James Huston: Marine One

Rachel was disappointed. She wanted to have more responsibility, the kind she had grown accustomed to as a navy officer. "I'll let you know what she says."

I walked up the stairs to my office. Rachel was right behind me. Her office was next to mine. I turned on my computer, checked a few news Web sites, and glanced at my e-mails. Dozens of e-mails from other Marine pilots in the reserves, most wanting everyone else's take on the accident. I could answer those later. I picked up the phone and dialed Kathryn's number.

THE PHONE RANG three times before Kathryn's secretary picked it up. "Ms. Galbraith's office." She sounded harried.

"Morning, Michelle. Is Kathryn available?"

"She's in a conference. May I take a message?"

I could imagine the pandemonium in her office on the fortieth floor at the south end of Manhattan. It wasn't too far from where the World Trade Center towers had been. Kathryn had watched the planes fly into the towers from her office window while she was talking to her twelve-year-old daughter on the phone. She said it had changed her life. They had debated moving their offices to New Jersey, but had decided that would be giving in and had stuck it out in New York.

"Sure, please tell her that Mike Nolan called."

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Nolan. I didn't recognize your voice. It's been pretty crazy-"

"No problem."

"She wants to talk to you. Please hold while I get her."

"Sure."

I waited for almost ten minutes, searching various Web sites for the latest information while I waited. Kathryn came on the line. "Mike, you still there? Sorry."

"No problem. Morning."

"It feels like ten o'clock at night. What a morning. Look, Marine One."

"Yeah, bad deal. Who do you have?"

"WorldCopter. They're getting absolutely hammered in the press. Did you see Senator-"

"I heard about it."

"What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Grandstanding. It's what they do."

"It's really unhelpful right now."

I waited.

"Look, WorldCopter wants an attorney on this right now . They know they're going to be in everyone's crosshairs. They want someone who has tried helicopter cases and understands criminal cases, and they want a helicopter pilot. That's a small group of people. And not only are you a helicopter pilot, it's my recollection when we were working on that Bell case that you actually fly this same helicopter. The same as Marine One."

"True. The standard Marine Corps version."

"WorldCopter knows that no matter what happens, they're the target. NTSB investigation, Senate investigation, probably the FBI, maybe Justice, pretty much everybody in Washington will be after them. And they figure in a crash this big, somebody's going to sue them, one of the widows of the Secret Service agents, who knows? And they think when the investigations are all done, the government will never find pilot error; they'll try to dump this on them."

"They may be right." The NTSB's default logic is that the butler did it-the pilot. But when the butler is the president's pilot and the helicopter is mostly French, their default would probably be to find something wrong with the helicopter.

"So I gave them your name, faxed them your CV. It's a little bit of a hard sell because you're not with a big firm. They're not sure you can handle it. But for now I've convinced everyone. You know what I remember most?"

"What?"

"Remember that Whitcomb case? The one you tried in Virginia?"

"Sure."

"I've never seen anyone cooler under pressure. That whole thing was falling down around your ears and you just got more and more calm. Everybody, including the client, wanted to cave and settle… what did our expert do?"

"He changed his testimony on cross-examination to support the plaintiff's case."

"And you cross-examined him, you impeached your own expert, then told the jury you had been wrong and changed your whole theory in the middle of trial. That took nerves of steel, Mike. If I weren't a woman, I'd say it took something else. But I think this case may take even stronger nerves, if that makes sense. Look, they're very impressed by your hours in this helicopter, and they like that you do criminal work. We want to retain you for WorldCopter. Any conflicts?"

"No, no problem."

"Good. They want you on it right now."

"Fine. They want to meet?"

"No, I mean right now, as in at the accident scene."

That caught me by surprise. "The scene? Attorneys don't go to the scene until the NTSB is done."

"This is different. They don't trust anybody . They want you there, as an adviser at the scene itself. When can you get there?"

"I'm not sure the NTSB will even let me. And if I go to the scene, it might make me a witness. I could get disqualified if it goes to trial if I have to testify."

"I told them that. They don't care. They're willing to take the chance. How long to get out there?"

"Where is it?" I only knew it was on the way to Camp David.

"I'll send you the coordinates. It's where the hills toward Camp David start forming ravines. Supposedly there's a fire road about a thousand yards from the site. It's probably all mud by now. Do you have four-wheel drive?"

"Yeah, sort of. It'll take me at least a couple of hours. Maybe more."

She wasn't deterred. "I'll e-mail you the coordinates. Do you have GPS?"

"Yeah. I'll leave now and head in the general direction. E-mail me the coordinates and I'll punch them in."

"Make sure your cell is on." She hung up. She had never hung up on me without saying anything else.

I grabbed my suit coat and walked to Rachel's office.

She turned toward me. "What's up?"

"Let's go."

"Go where?"

"To the scene. We've been hired to represent WorldCopter."

"And they want us out at the scene?"

"Yep. Right now. Me actually, but I want you there in case I start yelling at somebody. You can tell them I haven't had my medication or something. Come on, we need to go right now. Meet me out at my house in thirty minutes. You remember where I live?"

"Sure. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just your boots, whatever you've got that has Gore-Tex, and your new camera. Don't be late, or I'll leave without you. We've got to get out there before they rig the entire investigation to make WorldCopter look like a shitty foreign company that killed the president."

Rachel was on time. She climbed into my Volvo and we headed off. Kathryn had sent me the coordinates of the accident site and where the fire road intersected the state highway. I had grabbed my VFR flight chart out of my flight bag, which showed the fire road. It didn't show Camp David of course. Charts didn't show a lot of things the government didn't want on charts.

The GPS showed us as a triangle on a moving map heading out of Annapolis into the countryside. I put the coordinates in my handheld GPS as well.

The rain had slightly slackened. It was one of those confused times in March that could become winter or spring, depending on its mood.

The fire road was probably just a dirt strip between the trees and by now was surely just a muddy rut. Worse, it was probably obliterated by the fire and rescue trucks, to say nothing of the FBI, Secret Service, and NTSB vehicles. I had serious doubts I'd be able to get through the mess in my Volvo SUV.

Rachel asked, "You ever been out this way?"

"I've been to Catoctin Mountain Park -where Camp David is. It's a national park. I've been fishing there. Nice place. Lots of hardwood, some pine. Broke a good bamboo fly rod out there. Should have taken my little three-weight rod for the stream I was fishing, but I was in a hurry."

Rachel turned toward me in her seat. "What did Kathryn say?"

"WorldCopter's sure they're going to be the sacrificial goat. Too easy a target. They want legal advice from the first minute, at the scene."