doesn’t matter if he flew from Philadelphia. But who flies Philly to Omaha nonstop?” She flexed her fingers, frowned, tapped away at the keys. “Nobody,” she announced. “You can get there on USAir via Pittsburgh or you can fly Midwest Express through Milwaukee. Or United if you don’t mind changing at O’Hare. Or any airline, just about, but those are the logical ones. I don’t suppose you know which airline he used?”
“No.”
“And his name?”
“Arnold Wishniak.”
“Well, if we find him,” she said, “we’ll know it’s him, won’t we? Because how many Arnold Wishniaks could be going from Philadelphia to Omaha?”
“I’d say one at the most. I don’t think he would have used his real name.”
“I don’t blame him.”
“But he may have kept the initials.”
“Well, let’s see.” She tapped away at the keys, periodically rolling her eyes while she waited for the machine to respond. “Every computer’s faster than the last one,” she said, “and they’re never fast enough. You get so you want it instantaneous. More than that, you want it to give you data before you can even think to ask for it.”
“Same with people.”
“Huh? Oh, right.” She giggled. “At least computers keep improving. Do you see what I’m doing? I’m starting with USAir, and I’m asking if there’s a Wishniak on Flight 1103 on the fifth, and there’s not, and now I’ll ask about Flight 179 the same day... No. Okay, the other date’s the sixth, right? So we’ll try 1103... Nothing, and now we’ll try 179. Is that the right number, 179? It is, so we’ll try it. Nope.”
“I don’t think he would have used his real name.”
“I know, but I wanted to rule it out because with the name I could access the records. With just the initials I can’t.”
“Oh.”
“Let me try Midwest Express,” she said. She did, and United as well, and wound up shaking her head.
“There’s another name you could try,” I said. “He had a brother who anglicized the family name, and Arnold’s borrowed the name in the past.”
I told her the name and she repeated it and frowned. “Spell it?” I spelled it and she hit keys. “It’s a familiar name to me,” she mused. “Where did I hear it recently?”
“No idea,” I said. “Of course there’s the ballplayer, Dave Winfield.”
She shook her head. “Since the strike,” she said, “I don’t pay any attention. Flight 1103, on the fifth. No luck there. Flight 179, also on the fifth...”
Nothing on any of the flights in question.
“There’s still a good chance he used the initials,” I said. “But you can’t access it that way. Suppose you just pull up the passenger manifests for each of those flights. Can you do that?”
“I can’t.”
“Who can?”
“Some computer genius, probably. Or somebody at the airline who’s got the access codes.” She frowned. “This is important, huh?”
“Kind of.”
She picked up a phone, flipped through a Rolodex, dialed a number. She said, “Hi, this is Phyllis at JMC. Who’s this? Judy? Judy, I’ve got this very good customer of mine who happens to be a detective. He’s on this case that involves a noncustodial parent... Right, you hear about stuff like this all the time. I know, it’s amazing. They don’t pay child support and then they come and kidnap the kids.”
She explained what I needed to know. “He wasn’t on any of those flights under his own name,” she said, “but the detective thinks he may have kept the initials. No, I understand it’s confidential, Judy. You would have to have a court order. Right.” She made a face, then forced a smile. “Look, could you do this much? Without telling me the name, could you see if there’s a male passenger on one of those flights with the initials AW? Yes, Philadelphia to Omaha.”
She covered the mouthpiece. “She’s not supposed to do this,” she said, “but she’ll bend a little. My guess, she’s divorced and not on the best of terms with her ex.” She uncovered the mouthpiece. “Hi, Judy. Rats. None at all, huh?”
“He probably paid cash,” I said.
She was quick. “Judy,” she said, “he probably made up a name, so he probably paid cash. If you could... uh-huh. Uh-huh. Right, I understand.”
She covered the mouthpiece again. “She can’t do it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t. It’s against the rules, she’d get in trouble, blah blah blah.”
TJ said, “Could you do it? If you had the access codes?”
“But I don’t.”
“But she does.”
She considered, shrugged, and uncovered the mouthpiece. “Judy,” she said, “last thing I want is for you to get in trouble. For curiosity, though, tell me something. Is that information there to be pulled up? Like whether a ticket was purchased cash or charge? I mean, suppose a customer comes in and pays me cash, and... Uh-huh. I see. So anybody could access it. I mean, I could get it myself if I had the access codes, is that right?” She grabbed up a pen, jotted down a phrase. “Judy,” she said, “you’re a doll. Thanks.” She broke the connection, grinned fiercely, and held up a clenched fist in triumph. “Yes!”
We still had a ways to go. What she managed to produce, after a lot of head-scratching and keytapping, was a printout of passenger manifests for flights on the three airlines in question from Philadelphia to Omaha and as many return flights two days later. An asterisk next to a name indicated a non-credit card sale.
“Cash or check,” she explained. “There’s no distinction in the data bank. Also, these are just the cash and check sales made by the airline. Sales through travel agents are just listed that way, with no indication as to how payment was made. That’s not what she told me, but if there’s a way to separate it out, I can’t figure it out.”
“That’s all right.”
“It is? Because do you see the names coded with a C? These are all customers who bought their ticket through another airline, probably because their trip originated with another flight segment on the issuing carrier. For all I know they paid for their ticket with Green Stamps.”