Chapter Seven – Upcoming Trouble
"Okay, that's enough for now Maggie, we've been at it the entire night," Lennie admonished as he studied her tired face. "Let's take a break and continue later."
Jeff nodded. "I concur. I happen to know that they are serving some pretty good breakfast downstairs in the restaurant. Why don't we go and grab a bite?"
Maggie chuckled slightly as she put down one of the folders she'd been studying closely for the last fifteen minutes. "What would I do without you two?" she asked jovially.
"Come on," Jeffrey said as he ushered her out through the door. "You'll feel a lot better when you've eaten."
The trio walked down the corridor toward the elevator, oblivious to the man that appeared behind them.
Clad in a waiters uniform the man waited until they were out of sight before strolling toward the now empty room. He fished up the necessary tool and then quickly picked the lock to the reporter's room. He casually glanced in both directions of the corridor before he walked in and closed the door behind him.
OOOOOO
The President of the Federation World Airlines, Eli Sande was sick and tired of people, especially reporters, as he entered the foyer at the luxury hotel that he'd booked for this special trip to Russia. Amy looked both bored and anxious at the same time as she walked close to him, her hand in his. Eli couldn't help glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to walk up to him and demand an interview at any second.
"Good evening, sir, ma'am," the well-clad woman, behind the counter at the reception, said as they walked up to her. "Do you have a booked reservation for tonight?"
"Yes," he said sternly. "In the name of Mr. and Mrs. Sande."
"One moment, please," the clerk said as she shuffled through some papers. "Here we are."
Amy looked at her hopefully as the woman produced a key for them.
"Welcome to Star of Moscow," she said with a smile and if she recognized their faces or names from the news she didn't comment on it. "Your room is situated on the eight floor, section three. The easiest way to get there would be to take the elevator and then, when you've arrived at the designated floor, take to your right and follow the markings to section three. The room number is 811."
"Thank you," Amy said with a faint smile as she took the key and started to head for the elevator.
"You go ahead, Amy," Eli said as he reached for his wallet to pay for the room.
"Mr. Sande. It seems you're an important man. There has been several calls for you," the receptionist said politely.
"I'm not interested in talking to reporters," he said cryptically.
"One of the callers insisted that you'd call as soon as we'd passed on his message," she said. "He said his name was Joshua Dalton and that you'd know what to do."
Eli sighed in frustration and then nodded at her. "Would I be able to dial long distance from our room?"
"Of course, sir," she said as he handed him the receipt.
He nodded his thanks and headed for the elevator, his mood somber. A few minutes later he knocked on the door and waited for Amy to let him in.
The door opened, revealing her wrapped in a gown, and he could hear the steaming water pour into the bathtub in the adjacent bathroom.
"Anything wrong?" she asked softly as she took in his dour appearance.
He forced a smile on his lips as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him, locking it. "No, everything is fine. Why don't you slip into the tub while I pour myself a drink?"
She nodded and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading for the bathroom.
He stared after her for a moment and then slowly walked across the room to pick up the phone. The connection was established within seconds and the man half across the globe picked up on the second ring.
"It's me," Eli said, not bothering with any formal greeting.
"Finally," the Vice President of FWA said with relief. "Phone lines have been bustling all day long- well since our newly bought supersonic aircraft crashed anyway. We have to make an official statement. Everyone wonders what the hell happened."
"It broke apart," Eli answered, his voice harsh.
"I've contacted the insurance company as regulations require during the circumstances and they would love to throw this right back at us and call it a pilot error," Dalton said.
"I told you, the aircraft broke apart. Had it not been for our boys up front we'd all be dead," Eli countered. "If we're to take any action it is to enlighten the factory that we've been given a faulty airliner."
"They won't be happy to hear that and their lawyers-"
"Look, I've just walked away from a flight accident. I was onboard the plane for heaven's sake!" Eli said and fought to level his voice. "You bring the lawyers to me if they give you any trouble."
"Yes, sir. I'll get on to it right away," Dalton said dejectedly. "I'll let you know the outcome."
"Thank you, Josh," Eli replied, his voice softening.
There was a click and the call was terminated.
Eli sank back in the armchair and stared out over the busy streets of Moscow, his eyes unseeing and his mind miles away.
OOOOOO
Maggie Whelan sat down heavily on the wooden chair and placed a tray of various dishes from the breakfast line in front of her on the large round table. Her colleagues joined her a minute later, their own trays filled to the brink.
"I'd forgotten how hungry I really was but this delicious blend of cinnamon, pancakes, eggs and bacon kindly reminded me," Lennie said happily as he sat down to Maggie's left.
She chuckled and shook her head at him as Jeffrey smirked broadly with a cocked eyebrow at Lennie and then nodded toward Maggie. "And I thought I was hungry," he remarked.
There was a moment of silence at the table as everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts and musings about the accident. The only thing that could be heard was the chatter of people in the crowded restaurant.
"So-," Maggie began but was quickly interrupted by Lennie.
"Can't you relax for two minutes," he complained lightly. "I'm trying to savior my breakfast."
She turned to him with a faint, ghostly smile on her lips. "Someone tried to kill me last night, Lennie. Actually, someone tried to kill all of us on that flight. I'm sure of it now and I want to know why," she said seriously, her voice hollow and dark.
"You said it yourself sometime around midnight. First Carl Parker tried to warn you about Harrison industries illegal business and was shot back at your place. Then man then tried to end your life as well. When you questioned Doctor Harrison about it he claimed Parker was blackmailing you and you believed him-" Jeffrey trailed off, looking intently on Maggie, his expression one of worry. "-at least for a short time," he finished.
Lennie nodded as he dug into his scrambled eggs. "The widow of Parker met you at the airport and handed you the documents that he'd managed to get his hands on at the company's head office. Then, according to your beliefs, Harrison tried to take care of the Concorde with his Buzzard drone and hoped it would have been seen upon as a tragic accident," he reasoned.
Maggie looked at them, one at a time, suspiciously and then took a sip of her double espresso. "After what we saw in these documents do you still believe that it's far-fetched?" she asked.
Jeffrey nodded thoughtfully, carefully weighing his words before speaking. "Let me put it this way. It is not us you need to convince but a court of justice and so far you have absolutely no evidence of your accusations. You're playing by a hunch and while your hunches are usually right they are dangerous to pursue," he cautioned.
"Why take down the whole aircraft, why not simply take care of you when the Concorde had landed in Paris?" Lennie asked curiously.
"Because he was desperate," she whispered. "He saw an opportunity and he took it. The Buzzard test was readied just as FWA flight 28 headed east from Dulles. Having the technology they could have easily overheard the pilots on the radio while in connection to the tower and gotten the course."
"By doing so he risked letting the world know that his Buzzard had failed the scheduled test and that the military might back out of the deal," Jeffrey reasoned with a frown. "It's a lot that's on stake."
"Like he told me back in Washington, he's already a wealthy man. He didn't need to complete the contract but he needed me out of the way and the documents destroyed. If I go public with this information the company will lose it credibility and Doctor Harrison will be persecuted," she said darkly.
Jeffrey shook his head as he divulged into the last sausage on his plate. "I don't know about this Maggie but I'll tell you one thing; if it is as you say then you're onto something big and deadly," he cautioned.
She sipped the last delicate drops of espresso from the plain white cup and made to stand, eager to see if she could find something more in all the files given to her.
Lennie noted the bundle that she held under her arm and made a face. "I see you took them with you," he remarked.
"I didn't want to leave them," she reasoned and waited for her colleagues to follow her back to the hotel room.
"The room is locked Maggie and you're the only one with the key. No one else knows you're in Washington except us and a handful back at the office," Jeffrey reasoned, suddenly worried that his colleague was starting to get paranoid.
OOOOOO
Joanna Jones stood gazing out over the snowy landscape, taking in the beautiful view. She let out a shaky breath and suddenly froze as a hand gently squeezed her shoulder. She turned sheepishly toward Claude Beaumont, her coworker, with a smile. He was clad in a parkas with a scarf wrapped high around his neck but still managed to look frozen. Joanna couldn't help but to chuckle at him.
"What?" he asked lightly as he returned the smile.
"Nothing, I just remembered how much you liked snow and how you used to talk about the French-Canadian winters," she said cheekily.
"It's nothing like this," he said, shifting his focus. "Besides, I don't usually walk out in the snow dressed for work."
She nodded and followed his gaze toward the wreck of the aircraft. The place seemed to be milling with people clad in fluorescent jackets, it was only the nuances and variation of the company logo at their backs that separated them from each other.
"What do they think they'll find?" Claude asked rhetorically.
Joanna shook her head somberly. "I don't know. I feel left out of the loop. It wasn't until an hour ago that I learned what really happened."
Claude's face darkened. "The cargo door blowing off?" he asked.
Joanna nodded, her hazel eyes darkened and filled with what seemed to be a light fury and desperation. "Why would it blow off?"
"I wish I knew Joanna," Claude let on dejectedly. "But somehow I don't think it was an accident. I can't explain why, it's a gut feeling I have and judging by the frenetic work these guys are putting into the effort of going over the wreckage I'm sure they don't consider it a coincidence either."
Joanna sighed deeply as she rubbed her aching forehead. "I just want to get out of here and forget the whole thing. Go back to someplace warm where the sun is shining and the beach is near. When are we to leave?" she asked.
"Before I came out here I had a word with the investigator and we are free to leave anytime we want. Apparently the rescue chopper is standing by and the pilot will gladly ferry us to Innsbruck anytime," Claude filled in and then eyed Joanna with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I don't know, I'm banged up and I feel on edge. I'm still having a hard time contemplating what happened," she admitted wearily. "I woke up in cold sweat last night."
"You're not the only one," he said in a subdued voice. "Come on, let' get back inside and warm up."
OOOOOO