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  Harper glared at Fitzpatrick. “I could have you fired.”

  He nodded. “Yes, you could. But, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  Fitzpatrick shook his head. “No, I’m not threatening you. I’m just telling you like it is. I am not the only one who feels like this, even though I am the only one you are stealing ideas from. It is time for you to stop.”

  Harper said nothing. Fitzpatrick knew no one had ever stood up to him before. Harper did have experience when he had worked for the New Hampshire Bureau of Emergency Management, but now, he was more of a politician than a server of the public. He was also the first one in FEMA history who had never gone to a disaster site to see for himself. Fitzpatrick knew Harper looked at this job as nothing more than a stepping-stone to a higher political office. He had learned this through the grapevine. Since he wasn’t in the same social circles as Harper, it was virtually impossible to verify, but his suspicions were high that he was right. Harper was just a politician looking for attention.

  “Just what do you think you are doing?” Harper asked, his eyes still glaring at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are doing this? Trying to show me up?”

  Fitzpatrick leaned forward. “I’m not trying to show you up. I’m just tired of not getting credit for what I’ve been doing.”

  “You are trying to get my job, aren’t you?”

  Fitzpatrick wondered where this came from. Yes, he wanted the job, but there were very few people he had told that to and none of them would have told Harper. He was sure he could do a better job than Harper was doing. Harper was lousy as a boss. He didn’t know how to deal with people. No one liked him, least of all him.

  “What makes you think that?”

  Harper narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t give me that. I know what you are doing.” He leaned his hands on the desk, leaning forward so he was only inches from Fitzpatrick‘s face.

  “Don’t even think that you are going to take away my job from me. You don’t have it in you to do that. I know your type and I can crush you. So, I suggest you knock off the self-righteous attitude and go with the program. My program.”

  Fitzpatrick just stared at him. He was about to say something, but decided against it. He wanted this over.

  Harper stood up, went to the door, and then he turned around and looked at him.

  “I’m giving you one hour to make your decision.”

  “What decision is that?”

  “To contact the television station and give them a new interview, telling them that you were wrong. Tell them I am behind all of it. Not you.”

  Fitzpatrick stared at him. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He figured Harper would go ballistic, but he hadn’t expected to be threatened. Especially threatened with what he knew was a lie.

  Harper opened the door and walked out, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Well, that went well. Even better than he had hoped. Now he didn’t feel bad at all about what he was going to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MONDAY LATE MORNING

  It was almost eleven o’clock by the time Maggie woke up. She had taken another of the pills the psychiatrist had given her last night. Not so much to forget the children in the fire or her fight with Scott, but to sleep after last night’s adventure. She stretched in bed, and then was immediately sorry she had. She was still sore from her hill climbing last night. Finally, she got up and took a long hot shower. By the time she finished, she felt better. Then she got dressed in jeans and a light yellow short-sleeved t-shirt, pulling her shoulder length hair back into a high ponytail.

  Next, she went into the kitchen. Since it was late, she decided to have a late breakfast instead of lunch. Getting into the refrigerator, she got out the eggs, butter and milk, setting them on the counter. Then she got out a bowl and the frying pan. She placed a small pat of butter in the frying pan and turned the burner on low.

  It was now almost noon, so she walked over to the small television sitting on the corner of the counter and turned it on. Might as well see what was going on in the world, she thought as she went back to preparing her breakfast. She cracked two eggs into the bowl, put in a little milk, and then added some dried onion and a dash of Italian seasonings. She beat the mixture, while she waited for the butter to finish melting. A few moments later, she poured the egg mixture in the frying pan.

  Just then, the news began. The lead story was breaking news. On the screen was a female reporter. She was standing in front of an airport terminal. Maggie wondered what was going on. While she watched the reporter, she continued stirring the eggs in the frying pan.

  “Two hours ago, we reported that a plane from London, DAC flight 3351, which was to have arrived at noon last Friday, had, in fact, finally arrived back here yesterday. We have now learned that on that plane was a crew of seven, consisting of a pilot, first officer, a back-up pilot and first officer, and three female flight attendants. Also on the plane were six passengers. At this time, no one knows where the crew or the passengers are, but our source tells us they didn’t come back with the plane. Our source said there was investigators onboard flight 3351 when it came back, and the coroner’s office took two dead bodies off the plane. At this time, we still don’t know who the victims are.”

  Maggie took her eggs off the burner, put them on a plate, and then sat down at the kitchen table, continuing to watch the television while she ate.

  The reporter continued.

  “We now have another breaking story. It seems Assistant Director James Fitzpatrick, who is the Administrator of Disaster Operations with FEMA, is missing. He had gone to Texas on Saturday to visit the southeastern section of Texas, hit a month ago by Hurricane Marco. He toured the area, to see how the relief efforts were going and to see if there any further problems he needed to take care of. News coverage of that visit aired on this station last night. According to his secretary, he had a tumultuous meeting with the Administrator of FEMA early this morning. He left after that and no one has seen or heard from since. At this point, it has been almost four hours since he left. If anyone has seen him, please call your local police department.”

  When the reporter finished, they showed a formal picture of James Fitzpatrick. Maggie shook her head. Why would anyone care if the man left work after what sounded like a shouting match with his boss? She clicked off the television and then picked up her dishes and took them to the sink. Then she rinsed them off and sat them in the sink. She would wash dishes later. Next, she got out a Dr Pepper, opened it and took a long drink. She walked out to the porch and sat down. On the other hill, the house was as quiet as it always was.

  Suddenly, a chill went down her spine. The other story. The story about the missing flight crew and passenger. What had they said? Two pilots and two first officers, and three female flight attendants. That was seven people; the same number of people who got off the bus and went down into the basement. Then she remembered something else. The three women looked to have the same clothing on. Could they be the missing flight crew? If so, why were they here? And who were the others who went inside the house?

  Maggie stood up and began pacing the floor; debating what to do. Could she be wrong. Was the house a bed and breakfast again and the people were just guests? But, why did they go in the basement? Were there more rooms down there? Or had the people just stayed overnight? She hadn’t been watching the house constantly, so they could have left and she wouldn’t have known it. But, even that didn’t make sense. There had been a man coming three times a day for two days, carrying in boxes of what she figured was food. No, everyone was still in the house.

  Then she thought of something. She walked into the bedroom and got out her laptop. Then went back out to the porch and sat down. She glanced over at the house, but nothing was going on. Looking back at her computer, she opened it and turned it on. She slipped in the computer card and got on the internet. Where
should she look first? Where could she find the information she needed?

  Since the plane was supposed to have landed in New York, she first went to the New York Times website to see if anything was online yet. There was. The online story was on the first page and gave the same details as she had heard on the television. What she wanted was pictures, but there wasn’t any.

  What about other news networks? First, she went to the CNN website. If anyone were actively searching out a news story, CNN would be. The story was on the first page, but still no pictures of the crew. Maybe they hadn’t found out who the crew was yet. She was sure they were running that story down. She also knew there was no point in checking the other news websites. If CNN didn’t have the flight crew’s names and pictures, none of the others would either.

  Next, she went to the DAC airlines website. If she could find out what kind of uniforms they wore, she would be able to confirm what she was suspecting. It took a while, since mostly what they wanted to do was to sell you a ticket. Finally, she found the page about career opportunities and clicked under flight attendants. On that page was a picture of several women in various forms of the uniform.

  Maggie leaned back in the lounge chair and shook her head. One of the women on the screen was wearing what she had seen the three women wearing: black skirt, white blouse, and a black vest. Next, she clicked on the pilots. While she wasn’t sure which color she was looking at, they were wearing either dark blue or black jackets. Two of the men she had seen were wearing the dark jackets, but she wasn’t sure which color. Two other men were wearing white shirts, dark ties and dark pants. Each one was pulling a set of rolling carry-on luggage. Could they be the missing flight crew or was this just a coincidence? No, it wasn’t a coincidence. She knew it had to be them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MONDAY AFTERNOON

  NEW YORK FBI HEADQUARTERS

  “Mr. Boyer, what happened?” Matt was clenching the phone.

  “Agent Palmer, I don’t know what happened. I swear. I had nothing to do with the information getting out. I didn’t give it.”

  “Then who did? It has to be someone with the knowledge of how many was on that plane.”

  “I have no idea who gave it out. It is standard to have that many crewmembers on an international flight. But, I am going to find out who leaked the information and get them fired. Mr. Dawson is having a fit, so I will have to fire them before he does. Oh, I found out that two more flight attendants were supposed to have been on that flight because of the large tour group, but when the group cancelled, the girls elected to stay in London a couple more days.”

  “Were they at the airport when the passengers got on board?” Matt finally found himself a little less stressed.

  “Yes, but when they found out what happened, they left. I’m assuming you are asking if they saw the passengers.”

  “Yes. What about the people working in the terminal?”

  “I talked to them. They didn’t notice anything unusual.”

  Figures, Matt thought. After he saw the pictures, he wouldn’t have thought anything about them either.

  “I can understand that. I was just hoping someone noticed something.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Alright, Mr. Boyer. Keep a lid on the names of the crewmembers and passengers. We don’t know where they are or what has happened to them. If the media gets a hold of their names their lives could be in danger.”

  “I understand. The two wives are already having a fit. Right now I am avoiding them.”

  “I imagine you are. I’ll get back in touch if something comes up.”

  They said goodbye and Matt hung up. If he thought the weekend was frustrating, this was worse. He put his head in his hands. He had no idea who had leaked the information, but now every news network was running with it. He was sure Boyer was a walking basket case. Having to deal with the pilot’s wives would be more than he could stand. While he was sure Boyer had nothing to do with the leak, there was no question Boyer was feeling the brunt of it. He hadn’t said, but Matt was sure all the local networks as well as several national networks were after information from him. Even CNN mentioned they were getting no response from Boyer. All the local and major news networks were also hounding the FBI. They all wanted information and an explanation of what happened, neither of which anyone was giving, mainly because no one had any answers.

  There was one thing Matt knew that Boyer didn’t, and that was the real names of two of the passengers. They not only knew who they were, but also what they were capable of doing. The million-dollar question was where are they? Were they in the U.S., or somewhere else? It was obvious that Michael Whitcomb could hack into whatever computer system he wanted anywhere in the world. So, they might not be in the U.S. But, if that was the case, why had they gone to such lengths to kill two CIA agents, stuff them on a plane, hijack the plane, and take the flight crew? He was sure, eventually, they would know where Michael Whitcomb was. Unfortunately, by that time, it would be too late to stop him.

  The door to the office opened, Matt looked up as Joe Petrovich walked in. Joe was stocky, at least twenty pounds overweight, had thinning dark hair. He was two years away from retiring. At his request, they had stuck him in a paperwork job. At forty-five years old, Joe didn’t seem to mind being stuck doing mediocre jobs. Because of the sudden media frenzy, they assigned him to field phone calls for the FBI. He had a two-inch thick stack of papers in his hand. Matt looked up as he walked towards him.

  “Anything interesting?”

  “That depends on what you consider interesting.”

  “That many crackpots, huh?”

  Petrovich nodded. “Got that right. I’ve had calls coming in from all over a four state area, with everyone saying they knew where the crew and passengers are.”

  “Any legitimate ones?”

  “Not really.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Well, you gave me the photo’s of each of the crew and passengers, and none of the descriptions they gave matched. But, I had to write out a record anyway.” He held up the stack of papers in his hand.

  “So, do you have anything to give me?” Matt knew he was pleading. Right now, he needed a good lead. Any lead.

  “Well, the Special Agent-In-Charge from Washington sent a fax. Guess he is sending it to all field offices too. Anyway, it seems James Fitzpatrick, the Assistant Administrator of Disaster Operations at FEMA, has disappeared. He was seen in his office this morning, but after a heated meeting in his office this morning he walked out and no one has been able to get in touch with him or find him since then.”

  “Isn’t he the same one who was on that special report on last night’s evening news?”

  Petrovich nodded. “Yep, same one. Heard a news crew met him when he went down to Texas on Saturday. But, from what I’ve heard, the Administrator has been taking credit for what he has been doing, so it looks like he got even.”

  Matt laughed. “I can imagine how that meeting went. But, why would he disappear? It doesn’t make sense. And why report it so soon? He’s only been gone for a few hours.”

  “That’s what I wondered too. The Administrator from FEMA called our Director in Washington, and he ordered it to be sent out to all the field offices.”

  “Great. Not only do we have to find a couple of hackers, we have to find a member of FEMA. Which one is more important?”

  Petrovich shrugged. “That’s easy. The hackers. What damage can a member of FEMA do?”

  Matt laughed. “Got that right. Maybe the Administrator just wants to get rid of him. You know how politicians are. Get rid of someone and put a relative in that spot.”

  “Yep, happens all the time in Washington. Maybe this is a cover-up and the Administrator of FEMA has already gotten rid of Fitzpatrick.”

  Matt nodded. “Hadn’t thought of it that way. Guess we will have to wait and see how it all shakes out. I still say it is too soon to worry about him.”

  �
��I think so too. My guess is Fitzpatrick is out celebrating about showing up the Administrator.”

  “That’s probably true. So, do you have any good news for me?” Matt asked. He was beginning to feel desperate. He wanted to find the hackers before they struck again. The way it was going, he had his doubts that would happen. And then Whitcomb would disappear again.

  Petrovich looked down at the top page on the pile he carried. “Well, there was one. The woman refused to give me her number, but she said she has seen the crew.”

  “How is this one any different?”

  “I asked her what she saw and she described what the three women and the four men were wearing.”

  “Can’t people get that on the internet?”

  “Probably. She said they came to this house late Friday night, told me the number of people she had seen and that two of the men were wearing white shirts, dark ties and dark pants.”

  Matt sat up straight in the chair. “She said what?” His mind was racing. While they weren’t sure where the passengers and flight crew had gone to, but arriving somewhere later on Friday was highly conceivable. And the pictures of the crew did have two men wearing white shirts, ties and dark pants. The other two men, who he had assumed was the pilot and first officer, were in uniform. “Where did she see them?”

  Petrovich shook his head. “She wouldn’t say. She said she figured the FBI was over the case and I said we were. Then she wanted to talk to the agent in charge of the case. I tried, but she wouldn’t give me any more information other than she knew where they were.”