Chapter Thirteen – Theories

"…we can now confirm that the explosion at the infamous Park Hotel a few days ago was no accident. Crime scene investigators have found traces of nitroglycerin, a highly volatile and unstable substance that serves a main ingredient for TNT, in the hotel room," the serious news anchor reported.

"How the hell did they get that information?" Antonio Vest muttered.

Lennie cast a glance in the Nightly News executive officer's direction but he said nothing, instead he bit his lower lip in frustration.

The reporter had come straight to the office after having visited his wounded colleague at the hospital to fill in the blanks. Vest had appreciated being informed but he still wished he hadn't been left out at all.

"I'm sorry I'm not in the mood to hear anymore," Lennie finally said as he left the main studio and headed for the bustling hallway.

Antonio Vest nodded at an assistant who instantly made his way over to him.

"Keep monitor the news flow and see to it that we're keeping up. I want us to deliver and do it with style before anyone else does – do you understand?" he asked testily although his anger was not really directed toward the poor assistant.

"I'll see to it, sir," the young man promised.

Reluctantly Vest nodded and headed after Lennie.

"I'm sorry," Lennie said as his superior appeared in the doorway. "I guess it hit a bit too close to home this time."

Vest sighed and ran a hand through his thick black hair in frustration. "I suppose we're so focused on hunting for news and so used to dealing with them in a detached manner that we're no longer reflecting the lives of those it really affects. Everyday there are tragedies in the world, in this business we have to shut out our own feelings otherwise it would be overwhelming," he said.

Silence settled over the two men but when their eyes met it was in mutual understanding. They began to walk down the hallway toward Vest's office.

"How's Jeffrey doing?" Antonio finally managed.

"Thank heavens he's getting better," Lennie replied softly. "For a while there I doubted his chances of survival. The doctors told me it was touch and go. He hang in the middle for 48 hours before his condition stabilized."

Antonio's eyes darkened and he swallowed as he walked through the door with Lennie in tow.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vest for not letting you know earlier but-"

"Lennie, I don't blame you. You've had your hands full and, if I'm to be blunt, it could have been you in that hospital bed," Antonio countered seriously. "I'm just grateful you're still alive – all of you."

"It was awful," Lennie said solemnly. "He looked horrible, there was blood everywhere. And his wife and little daughter – they sat at his bedside crying."

Antonio said nothing as he sat down behind his desk but his dismay showed clearly in his face.

"Who would do such a thing?" Lennie asked, his voice raised and agitated. "We're just a bunch of reporters."

"I think the three of you have stumbled into something sinister, something bigger that we don't know about," Antonio said darkly. "How's Maggie doing?"

Lennie sighed in frustration. "I finally got her to take a nap and rest for a few hours. She's at my place, in the guestroom. I have a bad feeling about this. I think it's Maggie they were really after," he confessed.

Antonio nodded. "The infamous documents concerning Harrison Industries," he mused.

"I thought she'd gone crazy, that the crash had been too much for her. Then, the more I think about it the more it scares me, it's not as far-fetched as I first thought," Lennie said truthfully. "I've seen the documents, they are authentic there is no question about it. If they are made public Harrison Industries would face severe charges that would eventually bring the company down. I don't know what's going on behind closed doors but I do know that Doctor Kevin Harrison supposedly died sometime after the Concorde buried itself in the snow at the ski resort."

"He died of a stroke after a charity event?" Antonio stated curiously with a frown.

Lennie shook his head and began to pace. "I don't buy that. It's too much of a coincidence," he returned. "It's the way Carl Parker was eliminated in Maggie's apartment, the way Doctor Harrison told her about how Parker had tried to blackmail him."

"The man is rich, serves his country by contributing to our defenses. The guy is even highly associated with several charity organizations," Antonio reasoned. "Why would a man like Harrison take the risk of losing everything on a whim?"

"Who knows," Lennie said in exasperation. "Maybe someone was blackmailing Doctor Harrison and cleverly disposed of him? Like I said; who knows what's going on back there."

"Suppose Doctor Harrison really was behind it," Antonio reasoned, still uncertain.

Lennie nodded. "Maggie is clever and she's got the right connections. She has the power to bring him down," he explained. "Harrison met her at the airport, he knew what aircraft she was to board and where she was heading. He rescheduled his Buzzard test-"

Antonio turned to stare at the man before him, his face a mask of shock and disbelief at the same time. "I don't like where this conversation is going," he said.

"Doctor Harrison reprogrammed the drone, he hunted that aircraft down, his aim was to blow it out of the sky and claim it was an accident!" Lennie seethed angrily.

"You have no proof of that!" Antonio returned sharply.

"Do you know he would lose everything, even his freedom?" Lennie reasoned, having calmed down a bit. "He was obsessed with the idea of getting rid of her no matter the cost. He contacted an associate in France and hired a fighter jet to finish the job."

"Stop it Lennie, you're scaring me," Antonio said.

"It's all about contacts," Lennie returned simply with a shrug of his stiff shoulders. "His network is vast and he knows how to use it."

"Even if he did, that's not what eventually brought the Concorde out of the sky," The executive officer at the Nightly News reasoned. "Don't tell me Harrison arranged for that to happen as well. I'm not ready to accept it."

OOOOOO

Eli Sande ran a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing the oil stanched concrete floor at the large maintenance hangar. Tim Johnston watched him with a sigh and scratched the back of his neck.

"So you mean to tell me," Sande began angrily. "That our own Chief Engineer here in France tried to kill everyone on that flight?"

"It's a theory," Tim admitted reluctantly.

"Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?" the president of FWA fired back at him in disbelief.

"Think about it," Tim reasoned as he thoughtfully ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, his eyes downcast. "There is no other plausible explanation."

"Now hold on a minute. You said the maintenance on the Concorde was filed and signed correctly. They even wrote down extra notes in the marginal and photo documented the procedures," Sande said.

"Yes, I don't deny that," Tim said with a shrug. "It's almost like Froelich had expected his work to be investigated. I just – the point is, sir, that there is something here that doesn't make sense."

"Your damn right about that," Eli muttered angrily. "Have the investigators been here to check our logs?"

"They have expressed their interest to do so and so has the factory since Vice President Dalton tried to file an insurance claim toward the manufacturer," Johnston said pointedly.

"Do you know what that aircraft cost us?" Eli countered. "Do you know how long we had to fight to even be able to lease it?"

"Something tells me you're about to tell me," Tim returned calmly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Eli waved a hand at him and shook his head. "Not important," he said.

"There is something else," Tim said darkly as he turned his focus entirely on Mr. Sande. "I made an enquiry to the software developer that installed the interface for the locking mechanism. I wanted to know if it would be possible for a skilled engineer to tamper with the system and cause it to fail."

"What was their answer?" Eli asked curiously.

"That I wasn't the first one to ask that question," he said. "A request has been made from the safety board for the same type of information."

Eli harrumphed as he started to pace again. "And what does the police say about the money found on Froelich? Do they know where they came from or how he acquired it?" he asked.

"With all due respect, Mr. Sande," Tim began wearily. "I've had my hands full just to go through everything at our end and see to it that no errors have been done. It's not like the police would share that kind of information in the middle of an investigation anyway – at least not with the chief engineer at FWA."

The president of the company turned to look at him and a faint but sad smile crossed his lips. "I apologize for sounding so impatient and I know you have a lot on your plate, Tim. I'm sorry. I just want an end to this whole mess," he stated.

"Believe me when I say that you're not alone," Tim said and returned the smile. "If there wasn't something else you wanted me to have a look at I think I should head back to the States."

"Tired of France already?" Eli asked in amusement. "My wife suggested I'd stay a long time."

Tim sighed and shook his head tiredly. "Au contraire," he said with a tight smile. "I've enjoyed my stay here, although I wish the circumstances for my visit had been different. I'd tell you – that woman, Celine, that runs the office, she's quite something. I could have stayed longer just to see her but I had a pile of work on my desk when I left."

"I can have you stay just to oversee the employment of Froelich's successor," Eli suggested with a cunning smirk.

"I have to admit it's a very tempting offer, sir," Tim added with a chuckle.

OOOOOO

Gemma felt her anger rising as she spoke to the self-assured man behind the counter and it took all her willpower to stay polite. She fought back the tear threatening to spring from her eye at any moment and straightened where she stood in the lobby of the Harrison Industries Head Office.

"Let me get this straight," she said in a soft yet angry voice. "You deny me the right to go to my late husband's office?"

She could see the young man hastily look away for a moment as if unsure of how to act around her. Gemma suddenly felt very pleased with herself as she crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for his next move. He had certainly not anticipated to meet her and didn't know how she looked. He had obviously taken her for a nosy reporter. However, even if Gemma had been a reporter she would have told him he'd crossed the line.

"Mrs. Harrison," he finally managed with a plastered smile. "My apologies ma'am I didn't realize it was you."

She smiled back but it didn't reach her eyes, she didn't even bother keeping up appearances. "Now that you do, get out of my way, please," she said but her tone held no room for argument as she strode past him and into the elevator.

The administration clerk spared her a glance over his shoulder as he unconsciously started chewing on his bottom lip. He reached the desk in two long strides and picked up the phone. After only a few seconds, a gruff voice came on at the other end.

"Yes," the deputy director said.

"Sir, its James Guire at the front desk. We might have a problem," he said seriously.

"Another one?" the deputy director replied sarcastically.

"Mrs. Harrison is on her way to Doctor Harrison's office," he explained.

"She's mourning, she's not looking for documents. We'll leave her alone for now, that's the best thing. If we don't then she'll get suspicious," he reasoned. "Mrs. Harrison once helped her husband to start this company. You'll see to it that she gets everything she asks for. The main reason for coming here is probably just to see how the company has grown and to clear out his office. Call Willie Halpern and have him come to the late doctor's office, he's an old friend of the family. I am sure he can put her mind at ease."

OOOOOO