Huge thanks to LK and LA for the reviews...they do keep me going. Easter break has given me the chance to smarten up a few chapters, so let's keep rolling along.


Kelly had been somewhat surprised to receive a call from Carl Douglas. His voice on the phone had been strained. There was something he wasn't telling her, and no amount of persuasion would make him open up to her. She hadn't wanted to leave Kris but her friend had all but pushed her out of the apartment. Sabrina would call when she'd spoken to Henry, and Kris had made it clear that she could deal with whatever it was that Sabrina had to tell them. The three of them needed to have a long chat about the case and Kris had promised not to make mention of the issue of Henry's illness until they were all together.

The thought that Sabrina had kept that from them still stung, but she tried to push her own emotions to one side. She had to concentrate on the matter at hand; her problems with Sabrina would just have to wait.

She raised a hand to knock on Carl's door but it was opened before she had a chance to complete the action. Carl's body language told her straight away that something was up.

"So what was so important that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

Carl held open the door and beckoned her in. She wasn't sure why she paused; a voice in her head told her to get out of the building, but she quashed the thought. Forcing a smile onto her face she crossed the threshold.

"I take it that something's happened?"

"You could say that." Carl gestured for her to take a seat and then reached into his briefcase, pulling out an envelope. He opened it up and slid the ¼-inch reel out onto the table.

"That's it?" Kelly questioned, trying to keep her voice calm.

"That's it," Carl affirmed.

Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't look like much."

Carl picked up the tape and turned it over in his hands. "This could be it though, everything I need to prove that Sullivan was working for the CIA. This is everything that was said during the last 30 minutes of flight K47."

Kelly shivered involuntarily. "I'm not sure that I want to hear it," she confessed.

"Don't you think that it's kind of eerie, hearing the voices and knowing that the people speaking are about to die?"

Carl shrugged. "They've been dead a long time, and if what they say can help to prove that the crash was no accident then I think they've got a right to be heard."

He rose from his seat and crossed the room in a few strides. He laced the tape around the heads of the machine and then and then stood staring at the play button.

"Have you listened to it yet?"

Carl shook his head and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I was waiting for you. Wanted to share the moment."

Without waiting for a response, Carl pressed down on the play button and the leader of the tape was wound through the heads of the machine.

Kelly felt a shiver run the length of her spine as she listened to the chatter that was taking place on the flight deck. There was a good natured tone to the conversation and Kelly found it uncomfortable to think about the fact that within a few moments the whole situation would change and the men would be desperately fighting to prevent the plane they were flying from going down.

A clear chime broke across the chatter. Carl instinctively leant in closer, listening to the way that the conversation automatically changed.

"It's the oil pressure," the flight engineer reported calmly. There was a long pause as the three men sought to silence the alarm. "Temperature reading as low, but the pressure is high."

There was another period of silence, punctuated by clicks as the pilot checked the instrumentation. "No signs of any problems," he finally announced. "Keep an eye on it, but I'm certain that it's just another false reading. This damn crate's being throwing them up since we took off."

"You certain?"

Carl glanced in Kelly's direction. "That's the co-pilot," he filled in the last of the details for her.

"Keep an eye on it," the pilot relented. "But I can tell you now that it's just something these old crates throw up."

There was no conversation for the next minute as all three of the flight crew kept their attention fully focussed on the planes instrumentation.

The silence was finally broken by a second chiming alarm. There was low swearing from the pilot.

"What is it now?"

There was a long pause before the co-pilot answered. "Fuel imbalance. Engine two is showing as lighter."

"What's he talking about?" Kelly whispered, not wanting to distract Carl from the tape.

"It's the fuel gauge," he told her.

Kelly turned her attention back to the tape.

Carl swore beneath his breath. "This pilot doesn't know what he's doing."

"What do you mean?"

Carl gestured towards the tape machine. "He's flying by instruments alone. He's not listening to the advice of his flight engineer and co-pilot."

"So?"

"So an experienced pilot would know more about his plane and the way that it performs. He wouldn't rely solely on his instruments. Sure it's a skill to be able to fly by instruments alone, but you need to have a feel for your plane; to know what it can do." Carl shook his head. "Problems with the oil pressure, imbalance in the tanks..." he tailed off and then swore beneath his breath. "Hindsight's a bitch. I know what's going to happen."

Kelly wanted to ask him for more information, but Carl's attention was once again firmly on the tape.

"You need to put her down," the co-pilot finally announced. "I'm still seeing evidence of a fuel imbalance. Nearest serviceable strip is Canford."

"No can do. If you can't fix the problem then I have to take her back."

"Canford's nearer," the co-pilot argued.

"But with the recent rainfall, I can't be certain that the strip is serviceable. With this storm on our backs we have to put down. The base is our only viable option."

"Canford had a routine check only last week."

"And I'm telling you that with our current manifest, the only viable option is to return to base."

The co-pilot swore beneath his breath. "This is supposed to be a military flight, not some passenger service for some damned politician."

"That damned politician may just be the man who sorts out a better pension for you and me," the pilot reminded him curtly.

"A better pension is no good to me if I'm dead," the co-pilot snapped back.

"The pressure's gone. The pressure's gone," the flight engineer tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he broke across the burgeoning argument.

"That's not possible," the pilot argued. "My instruments show that there's plenty of fuel in number one tank."

"You can't rely solely on the instruments," the co-pilot argued. "You have to trust your instincts."

"The tank pressure is fine," the pilot insisted. "Transferring fuel has caused an imbalance; that's all."

"You have to put her down," the co-pilot repeated his earlier plea. "I don't care what Ward has offered you; it's not enough. You have to put her down and get this checked out properly."

"If we put her down anywhere it's back at base."

"There's nothing wrong with Canford. You can be over the strip in less time than it will take the tower to give us a clear landing strip at the base."

The warning alarm broke through the tense atmosphere in the cockpit.

"We are turning back to base," the pilot announced. "Get onto the tower at Menzies and warn them that we may have to declare an emergency landing. Get the strip cleared and the emergency services on standby."

There was immediate disagreement from the co-pilot, but Wood the pilot was in no mood to listen.

"Damn." Carl's voice cut across the tape once again. "Sounds as though there was a fuel leak in the line to the right engine. The transfer he carried out caused fuel to be wasted through the leak on the other side."

Kelly was struggling to follow what Carl was saying but she could tell by his expression that he had just made some important discovery.

"Damn." Carl rose to his feet and walked over to the counter. He poured himself a large scotch and downed it in one. He refilled the glass and then turned to Kelly as though suddenly remembering that she was in the room. "Can I get you one?"

"Sure." She crossed the room and turned off the tape, the click of the machine echoed around the room. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about? You obviously got something out of that that I missed."

Carl poured the drinks and then made his way back to the sofa. He handed a tumbler to Kelly and then took a seat.

"It tells me that Henry Sullivan has a lot to answer for."

"I don't understand."

"Henry Sullivan was ground crew for that plane. It was his job to make sure that the plane was serviceable before it took to the skies."

Kelly was struggling to put the pieces together. "And you're saying that he missed something?"

Carl strode across the room and pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the folders piled on his desk. He dropped them on the table in front of Kelly.

"This is a copy of the accident report, compiled by the Army's own investigation team. "It clearly states that there was nothing wrong with the fuel tank or the gauges."

"But…."

"...Yeah ... it was a lie. For all I know the whole report is a pack of lies. The tape clearly shows that there was something wrong with the fuel supply. I'd put money on there being a leak in the number two engine."

Kelly shook her head. "Why would they cover up something like that?"

"The national media has just made a hero out of the very man who was responsible for the crash ... Why do you think they covered it up?"

"Can you be sure that the tape is saying what you think it is?" Kelly was struggling to explain what was going on.

Carl's laugh was incredulous. "You heard it for yourself. The pilot ignores the flight engineer and the co-pilot. He's obviously under orders to get Ward back to the base if anything goes wrong." He paced impatiently around the room. "This is the break I've been waiting for. This is it...Man ... this book is going to blow the whole thing wide open."

Kelly watched as Carl became more and more animated. She'd realised that he was passionate about the book that he was writing, only now did she truly realise just how devoted to his subject he was, and the intensity scared her a little.

"How can you be sure that the tape isn't a fake?"

Carl turned on her. "A fake! You think that I wouldn't know if it wasn't real?"

Kelly held up her hands. "Hey, it's the first time I've heard their voices. Have you heard them before? Isn't it possible that someone just got a little creative in the editing suite and spliced a little something together that they thought you wanted to hear?"

Carl shook his head decisively. "Oh no, the people I got this tape from... they're on the level, no mistake about that."

He turned his back on her and hurried over to his tan briefcase He rummaged through it, finally coming away with a folded map that he proceeded to spread across the table's surface.

Kelly kept her expression neutral, trying to mask the fear that was beginning to settle around her shoulders. "Just what did this cost you?"

"What do you care?" he asked casually as he pressed the map flat and began tracing a finger across it, trying to locate Canford's air strip.

"I don't want you getting yourself into trouble," she told him sincerely.

Carl shook his head. "Oh, I'm not the one in trouble. Don't worry yourself about that." There was a pause and then he stabbed at the map with one finger. "Ah hah. There it is." He looked around for something to mark the map with.

"Implying that someone else is?"

"What?"

"In trouble."

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "Kelly what's going on? I've just discovered what is practically the single most important piece of information in years, and you're babbling on about ...about something trivial."

"If someone gets hurt, then you could find yourself in a whole lot of trouble," she warned him. "That's not trivial."

Carl angled his head, suspicion plain on his face. "Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?"

"I just don't like the idea of anyone getting hurt."

"Even if they have it coming?"

"No-one has it coming," she told him firmly.

"Oh come on," Carl scoffed. "You're not going to tell me that you have sympathy for that old murderer or those who protect him, are you Kelly? The man was responsible for the deaths of his colleagues."

"We don't know that for sure."

"Were you listening to the same tape that I was?" he demanded to know, his voice rising an octave. "Sullivan did a job on that aircraft and a state senator was killed as a direct result. In my books that's murder, and anyone who tries to keep that quiet is complicit...whether it was back then or now."

"You can't convict a man on the strength of that tape alone," she tried to convince him. "Although I agree the evidence appears pretty damning."

Carl shook his head, failing to understand Kelly's concern. "I don't know why you're so concerned about that old bastard. If it's any consolation to you, he's not in any danger, although that snotty nosed broad who's been hanging around pretending to be his niece has finally got what's coming to her."

"What!" Kelly's senses were immediately on the alert. "What's happened to her?"

"Why should you care? She's some government lackey who's done nothing but get in my way since she appeared on the scene. I'd say she's got her just desserts."

Kelly was caught in two minds; she had to find out just what Carl was talking about, but revealing her concern for Bri could jeopardise the work that she was doing.

"I don't want anyone getting hurt because of us," she told Carl in what she hoped was a calm tone. "There has to be some other way of doing this; some way that doesn't end up with people being hurt."

"You're never going to get anywhere in this business if you don't toughen up," he warned her. "The people I'm dealing with want to find a way to hurt Sullivan; I sold them the story that that broad was touting about being Sullivan's niece. I got the tape in return for her."

"What!"

Carl mistook Kelly's fear for disbelief. "Damn fools should have checked the merchandise before conducting the deal. Can't imagine that they're going to be too happy when they find out who she really is. It serves her right for lying to me"

"They'll kill her," Kelly muttered softly.

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Either way, she'll be out of our hair now."

"Contact them. Tell them you made a mistake," Kelly told him, a sense of urgency in her voice.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"When they find out who she is, then surely they'll come after you," Kelly thought quickly on her feet. "And if they don't then the government certainly will."

Carl shook his head. "I don't think so. And as for the government. They're hardly likely to hold their hands up and admit that they had a CIA agent assigned to keep Sullivan safe." He closed the distance between himself and Kelly and placed an arm around her shoulder. "This one little tape is going to make me a fortune. What's a little collateral damage compared with that?" He tapped the white box. "This is my Watergate. This is the story that's going to make me famous."

Kelly did her best to smile and look pleased. Inside she was feeling sick to the stomach.

"Nothing to say?"

Kelly slipped out from under his arm and took a pace away. "I can't let you do this."

She waited for Carl to say something, when he didn't reply, she turned back to face him; surprised to see a gun in his hand.

"I'm really sorry about this. I really wanted it to be a lie...I really did."

Kelly tried to pull her gaze away from the barrel of the gun that was pointed at her. "What the hell?"

Carl shook his head. "When he told me on the phone that you were working with her, I didn't want to believe him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kelly tried to protest but Carl waved for her to be silent.

"Don't...don't make it worse." He gestured towards the sofa. "Sit down. They'll be here for you soon."

"You don't have to do this," Kelly told him, not making any effort to move.

"Shut up."

"This isn't you. This isn't the man I've been seeing. Whatever they promised you, it's not worth taking a life for." She nodded in the direction of the tape. "Is that really worth killing for?"

"I thought you understood."

"I thought you were looking for the truth. I didn't believe that you'd do something like this." She paused. "What's happened to my friend?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Carl please. You can still get out of this. Just tell me where she is."

He shook his head. "It's too late for that."

"No. It's never too late." She took a pace towards the door. "I need to find her. I'm going now and you won't stop me."

She held her breath and took a pace toward the door, hoping that she'd gauged the situation correctly.

Carl opened his mouth to say something but found that he couldn't. His mind flashed back to the loading bay and the look on the woman's face. He'd sold her out, and he'd not stopped for a second to think about what would happen to her once he'd handed her over. He swallowed and tried to push the thought aside, but the feeling of guilt just wouldn't leave him.

He stood mutely and did nothing as Kelly opened the door and left the apartment.


Kelly took the steps two at a time, racing to get back back to her car. She contacted the mobile operator, and waited impatiently for the call to connect.

"Bos? Kelly. We've got trouble." She didn't wait for Bosley to respond, she ploughed straight on with her news. "If Carl Douglas is telling me the truth then Sabrina's in a lot of trouble. Do you know where she is?" Kelly held her breath, hoping that Bos was going to tell her that Bri was there in the room.

"She's not called in."

Kelly swore under her breath and quickly explained to Bos the deal that Carl had struck.

"I'll get hold of the mobile operator and see if she's in her car."

Kelly hung on the line for what felt like an age. The tone of Bos' voice was enough to tell her that the news was bad.

"There's no reply," Bosley told her. "I'll talk to Henry; check that he hasn't received any calls this morning."

"Hurry Bos, I've got a bad feeling about this."