Robert’s voice sounded a bit steadier at this news. “So it’s quite possible that they weren’t on that flight? When will we know for certain?”
That was a question Ben had been asked – and had asked himself – multiple times so far today. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Apparently, when the plane exploded on takeoff, it took out power and telephone lines, and no one’s had any luck getting much information. We have people here at the magazine in constant contact with both the FAA and the State Department trying to get updates, but until the passenger lists are released, or we hear from one of the crew, we won’t know anything definite.”
“Yes. I understand. I’ve been watching the coverage on television, what little there is, and it sounds like the crash not only disrupted the communications systems but that the debris is blocking the main highway into the city.”
“There hasn’t been a whole lot of news,” agreed Ben. “And I’m sure the priority is to tend to the victims of the crash. Plus, all incoming and outgoing flights have been grounded, which is to be expected. We haven’t even been able to reach them on the satellite phone, but I’m told that’s not unusual in these sorts of disasters, that communications can be blocked in order to give priority to emergency services. But we’ll keep trying to reach them, as well as utilize all of our contacts to get more news.”
Robert blew out a frustrated breath. “I suppose under the circumstances that’s all you can do. Except to hope. And pray.”
Ben shut his eyes again, rubbing his temple. “Believe me, Robert, I’ve been doing plenty of both since I first heard the news early this morning. We have to remain positive, have to assume that they didn’t make it onto that flight. The odds aren’t great that they did.”
“With most anyone else I’d agree,” retorted Robert. “But with Lauren – well, you’ve seen her in action. She’d think nothing of badgering a gate agent or pitching a fit until they called the plane back to the gate.”
“Even Lauren can’t control everything,” Ben assured him gently. “And given how tight security is at airports nowadays, I doubt she would have been able to pull something like that off.”
“I suppose you’re right.” There was a pause for several seconds before Robert murmured in hushed tones, “God, if something happens to my girl I don’t know what we’ll do, Ben. My wife is holding on by a thread right now.”
“I know exactly how she feels,” whispered Ben. “Lauren is – well, she’s a very special woman, isn’t she? And, well - ”
“You’re in love with my daughter,” finished Robert. “Yes, I’ve been aware of that for quite some time. And I trust that if she makes it out of this that you plan on telling her exactly how you feel. Now, please. Call us the moment you have any news. No matter the time or no matter what the news.”
Robert hung up before Ben could even start to think up a reply, and he was left staring dumbly at the receiver.
But current circumstances didn’t allow for him to spend time pondering why Robert McKinnon had sounded so sure of himself just now, why he had very matter-of-factly stated that Ben was in love with Lauren. Had Lauren in fact confided in her father, or was Robert simply making an educated guess based on what he had observed?
As the morning became afternoon and then began to approach early evening, the mood in the office began to darken along with the sky. At some point during the day, Ben’s office had become ground control, and there were always at least half a dozen people clustered around, searching for news online, trying to call the crew’s cell phones or the satellite number every few minutes. People had been bringing food in all day, and he was vaguely nauseous as he looked it all over – donuts and bagels, the remnants of a foot-long sandwich, Chinese takeout containers, half a pizza, a tray of assorted cookies and cupcakes. He hadn’t been able to eat a thing all day, just coffee and water, had no appetite whatsoever.
“Ben, you should really eat something,” chided Nadine. She was red-eyed from crying, her voice barely above a croak. She felt responsible for what had happened, deeply regretted not having booked the crew on the direct flight from Port Blair to Delhi, but Ben hadn’t been able to summon up the energy to console her much, or to continually assure her that none of this was her fault.
Needless to say, no one had been in the mood to actually work today. The staff was like a big family, after all, most of them having worked together for years. None of them wanted to go home, and while Ben appreciated their support, what he really wanted was an hour or two of privacy so that he could try and make some sense of this mess. A nap wouldn’t hurt, either, except that he was so pumped full of caffeine and anxiety at this point that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to sleep again.
His cell phone buzzed, and he snatched it up from his desk, only to heave a little sigh when he saw Elle’s name in the caller ID. Again.
“Any news?” she asked as he picked up the call.
“Not yet, no.”
This was at least the fifth call from Elle since he had told her about the plane crash, and while he appreciated her concern, the frequent calls were a distraction he could do without at the moment. Elle had offered to bring food over, to keep him company, and he knew her feelings had been hurt each time he had gently refused. But right now he simply couldn’t worry about Elle – not when the only woman he’d ever loved might very well be dead.
Ben shook his head, trying valiantly not to let himself sink into despair. He had to stay positive, had to hold on to whatever fragile threads of hope might still exist. The very thought that someone as young and bright and beautiful as Lauren could be dead was so unbelievable that it sounded like a bad dream. Maybe that’s all this was, he mused. Except that it had been the longest nightmare he’d ever had, one that had gone on for far too long. And if it was just a bad dream, then he was desperate to wake up from it any second now – to wake up and discover that Lauren and the others were just fine, that all the worry and panic and despair had been for nothing.
And when she arrived back in New York, he wasn’t going to waste even one more hour without telling her how he felt – explaining why he had left her, telling her how much he had always regretted his actions, and how he had never once stopped loving her. He was going to do all of that and more – provided he got the chance.
It was early evening by now, and somehow all of the food had been consumed. Nadine and a few of the others went out to grab burgers and shakes, and Ben humored them by asking for a mushroom Swiss burger and a vanilla shake, even though he doubted he could eat a single bite.
He was alone for the first time since very early this morning, when he’d picked up the call from Nadine that had caused his blood to run cold. As a way to distract himself, Ben checked his email, the first actual bit of work he’d attempted all day. He clicked automatically through two dozen or more messages, deleting some, replying to a few others, forwarding the rest to Kym.
And then he spied the message that had been marked as Personal and Confidential, specially flagged so that only he would be able to open it. But it was the sender’s name that really caught his attention, and he did a quick time and date conversion to determine when it had been sent. If his calculations were correct, then Lauren had sent this email roughly three hours before her flight had left Port Blair.
His fingers were trembling as he opened the email and began to read what could very well be the final communication that Lauren had sent to anyone.