A Frightened Peace

By Anne Callanan and Kathleen E. Lehew

Part 12/12

Epilogue

"You know I'm right."

"I know nothing of the kind." He stopped just short of smirking condescendingly at her. She wasn't new to the job, just new to the NTSB and his team. She was young but good; he wouldn't have assigned her to this investigation if she weren't.

Still, her conclusions, despite the conviction in her voice, were far too preliminary. He had to point out the obvious. "You're guessing."

"No, I'm not." Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of an early morning sun, she watched as a group of investigators, hands and feet carefully encased in protective latex, painstakingly removed the bits and pieces of Marine One from the clinging mud. "It shouldn't have failed…"

"Well, obviously it did."

She didn't fail to catch the note of cool disapproval in his voice. The rebuke was obvious. Junior investigators did not voice opinions to seniors unless asked. Snorting derisively, she ignored the warning and replied with equal parts sarcasm, "Gonna scream 'pilot error' now?"

"That would go over big with the press, wouldn't it?"

"Try the President. The man's not going to buy that excuse without proof."

"And you have proof it's not?" He had to ask it. She was good at her job, he wouldn't have asked for her on site if she weren't. As certain as he was that she was wrong, something in her voice gave him pause. "Spill it. What have you got?"

"It shouldn't have failed." Her reply lacked any ring of finality, any force of truth. The conviction was there, but no proof.

"So you say." This was getting them nowhere and he started to turn away.

"So I know!"

"There was a storm! Lightning, high winds…"

"Pilot error?" she prodded in a nasty tone.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, he glared at her. Good or not, she was pushing it. "Maybe. The lab will…"

"The lab will take weeks! Maybe months! You know it, I know it. In the meanwhile, that…" she pointed to what little remained of Marine One at the bottom of the ridge, "…is all that remains of one of the most secure aircraft in the world! The thing was degaussed and grounded three ways to Sunday! Backup systems, redundancies you wouldn't believe and pilots who don't…"

Her enthusiasm was laudable, but he knew if he didn't stop this now he wouldn't be able to later. Trying to interrupt, he said, "Listen…"

She wasn't about to let him stop her and finished with a triumphant note, "…pilots who don't make mistakes! Redundancy, damn it!"

"Your point?" he sighed with profound exasperation. Youth had its advantages, but this?

"The one part…"

"Here it comes." He rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air in disgust.

"The one part that can't be duplicated, can't be backed up…" Pausing, she took a deep breath and turned the full force of her gaze and certainty on him. She knew what had happened, why didn't he? Willing him to listen, she finished, "…fails. There's only one main rotor housing, one bolt. What are the odds?"

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. "You have no proof."

"They heard an explosion."

"They heard a bang." He corrected her testily.

This time it was her turn to throw up her arms in disgust. "What is it with you?"

Truthfully, at this point he had no idea. "I'll wait for the lab reports," he told her, wondering at the bitter cynicism he could hear echoing in his voice. Where had that come from? Was she getting to him?

She came to a decision. "I'm not. It's going in my report."

"It's your head."

"Better mine than the President's."

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. "You're gonna say it, aren't you?"

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Standing up to him wasn't easy, but she knew her instincts were right. Without a hint of boastfulness, she said, "The lab reports will confirm it. In the meanwhile the President, the NSA, the CIA, the FBI and God knows whatever alphabet I've forgotten to mention has to be told now."

"Say it." There was a thread of warning in his voice, although deep down he was beginning to wonder. He turned away before she could answer, resigned to the fact that maybe she was right and that maybe he was getting too old for this.

And if she was right, he didn't want to contemplate what it meant, the awful possibilities. He still needed to hear the words though. "Get it over with," he called back over his shoulder.

Her words didn't disappoint him.

"It was sabotage."

The End

Authors' Note: The quotation used for both our title and the President's fatigued observation is the opening lines from 'Henry IV, Part I' by -you guessed it G- William Shakespeare. A quick run down here for the curious. The King is delivering a speech about how England, so long torn by civil war, may now have the chance to unite and fight a common enemy. The King wants to embark on the Crusades -possibly; we're not too sure about that. Have to reread it to be sure G- but news of the Welsh uprising and a few other problems puts the brakes on THAT idea.

Gee, guess Hank was having a bad day, too.