Джордан Шор - The Search

“Somehow I doubt that’s true.”

“No, I’m serious, I can hardly notice you back there,” Jack said. “Feels like I’m carrying a backpack.”

“Well, I have been dieting for the past week.”

“How to Lose Weight by Not Eating Worms,” Jack said laughing.

“That’s a better title. I give you that.”

“You’ll have to eat eventually,” Jack said. “It’ll be at least another week before we reach the ocean.”

“A week sounds fine,” Julie said. “I just wanna go home.”

Jack took a few breaths. “I’ll get you home. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’ll get you home to your boy no matter what.”

Friday morning

As George Stanton looked across the office landscape, he noticed that the loud, buzzing noise of multiple conversations was no longer present. People seemed more at ease with the situation and didn’t rush around as much anymore. If anything, people seemed to have stopped working and instead were watching the news.

The ECC, Cayla Marsh, had been doing her best to keep the rest of the crisis team updated, but she had no new developments to report. The Emergency Location Transmitter still wasn’t providing a signal, and the Canadian authorities hadn’t managed to locate the missing plane. Security director Cliff Henderson seemed to enjoy talking to his former colleagues and friends at different branches of US law enforcement, but his efforts all appeared to be a complete waste of time.

George, on the other hand, wasted the days updating press releases. He produced more or less the same sentimental dribble as in his previous press announcements, except he made sure to move a few words around to give the illusion of working and producing fresh news. CEO Michael Williams had spent all day in the presence of a substantial number of lawyers and insurance representatives, which made George wonder if someone had already filed a lawsuit against the airline.

In his small (but also windowed) office across the floor, George noticed how Mike was finally alone in his domain, and how he kept staring at a particular document on his desk. George thought his boss had a look of defeat on his face. Suddenly, it occurred to him that perhaps the company was filing for bankruptcy, and that was the reason for the meeting with legal representatives earlier this day, and it might also explain the long meeting the day before with a few large shareholders.

George lingered on his way to Mike’s office where he gently tapped on the open door. “I’ve written a new statement. I thought I’d run it by you before I update the website.”

The CEO seemed surprised by the unusual gesture.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Mike said.

Yes, it’s just the same usual nonsense .

George glanced at the paper sheet lying between Mike’s elbows. He was curious as to what it said, but he struggled to find an appropriate way of asking.

“Any new development?” he asked hesitantly.

Mike obviously understood George’s intentions, as he glanced down at the sheet before he gestured to George to close the door and sit down. Then the CEO returned his focus to the sheet of paper on his desk. George thought his boss didn’t look like the handsome man from the week before. This man appeared to have aged at least a decade since then, and the black suit he wore brought out the gray color of his hair.

George began to wonder if his boss had developed gray hair within the past week, or if the gray suit he wore the previous week had disguised the true color of his hair. Either way, George now thought, the man appeared to be in his sixties, rather than his fifties.

As George sat, he began to feel uneasy when he realized his own choice of clothing might be interpreted as inappropriate. He wore a casual, light-blue blazer and a white shirt. His boss, on the other hand, looked as if he was about to attend a funeral.

George waited patiently, but the man sitting across from him didn’t speak; instead, Mike Williams kept staring at the paper. Once again, George thought of bankruptcy, and for some reason he immediately thought of Trisha Boyle and her ability to support her son.

“What do you have there, Mike?”

“Are you aware employees get discount tickets for families and relatives?”

George first thought was that he’d somehow abused the program. But he quickly dismissed the thought since he hardly had any family or friends.

“Yes , ” he agreed.

“Sharon Stone had a discount ticket.”

George felt as if his boss had sucker-punched him. His gut suddenly ached.

So much for this just being a coincidence , he thought.

“Captain Daniels got his ex-wife the ticket?” George asked in disbelief.

Michael Williams nodded. “And it gets worse.”

How could this possibly get any worse?

“Did Daniels pay for the ticket, or did she?”

The CEO looked surprised by his question. “He must have paid for the ticket in order for her to get the discount,” Mike said. “But that’s not the worst part.”

“How could this possibly get any worse, Mike?”

“He got her two tickets,” Mike said, and sighed. “One for her, and one for the man seated next to her.”

“The guy she replaced him with?”

“It might appear so,” Mike said.

“Did he know who the other ticket was for?”

“I don’t have that information. Why do you ask?”

“If he didn’t know who she was traveling with, then perhaps he didn’t plan for this to happen. Perhaps he left the cockpit to say hello, and then had an emotional meltdown as he realized who she was traveling with.”

“Is that somehow preferable?” his boss asked.

“Then it’s not premeditated,” George said, and realized such a circumstance wasn’t much better.

George also realized he’d heard no mention in the media regarding Captain Daniels’ possible murder of his ex-wife and her partner—not to mention the rest of the passengers.

“Did you share this information with the authorities?” he asked cautiously.

“I most certainly did,” Mike affirmed. “But the feds didn’t seem very interested. However, they did tell me not to interfere with the investigation.”

“Well, they can’t prohibit us from visiting the emergency contacts of our employees,” George said. “And the reason they’re not that interested is probably because they’re working the terror angle. People usually seek out information corresponding with their own feelings.”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked.

“It feels better to fear terrorists rather than fearing pilots,” he said, and shrugged. “Did you hear about the Imam who was on the plane? He who wanted to introduce Sharia law into the American legal system.”

George just realized how stupid his question was, given that the Imam had been the media’s focus all week.

Mike looked uncomfortable, but eventually nodded in response.

“That text message from the stewardess makes a big difference,” George added. “In many ways, it exonerates us.”

“About that… that text message doesn’t make any sense,” Mike said.

“It indicates the pilots were murdered, and therefore people assume it’s terror—”

“I understand that part,” Mike said, cutting him off. “But if in fact Captain Daniels crashed the plane on purpose, then that text message doesn’t make any sense. Elisabeth McAllister claimed both pilots had died. How could she possibly have known that?”

“She couldn’t.” George paused for a few seconds as he liked to do to add more drama. “The only way she could’ve known for certain the pilots had died is if she was in the cockpit at the time. And if so, I imagine she would’ve used the radio instead of her cell phone. I don’t believe she was in the cockpit.” He shook his head to emphasize his point.