Jack Cavanaugh - Death Watch

While there are rumors that among the dead are one state governor, two congressmen, and a member of the president’s cabinet, confirmations are being withheld for security reasons.

Beyond the personal tragedies of these deaths are the catastrophic effect they’re having on transportation, commerce, and civic functions. It’s reported that a pilot for Western Airlines died in flight between San Francisco and Dallas. A death watch notice was found in his pocket. The copilot managed to land the plane safely. Airline officials say they will immediately begin screening their pilots using voice stress analysis machines before allowing any pilot or crew member to board the plane.

Despite the assurances of the airlines , many passengers are canceling their flights. Due to the apparent 100 percent accuracy of death watch notices, some commuters fear that a passenger marked for death could possibly doom the entire plane. Amtrak and bus lines are experiencing similar problems.

Meanwhile, in Boise, Idaho, a third-grade schoolteacher died in front of her class. Officials found a death watch notice in her grade book. And traffic in New York’s Holland Tunnel was brought to a standstill when a big-rig truck jackknifed and overturned, spilling hundreds of gallons of milk. The driver was a death watch victim.

Authorities are urging everyone who has received a death watch notice to stay home.

And in Morgantown, West Virginia , the residents of Hillwood Drive are taking matters into their own hands by barricading the entrance to their street. Armed with shotguns, they refuse to let the postman deliver the mail, fearing that he might deliver a death watch notice.

Still others are attempting to avoid death watch notices by refusing to answer their email. According to officials at Microsoft and

Yahoo, cyber mailboxes are bulging with unanswered mail, creating a backlog that is taxing available space on the servers. Ironically, most of the mail is spam.

5:59 a.m. Hunz Vonner was standing outside the hotel waiting for Sydney as she drove into the circle drive. He was opening the door before the Volvo came to a stop.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he snapped.

She would have arrived early; however, before leaving home she’d made a phone call. Even so, she wasn’t late. “You told me to pick you up at—”

“Take me to the FBI field office.”

“We have a meeting—”

“It’s on Wilshire Boulevard.”

“I know where it is.”

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Sydney looked over at him, bit back the comment that was on the tip of her tongue, put the car in gear, and pulled into the street. Downtown traffic was already sluggish.

“Just pull in front. I’ll only be a minute,” Hunz said when they arrived.

“It’s a red zone.”

He looked at her in exasperation. “Just do it, all right?”

Hunz disappeared into the building. Five minutes later, Sydney was still waiting for him, motor running, sitting in a red zone. Two pedestrians informed her she couldn’t park there. She thanked them.

Ten minutes passed. A police cruiser pulled up beside Sydney. A two-man unit. The officer in the passenger seat rolled down his window. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her.

“I’m waiting for someone,” she said, motioning to the FBI building.

Apparently, the officer felt his stare communicated well enough. It did. He had those mirror-reflector style of sunglasses. Sydney didn’t have to wonder if she looked as ridiculous as she sounded. She could see herself in the reflection. She produced her press pass.

“My partner just ran in to get something.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask for details, because she’d already told him everything she knew.

“Move it,” said the officer.

Sydney looked at the front door of the FBI office, hoping to see Hunz. She didn’t.

“Look, lady,” said the officer. “We’re going to circle the block. If you’re still here when we get back, I’m gonna write you up.”

He rolled up his window. The squad car continued on its way.

With one last glance at the front door, Sydney had no choice but to click on her turn signal and pull out into traffic.

She circled the block. Once, twice, three times. On her fourth circuit, Hunz was standing curbside. He was shouting into his cell phone.

Sydney pulled into the red zone to pick him up. He was stepping into the street as she did so, and she almost hit him. He yanked the door open.

“I have no idea where she went,” Hunz shouted into the phone, “but she’s here now.” He snapped the phone shut. “I told you to wait for me.”

“And I told you this is a red zone.” Sydney hit her turn signal. She checked her side mirror just in time to see a police squad car pull up beside her. It angled to block her in.

While Hunz Vonner stewed in the passenger seat, the police officer with the reflector sunglasses took his good sweet time writing Sydney her traffic ticket.

Sydney and Hunz were thirty minutes late for their morning meeting at the station.

The news team was assembled and seated at Command Central when Sydney and Hunz arrived. As usual, Sol Rosenthal and Helen Gordon were in the positions of power. Coanchor Grant Forsythe was in his place next to the producer. Beside Grant was Cori Zinn, in a none-too-subtle staging meant to convince people she belonged at his side in a professional capacity off camera as well as on. Josh Leven and Phil Sanders were absent, as were production crew and interns. Sydney remembered Josh had flown to Chicago the night before to cover a Lakers away game.

Hunz was several steps ahead of Sydney. He pulled out a chair next to Helen and opposite Grant, which left Sydney the chair opposite Cori.

However, before she reached the chair Sol Rosenthal zeroed in on her. He shoved back his chair and pulled her aside. “A minute,” he said. Whether he was asking Sydney for a minute or telling Helen he needed a minute was unclear. All Sydney knew was he was fired up and ready to unload on her a short distance from the table.

“I told you to assist Hunz Vonner in any capacity needed,” he shouted. His voice was easily heard by everyone at Command Central. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Sydney said.

“Have you? Then why did you refuse to drive him to locations last night? And this morning you drove off and left him standing on the street.”

“I was in a red zone,” Sydney said.

But Rosenthal wasn’t listening. He didn’t want a discussion, he wanted contrition and compliance. He also wanted to display his authority, which had been bruised yesterday in front of his European guest. Sydney knew defending herself would be useless. Showing him the parking ticket would be useless. So she said nothing.

“I have to say I’m disappointed in you,” Rosenthal said. “I didn’t expect this kind of behavior from you.”

What kind of behavior? Sydney felt like she was a teenager being chewed out by her parents for something she didn’t do. To complete the image, Cori sat a few feet away sniggering like a spoiled sibling.

Sol Rosenthal gave her an unblinking stare, finished for the moment at least. But this wasn’t the last Sydney would hear of this. She knew from experience Sol would bring it up again in meetings and conversations and snide comments for the next month or two. He was the kind of guy who never let you forget an error, real or perceived.

Sydney followed him back to the table.

Helen took charge. “Overnight this death watch thing has turned into an international nightmare,” she said. “Not since 9/11 have I seen our nation react to something so immediately and universally. People are scared. I’m scared. So what do we have?”