Chapter 19

Strands

“I'm sorry.

Your call cannot be completed as dialed.

Please, hang up and dial again. ”

- Public Service Announcement, AT&T

Billy Melrose had skipped lunch and settled for a vending machine sandwich and bad coffee for supper. Days just kept getting 'shorter' and 'shorter' somehow. He knew the number of hours left to rescue his best agent were counting down quickly, all too quickly.

A phone rang. The front desk was requesting permission to send someone upstairs with a parcel. He approved the irregularity in normal procedure realizing it had to be the phone company records they had been waiting for.

Opening the bulky, well-sealed envelope, he quickly perused the multiple-page document inside. It was more than he had dared to hope for. He stuck his head out of his office and let out a roar that echoed across the bullpen.

"Francine!"

The startled female operative jumped. She had all but fallen asleep, sitting at her desk. She was that exhausted, but the tone of his voice said 'now' and she went. Billy's face was grim. Still, he looked more hopeful than he had at any point since this all began. Quickly she decided that this must be more 'good news' as opposed to the 'not-so-good news' they'd been dealing with all day. It was amazing how many 'blind leads' the old warehouse had provided.

He waved a large sheaf of paper in front of her and pushed them into her now outstretched hands. He offered no explanation, but left Francine to create her own interpretation of the raw data. Instead he said, "Grab Amanda King and meet me in the parking garage in five minutes. We've got a plane to catch."

"Yes, sir!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Francine Desmond, in turn, burst into the Q-Bureau waving the handful of now-crumpled computer printouts. A startled Amanda King looked up from her computer terminal and the stack of possibly relevant files she'd been slogging her way through.

"We've got 'em!" Francine exclaimed waving the sheets of tractor-feed paper under Amanda King's somewhat astounded nose.

"What? How?"

Amanda wanted to believe, but there had been so many dead ends and incomplete possibilities in their search for Lee Stetson that she had become leery of surprise pronouncements.

"The information from the warehouse phone is in. Amanda," Francine spoke slowly, as if to a child, and placed a hand on each of the housewife-turned-spy's shoulders, "I think this is the break we've been waiting for."

"Did they get a match on the fingerprints? Do we know who has Lee for sure?" Amanda jumped to the immediate conclusion that the information must have come from the FBI database.

"No," Francine responded, "…The terrorists, they used the telephone at the old warehouse. We got more than prints, Amanda. They used it a lot."

Amanda let hope begin to bring color into her cheeks.

"Lee?" It was the logical question.

Francine squeezed gently on the slightly trembling shoulders.

"Lee didn't make any calls that we know of, but whoever did called the same number, long distance, at least a dozen times. Turns out it's a tourist reservation firm in Baltimore, a big one. The Agency went right to their systems operator who pulled their log of incoming calls up on the computer there. It's all on record, Amanda. Who called, when, and what the resolution of each call was. They made reservations with three different domestic airlines. It's an old trick, and all three sets of reservations are flying into different East Coast cities—New York, Boston, and Atlanta—but…all three are Delta flights out of Newark International."

"Newark?" Amanda shook here head. "…Why Newark?"

"Doesn't really matter. Billy's looking into that right now. What matters is, we know where they're going to be and when."

"Amanda, this is the first real break we've had. Grab you're coat. We're going to New Jersey."

* * * * * * * * * *

An Air Force helicopter, liaison can be a wonderful thing, was waiting for the three Agency personnel at Dulles International. The pilot, already going through his pre-flight checks, motioned them into the rear seats of the craft. The military helicopter was airborne almost as soon as their safety restraints were fastened.

They had been fortunate. A backup for Air Force One, this chopper had been sitting at Dulles' military counterpart waiting, on standby, for any emergency. They had commandeered it, quite literally with the Oval Office's blessings.

Dulles itself was not busy at the moment. There were still airplanes taking off and landing on a regular basis, this was Washington's main airport, but no holding pattern of circling ships filled its sky. It was too late for most of the 'evening excursion' flights and, fortunately, it was still early enough that the commuter flights hadn't queued up yet. Once they did, it would be mayhem for two or three hours.

Unless they hit bad weather they should be in Newark before the terrorists scheduled departure.

Amanda King sat with her hand folded in her lap. A paper tissue grasped in one hand had long ago been reduced to shreds. She wanted so much to believe that this was really it, that they would be in the right place and the right time to rescue Lee. They'd been in search of him for so long.

Francine checked her weapon and unconsciously ran her finger repeatedly over the smooth metal of its grip. She almost hoped Stetson's captors would put up a fight. She'd welcome an excuse to use her weapon. It had been a very long week.

Billy Melrose kept up a constant litany of nearly silent, swear words under his breath. This information had to be good. It wasn't a tip from some wino in a back-street alley. It was hard data from a reputable business firm. It had to be good. It had to be.

Billy had called in a bunch of favors. Hell, he'd moved heaven and earth to get this chopper. No matter how this came down, he was going to 'owe' a lot of folks. Right now, he didn't care.

The pearl gray of false dawn shifted through the spectrum to a brilliant reddish-orange as the sun broken over the edge of the horizon.

*Red sky in the morning….* the helicopter's pilot thought, leaving the old saying unfinished.

The military chopper skimmed through the ruddy light over the busy, awakening countryside. It was beautiful, but none of the helicopter's occupants notice it.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Newark International, this is Air Force flight 'four-niner-seven' requesting immediate landing clearance on helicopter pad closest to your main terminal."

"Air Force 'four-niner-seven,' do you have a medical emergency on board?"

"Newark International, negative. No medical emergency, but 'must'—repeat 'must'—make fastest possible landing."

Billy Melrose passed the pilot a hand-printed note that simply said "National security." The pilot nodded.

"Newark International, I have been told to inform you it is a matter of 'national security.'"

"Air Force 'four-niner-seven,' roger that. We will get you down soonest."

The helicopter's radio continued monitoring the now static-filled airwaves. They'd gotten here. Now, they just had to get on the ground and, in the best tradition of the cavalry, "cut 'em off at the pass."

Beginning a prescribed approach pattern for vertical-lift-and-descent vehicles, the helicopter pilot noted that Newark Jetway was already busy. It looked as it every gate along every concourse was filled with a plane of some kind. Some were loading, a few were still being fueled, and fewer still were disembarking passengers and freight.

Amanda King leaned forward. She had no fear of heights. The view was spectacular, but she wasn't sightseeing. She was watching the way some of the medium-sized jets were already moving away from the retractable boarding tunnels and jockeying for position on the multiple runways.

One huge international jet took off with a sonic boom and lingering roar that shook the military ship. Most of the other waiting planes appeared to be smaller propjets or corporate planes. Two of the mid-size jets were making final turns and beginning to rev their engines. Take-off was imminent for both.

*Lee, we're coming,* she pleaded silently. *Wait for us.*

* * * * * * * * * *

"What the hell do you mean, they're gone?" Billy Melrose roared at the hapless Delta Airlines customer service representative.

They had been on the ground less than twenty minutes and he had already ascertained that two of the three flights they were attempting to intercept were in the air. The third flight was almost ready to go and its crew and waiting passengers were chaffing under the restrictions the Agency had slapped on its departure.

"I'm sorry, sir." The Asian-American male behind the counter tried to look sincere, but succeeded only in looking more hassled and frustrated. His professional face was fraying badly. "We received no 'official instructions' to hold those flights. As soon as all passengers were on board, they joined the take-off queue."

"Who the hell ever heard of an airplane leaving early?" Billy muttered to himself. Francine's expression showed that she agreed with him fully, but Amanda was the one who spoke up.

"Actually, sir, it is fairly common practice." Amanda looked at the customer service rep for confirmation. "These are commuter flights. For the most part, the same people take them day after day. It's in everyone's best interest to get where they're going as soon as possible, so they do it."

"Damn fool idea, if I've ever heard one."

"No one's ever complained about getting to their destination early," the rep added straightening his shoulders.

"Okay. Okay, so it's normal," Billy Melrose relented. "Do you mean to tell me both of those planes was completely full when it took off?"

"Yes, sir." The Delta rep looked shocked that it could possibly have happened any other way. "That is the only way they're allowed to do that."

"Then," Billy mused, "two of the three reservations were actually used."

"Boston and New York, sir," Francine supplied knowing he'd want to know which flights they were.

"I assume the Atlanta flight is the distracter in the group, but we'd better check it out anyway. Francine, get down to the boarding area and give the passengers a once-over. Unless you see something suspicious, let them take off. No sense holding anyone else up unnecessarily."

"Amanda, we're going to need to check the flight manifest for the two flights already in the air. We'll need passenger and crew manifest for both."

"I'll get them, sir."

"Meet me back here in fifteen minutes," he told both women. "And you, son, can show me where the airport security area is. I'd like to see their tapes for the last half-hour or so."

"Yes, sir." In a matter of seconds, the wheels were in motion again. It was a setback, but not a catastrophe. Not if they could be sure Lee was on one of those planes. They could have a "welcoming party" waiting for it.

End of Chapter 19

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