The next message was sent to Belfast. The message was short and to the point:
LO sanctioned.
The interest in Laurence O’Rourke from so many different parties in Belfast had aroused his interest from the onset. It was a risky game he was playing — pitting several dangerous parties’ interests against each other, all for the sake of the money — a lot of money. If he was successful in executing his plan, he would collect from all three parties and they would get what they paid for. If he failed, he was virtually out of business and would have a contract placed on his head.
The final message also went out to Belfast:
Phase one complete. Savannah Project progressing as planned. Sullivan in Savannah, location unknown.
He hit the send button as the courtesy van pulled up to the curb. The driver tried to take his bag to place it in the baggage area but he refused. Finding a seat in the front row, he placed his bag in his lap. As the van pulled into the parking garage, he received a reply from his last message.
Sullivan deemed a liability to Savannah Project. Additional sanction. Commensurate supplement as previously agreed.
The elimination of Michael Sullivan didn’t really come as a surprise to the assassin. It was something he was prepared to do but wanted to avoid. The Savannah Project was going to cost him enough personally as it was. The betrayal of his childhood friends was already a struggle. He didn’t need the additional burden of eliminating another, even closer relationship.
CHAPTER 13
McGill’s cell phone rang. Jake could see the caller ID. It read “Headquarters.” McGill answered, “Pat McGill.”
He could only hear McGill’s side of the conversation but it was enough for him to know that more details about the accident were available.
He saw a sheepish grin come across McGill’s face. McGill spoke into the phone, “Really? The Westin, huh? Wow. Okay, we’re just south of Macon now so we should be there in a couple of hours. I’ll have Carol call you with our arrival time.”
McGill hung up the phone and glanced at Jake. “Well, Junior, it looks like Daddy came to the rescue again. He called the mayor of Savannah and found out they always book extra rooms downtown for dignitaries and VIPs.
“JP snagged us six rooms at the Westin Savannah Harbor Resort located on none other than Hutchinson Island. He also arranged for two conference rooms and the Westin is furnishing dedicated phone lines, a fax machine and a copier.”
McGill added, “The Westin is right across the Savannah River from the historic district with water taxis running back and forth all day and most of the night. It’s even better for us because we can stay out of the historic district mob.”
Jake clenched his jaw and muttered under his breath, “That meddling son of a—”
McGill interrupted. “Come on, Jake, give the old man a break. It’s in his blood. You, of all people should know that by now. He’s just trying to be helpful. It’s hard for your father to let go. It’s killing him that his health took him out of the game.”
“I know, I know. He just won’t leave my life well enough alone. It’s a hard shadow to get out from under and just when I think I’m almost there, he does something like this.”
“Why don’t you call Beth and have her come down,” McGill said. “She’ll have a good time. Just tell her she will only get to see you at night.”
“Good idea, I think I will.” Jake smiled as he picked up his cell phone.
While he was talking to Beth, McGill’s phone rang again. Jake didn’t notice the caller ID this time but from the snippets of conversation that he overheard, he could tell McGill was meeting someone in Savannah.
He and McGill ended their conversations simultaneously. Jake said, “That girl was already packed. I guess she must have known. Did headquarters call you again?”
McGill held up his cell phone. “My cousin in Savannah returning my call.”
He picked up the radio and asked, “Are you guys ready for the briefing?”
“Whenever you are, Pat,” was the reply through the speaker.
“This morning at approximately 1510 Zulu or 1110 Eastern daylight time, a Challenger 604 en route from Dallas Love to Savannah crashed while shooting a GPS approach to runway 27,” McGill said, flipping through the initial accident report.
“The controller had switched the aircraft over to the tower frequency and subsequently heard a ‘Mayday.’ He noticed the Challenger fly about a mile off the final approach course when the radar target disappeared. The flight plan indicated six souls on board. The fixed base operator stated there were two male pilots, a female flight attendant, and three male passengers.
“The aircraft was equipped with all the latest and greatest avionics, a full glass cockpit, the Collins ProLine 4 EFIS system, I believe, including a flight data recorder and a cockpit voice recorder, which we’ll concentrate on locating first. The aircraft’s equipment list showed dual ELTs, a 406 MHz, GPS enabled and a TSO-91A transmitting on 121.5 MHz.”
Jake listened intently. So far, it was all basic facts.
“The crash site is solely contained in a brackish water marsh. I want everyone in coveralls, boots, rubber gloves under leather gloves, facemask and goggles. The DC Go Team can’t make this one until later in the week, if at all, due to the snowstorm in the mid-Atlantic and New England states. They have their hands full with a regional jet that crashed departing Reagan National and the two airliners that slid off runways this morning in Dulles and Boston.
“Gulfstream Aerospace Corporation in Savannah will be in on this one as an industry volunteer and they have made an old empty hangar available for us. Gulfstream indicated they won’t need the hangar for at least a couple of months. They have been granted Party status. Others granted status as parties to the investigation are Bombardier, General Electric, Collins, Honeywell, and NATCA for ATC. There are others but those are just a few.”
McGill folded the report and placed it in his lap.
“The FAA will no doubt have someone there waiting for us on site, thinking he’s in charge. I’m sure there will be other parties showing up tomorrow. I think that about wraps it up except for one more thing.”
He looked over at Jake and grinned. “It looks like Junior’s dad got us all rooms at the Westin by pulling a few strings with the mayor.”
Before Jake could even say a word, the jokes started flying from the radio. He just shook his head and shot McGill a dirty look. “Thanks a lot, asshole.”
McGill laughed, then continued talking to the group over the radio, “We’ll head straight to the crash site and start stakedown procedures. Carol went ahead this morning in a company car and will set up the conference room and pressroom at the Westin. Since there were no survivors — this is recovery only, so we’ll be working daylight hours only. There will be an organizational meeting this evening in the hotel at 1830 and a short press conference at 1900.”
Traveling to Savannah about thirty minutes ahead of the team was Carol Martin, McGill’s administrative assistant. Her superior organizational skills kept the office running smooth regardless of the chaos at hand.
McGill had told Jake that he first met Carol when he worked in the D.C. office as part of the D.C. Go Team. As he was promoted through the ranks, he came to rely on Carol’s ability to handle all the small details. When McGill became manager of the Atlanta office, he offered her a job as his assistant. At first reluctant to leave the D.C. area, she refused until her husband died of a heart attack a month later. When McGill called with his condolences, Carol asked if the job offer was still available. Even though he had already hired someone, he gladly told Carol the job was hers for the asking.