Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Phosphor. A chemical element. Symbol P, atomic number 15. Multivalent nonmetal of the nitrogen group. Elemental phosphor exists in two major forms, white phosphor and red phosphor. Guerrero's guy had found white phosphor on the shard.
Not good. Not good at all.
Most phosphor compounds are used in the production of artificial fertilizers. Plants remove phosphor from the soil when they grow. Fertilizers put it back. Phosphor is very essential for life. Among other things it is, as a phosphate, a component of DNA, RNA and ATP.
Human inventive spirit, however, has made white phosphor also essential for death, especially under belligerent circumstances. In Vietnam they called it "Willie Pete" or simply "WP". WP grenades were pretty much constantly used for the snow white clouds they produced – perfect visual cover.
Unfortunately phosphor doesn't only produce smoke. It also burns fiercely and is hard to extinguish. Water is no option, mud sometimes works. White phosphor bomb victims often describe how their clothes were set on fire almost immediately, like all other inflammable objects within the blast radius. Hair is inflammable, too, by the way.
Nowadays WP bombs are rare, but till the end of the 1990's they were still used in short-range missiles.
Short range missiles…
"Penny? Penny, wake up. We need to talk to you." Chance gently touched their sleeping client's shoulder.
"What's the matter?", she mumbled drowsily, then fell back into sleep.
Sigh. Guerrero and his little chemical helper had been thorough.
"Wouldn't have thought we'd figure it out this fast", he shrugged.
"New rule on drugging clients", Ilsa declared. "No spiked drinks unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Care to explain your definition of "absolutely necessary"?", Guerrero asked, raising an amused eyebrow.
"When they're getting on my nerves."
Half an hour later, however, they had managed to completely wake her. "So, who of the mafia bosses was it?", she asked eagerly. Apparently she had no problem at all with the fact that a) someone had tried poisoning her and b) the team was doing all the work for her.
A certain kind of ignorance can be a blessing. Penny Cleves probably slept well even without chemical help from Guerrero.
"None of them", Winston stated calmly, hoping the graveness of his voice would somehow stop her from being so insufferably smug.
Predictably, it was to no avail. She saw his serious face and said, rather panicky: "Don't tell me it was terrorists. Terrorists are so uninteresting. 9/11 really killed that market."
Everybody stared at her. Except Guerrero. "That would fall under your definition, wouldn't it?", he asked Ilsa.
The look on Ilsa's face implied that she would agree with a whole array of other substances in Penny Cleves' drink, substances that would cause her to do everything but sleep. The Marshall Pucci Foundation had had a small branch office in one of the towers.
Chance accessed a file on the computer and showed Penny a radar picture.
"Back in the 1980s they only made one pic per minute", he explained. "This one is two minutes before the crash – the plane is perfectly on course." He moved the cursor, switched to another picture. "This is one minute before the crash. See the dim dot right next to the plane? The experts identified it as a heat shadow, a common phenomenon with the old radar technique…" He showed them the last picture – lots of dots. The smashed pieces of the plane.
"The dot wasn't a heat shadow." Winston took over from Chance. "Three aircraft carriers were in the vicinity of the plane's route, the French Clemenceau, the British HMS Invincible and the USS Enterprise…"
Penny Cleves eyes rounded.
"Not the spaceship", Ames groaned.
Chance nodded. "They were most likely simulating battle situations that involved aerial combat. Drones are still in common use for firing practice, and they were back then, too. Judging from the dimness of this dot" he showed Penny the first picture again "this is a drone, probably off course."
"We think a jet from one of the carriers was appointed to shoot it down. The pilot located the drone but either didn't see or didn't care about the civilian air plane close by. This kind of practice is often done from quite a distance and he probably relied on the on-board computer of his ammunition to find the correct target."
Penny Cleves gasped. Finally she was beginning to understand the seriousness of the situation.
Or was she?
"He launched an infrared controlled rocket. Infrared technology is heat based. The DC-9's exhaust fumes must have been hotter than the drone – the rocket was diverted…"
"Oh no. Don't tell me the military was involved", Penny blurted out.
"Well, this shouldn't be such a surprise, considering that we already told you about the girl with the naval tattoo…" Winston spoke very slowly, a sure sign that he was on the verge of exploding.
"I was hoping that was a coincidence!" It was unbelievable, she actually said that in all seriousness.
Maybe because professionalism demanded it or maybe because Ilsa simply wanted to see this impertinent person suffer, she nodded at Chance and he opened another file.
"We went through the lists of pilots that were on duty on the carriers at that time, hoping we might find somebody who wanted to ease his conscience after all these years. It is impossible that at least some of the pilots didn't realize the connection between the firing practice and the airplane crash", Chance explained. "What we found was the Communauté Lionceau, a squadron that specialized in aerobatics and was based on the Clemenceau."
Normally he would have warned a client prior to opening the file, but in the case of Penny Cleves… The file contained a photo of a burning airfield, burning debris everywhere, horribly injured people, others in terrified flight…
"Six months after the airplane crash three quarters of the Communauté Lionceau perished during an ill-fated stunt on a flight day in Maine. They and seventy spectators, families, children… The disaster was later attributed to pilot error by the inquiry board that was half British, half US-American because the flight day had been a joint British-American project."
"Wait, are you telling me that the military of THREE countries hushed up the whole thing and that they didn't refrain from killing their own people?" Now Penny Cleves was slowly losing color.
"Hell of a scandal", Guerrero nodded. "You won't even need a new identity, once this is published they can't touch you, they'll be busy enough facing law suits from the families."
Everybody except Penny frowned – Guerrero, comforting a client?
"Unless of course they manage to ward them all off because there's no real proof, just a shard of unknown origin, a dim dot on a thirty year old picture and lots of potential witnesses who are, unfortunately, all dead."
He smiled at her.
"In that case you might indeed have to deal with a retaliation campaign."
Ilsa, behind Penny's back, was making hectic motions. Scaring Penny too much might result in…
"I'm not going to write that article", Penny stated firmly. "I'm definitely not going to spend the rest of my life on the run. For what?"
Ilsa sighed. Now they had a problem. They couldn't launch the article themselves, it would endanger their future activities… the CIA incident after they had found out about Marshall's true circumstances of death had made that very clear – don't mess with the authorities. They had been tiptoeing the line when they had retrieved the body of Guerrero's father, they couldn't afford this kind of stunt again. And there wasn't really anyone they'd burden with this kind of trouble either.
Guerrero, however, was unfazed. "I somehow expected this", he said, took out his cell and sent an already prepared text message.