Thanks!
Chapter Ten:
Reid:
"Megan Callahan died of cancer three months ago," Thompson read from his computer.
"Well, that's anticlimactic," Cole said.
I looked at the pictures. They were so haunting. It was about a plane of passengers who fly into Hell dimension, and must maintain their sanity to survive.
"What about the illustrator?" Esper asked.
"She died a year ago of a sudden stroke," Thompson said. "The editors canceled the follow-up series out of genuine fear the project was 'cursed,' as an inker fell into a coma for three days during production, a layout designer's cat nearly drowned in a home aquarium, and a tree fell into the copy editor's home as he submitted the final issue."
I closed the book. "I think we should pursue this lead later."
"I agree," Esper said. "The main players are dead."
"I'm holding on to the book though," I said.
I walked to the cubicle and found a gift wrapped in hunter green paper.
"What'd you get?" Cole asked.
Esper and Thompson were following closely behind.
"It could be a threat," Esper said.
"I've seen the delivery guy around before," Thompson said.
"GUYS WHEELS UP NOW!"
I looked to see, Morris shouting at us. I could tell from the looks on the rest of the team's face that this was a singular occurrence.
"Grab, go-bags only. Reid, clothes are being sent to the plane."
Morris all but ran to the elevators. The rest of the team hurried to keep up.
"The president's daughter has been kidnapped," he said the second the elevator door closed.
"Do I have to ask the obvious?" Esper said.
"The president requested you specifically Reid," he said.
If the situation wasn't so serious, I might have laughed.
"Sage Brooke is also a huge fan of yours. She has a blog dedicated to your career. She wants to be an FBI agent when she graduates from Stanford next year."
"I also hate her father," I said. "He was very vocal in the senate about refusing to give automatic asylum to the people abused in the pedophile ring I identified."
"Watch what you say, Reid," Morris said.
The elevator opened, and Morris slowed his pace. One of the rules of working in law enforcement, was to project calm in front of the public.
Morris led them to a garage where a six-seat van was parked. They all piled in.
"Sage was last seen in the Stanford library parking lot. A van pulled up and two men in ski masks dragged her in. The campus was put on lockdown twenty minutes ago. Several security cams in the area were knocked out."
"That's a red flag," I said. "Stanford is one of the most bike-friendly campuses in the country. What was she doing in the parking lot?"
"Could that be where the bike racks are?" Thompson said.
"They aren't," I said. "I toured the campus, to appease my one teacher bent on having me fill her Stanford quotient that year."
"She was ditching her secret service detail," Cole said.
"The president is giving us access to a turbo jet," Morris said. "We should be there in two hours."
"Wow, Reid," Thompson said. "Is this going to be a regular thing with you?"
"Has there been a ransom demand?" Esper asked.
"Not yet. For those who haven't flown turbo, there are oxygen masks. Reid, have you flown turbo?"
"They upgraded my flight after the incident in Thailand."
"I flew turbo for my honeymoon," Thompson said.
"Great," Cole said. "I'm the only turbo virgin."
"It's not horrendously scarry," Esper said. "Just remember to breathe."
Thompson looked like he swallowed the joke he wanted to make.
"How mad is the secret service, that we're stepping on their toes?" Esper asked.
"It is hard to say."
They arrived at the airport. A turbo jet looks like a standard jet. Everything was optimized on the interior of the plane.
I thought about the jet my dad rode around in. I guess the one he spent most of his time in was blown up not long after he met my mom, as a means of apprehending a serial killer, while he was in the hospital with an intercranial hemorrhage. My dad did seem to spend a good chunk of his career in hospitals.
The interior of the jet was cream-colored. The hall to the bathroom was gray.
Morris addressed the team.
"Right now, with a few exceptions, everyone thinks Stanford is on lockdown because of an active shooter. Agents are going room by room searching and questioning people."
I took a seat at the table with Cole. Esper and Morris sat opposite us, while Thompson sat on the other side.
"Cole, and Reid. I want you to interview the kids in her dorm. Thompson and Esper, hit the library. I'll work with the secret service."
"Where is the President in all this?" Cole asked.
"He's in a virtual conference with world leaders on peace talks relating to the situation in Turkey."
The masks dropped.
"We can talk again once we hit cruising altitude."
I looked out the window. I wondered how my dad felt on his first plane ride. I don't think heights ever bothered him. It was feeling more surreal with every first I committed while following in his footsteps.