Jake listened, clicking his pen. “With all due respect, that doesn’t sound too strange—”
“It’s about to. A few days later, one of the mechanics is in a car wreck. Ends up in a coma. The manager called some of Ian McDonald’s references. Glowing praises all around, so he hires him. The guy works hard and does a great job all week. Before the aircraft departed yesterday, McDonald worked on a couple of squawk sheet items, then left, saying he was headed home.”
“What kind of squawk sheet items?”
“Just minor things, a couple of panel light bulbs, a rattle or two. Nothing to ground an aircraft over.”
“We need to talk to him.”
“Sure, but here’s where it gets weird. He didn’t show up for work today. When the manager tried to call, the phone number had been disconnected. The address he gave doesn’t exist either. When he called the reference numbers back, they were disconnected too.”
“Yep, definitely weird. What about the other mechanic?”
“It’s his day off. The manager’s tried to get him all day. So far, no answer. Figures he’s off with his girlfriend somewhere.”
“Do we have a physical description of the new guy he hired? What’s his name, Ian McDonald?”
“Yes, that’s his name. The manager says he was a big guy. Real tall, he guessed six-five or six-six, maybe two-fifty, muscular, brown eyes and reddish-brown hair with a white streak running down the middle of his head and a heavy accent—”
“What?”
“He had a white streak running through his hair and a heavy accent. Thinks maybe Irish or something like that—”
“No, no, I heard you fine. I saw a guy that fits that description. Here, last night. He didn’t have brown eyes. He had one brown and one blue, but everything else fits him to a tee.”
“That’s a strange coincidence.”
“Alright, Donna, fax all that stuff over here, you have the number, right?”
“Yes, I have it.”
“Fax all maintenance records and personnel data including that man’s resume.”
Jake hung up his cell phone and tried desperately to absorb the information Donna Greene just gave him. For the first time feeling the sweat that had formed on the back of his neck. It all led him back to the man who was in his room the night before. The man was right. Maybe this “crash” wasn’t an accident at all. Could it be that sabotage was what caused the crash?
The man in the pub, is that the same man from Dallas? What was the involvement of the man that came to the room? Could he be trusted? Who could be trusted? The man said trust no one. What was it he said? “The enemy is closer than you think.” What the hell did that mean?
As the questions chased each other through his mind, he wondered if his chance to finally make a name for himself might have arrived. No more living in the shadow of his father.
Not an accident, in spite of the evidence so far. Sabotage. His mind told him this could be the case.
His gut feeling told him this was the case.
But how could he prove it?
CHAPTER 21
Jake arrived at the crash scene at the same time the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder were being pulled from the debris. He noticed Dave Morris carrying the flight data recorder toward one of two ice chests located by the perimeter tape.
Dave had already located the “black boxes” submerged in salt water and muck. The boxes weren’t located the night before due to rising tides, darkness and the amount of mud covering the units. The impact of the crash had forced the “black boxes” several feet into the muck. The rising tide hampered recovery efforts until the marsh drained itself during low tide.
The name “black boxes” was something of a misnomer since both boxes were actually painted Day-Glo orange. The boxes contained the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder. Each unit recorded different data and comprised completely different and independent systems. The recorders primarily used solid-state technology, much more reliable than the older magnetic tape models and were able to store more data in less space.
The recorders used stacked arrays of memory chips with no moving parts. No moving parts meant fewer maintenance problems and less chance for breakage during a crash. These stacked memory chips were housed in a “crash-survivable memory unit.”
The cockpit voice recorder was located in the rear of the aircraft. Several microphones were built into the cockpit to track and record all conversations of the flight crew. All microphones in the cockpit were connected to the recorder. These microphones recorded all ambient noise in the cockpit as well as the pilot’s headset, the copilot’s headset and the headsets of any other crew members for a duration of two hours.
Both boxes had sustained heavy damages during the crash and would be packed and sent to Washington, D.C., for examination and data extraction. Dave brought along two large special purpose chests for storing the recorders once they were located. Because the recorders were submerged in salt water, they would be rinsed off, stored and shipped in fresh water.
While Dave and Ben were busy preparing the recorders for shipping, Jake started telling McGill about the briefing he had received from Donna Greene. When Jake reached the part of the briefing about the missing mechanic, a furrow in McGill’s brow deepened.
McGill said, “Call Donna back and tell her to get local authorities involved in locating the whereabouts of both mechanics.”
Jake nodded. He then revealed his theory to McGill.
Dave and Ben stopped working on securing the recorders at the sound of McGill yelling obscenities while waving his hands in the air.
CHAPTER 22
Due to heavy gray rain clouds, darkness settled early upon Northern Ireland. In the Stormont Parliament Building in Belfast, the Commander stared out the window at the rows of street lights reflecting off the wet pavement that lined Prince of Wales Avenue. The bronze statue of Sir Edward Carson, the man touted as the “uncrowned King of Ulster” for his successful resistance against the British Government’s attempts to introduce Home Rule for all of Ireland, was barely visible through the mist gently falling across the Stormont grounds.
A voice called out from behind him, “Is O’Rourke dead, do we know for sure?
With as much confidence as he could muster, he replied, “It would appear that is the case. There were no survivors. All the dead have been identified … including Laurence O’Rourke.”
“Do the authorities think this was an accident or sabotage?”
“The Americans are investigating it as an accident. There has been no mention of sabotage from my source. The Washington investigators are not available to conduct the investigations because of the weather in the D.C. area, so the Atlanta office is in charge. Oddly enough, the lead investigator is an Irishman from Londonderry.”
“Is he your source?”
“No, sir, I don’t know anything about the man.”
The room went silent while he peered out across the lawn in front of the Stormont Parliament building. The death of O’Rourke was unexpected but could prove beneficial. The Commander had worked arduously to train O’Rourke with tremendous successes and very few failures. O’Rourke’s ultimate betrayal had left him in a compromising position.
“Send someone to Savannah to positively identify O’Rourke,” the man said.
“I have already dispatched a man. Dental records for all the occupants have been sent so the Americans can make positive matches.”
The man turned to the Commander, his aging eyes glaring. “I presume we never acquired the location from O’Rourke?”
“No, sir, but we still have another chance — if we can find Michael Sullivan.”