Джордан Шор - The Search

Jack looked confused, and seemed puzzled by Agent Smith’s question.

“Either way, you are going to prison,” Smith said in, a diplomatic tone. “The only question is on what side of the boarder.”

“I want an attorney.”

“I told you, this is a debriefing. You can’t have an attorney present.”

“In that case, we’re done.” Jack rose.

“Sit down,” Smith said in a tone of authority.

“No, we’re done.” Jack seemed about to leave the table.

“Wait! I want to show you something.”

Agent Smith quickly grabbed the web tablet, and swiped the screen several times before he placed the tablet on the table for Jack to see.

“Remember him?”

Jack remained standing and briefly glanced at the screen. “He was dead when we found him.”

Agent Smith appeared to be studying Jack’s facial expression. “I’m sure he was, but why did you tried to conceal his body?”

“What are you talking about?” Jack looked confused. “I told you where to find his body. And the ring was in his pants pocket.”

“That’s not Andrew Townsend,” Smith said.

Jack looked at the screen once more, and then he sat down, and kept staring at the screen with wide eyes. On the screen was a picture of the back of a man’s head with blood running down his neck, coloring the collar of his white shirt red. The man appeared to be wearing a black jacket. He was on his stomach, his face against the forest ground.

“Is this from the crash site?” Jack asked.

“Do you recognize him?”

“No,” Jack responded. “Is this from the crash site?”

Agent Smith swiped the screen once. “How about now? Do you recognize him now?”

Jack barely glanced at the screen, and at the profile picture of a man smiling. Then his posture changed, and he kept staring at Agent Smith with wide eyes.

“Where did you find him?” Jack asked.

“So, you do recognize him?”

“Yes,” Jack answered, and swallowed hard. “Now I do.”

“When did you last see him?”

“I saw him board the plane.”

“But you haven’t seen him since?”

Jack frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

“But you know who he is?”

Jack nodded.

“Well, who is he, then?” Smith asked.

“Well…” Jack’s voice trembled. “He’s the pilot, am I right?”

“That’s right, Jack.” Smith nodded. “He’s the pilot.”

“Where did you find him?”

Agent Smith appeared to be studying Jack’s face. Then, suddenly, he relaxed, looking more at ease. “Not far from the SOS sign. A hundred yards south.”

“But you asked me if I saw that man storm the cockpit,” Jack said. “If that man killed the pilots, and crashed the plane, then how could the pilot end up in the woods? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it makes perfect sense. I’ll walk you through it,” Smith said casually. “The Imam stormed the cockpit as the pilots opened the door to let the stewardess in. Then the Imam killed the pilots, or at least he thought he did, leaving the stewardess trapped in the cockpit along with the Imam. Maybe the Imam thought she was dead—I don’t know. Either way, she managed to send a short text message to her husband, where she was pleading for help and claiming both pilots were dead. But just before the plane was set to collide with the mountain, the pilot woke up and saw the mountain ahead, therefore diverted the plane into the lake.”

Jack looked suspiciously at Agent Smith.

“The Imam wasn’t wearing a seat belt and neither was the stewardess, so neither of them survived the crash. The pilot, however, survived the crash, and then opened the door to the cockpit before he swam to shore. But he died during the first night due to the injuries he sustained from fighting the Imam. Then, when the plane was full of water, the remains of both the Imam and the stewardess floated out of the cockpit and into the air cabin.”

“But why would the Imam fly the plane halfway across Canada only to crash it.”

“Well, I’m not a pilot. Obviously.” Smith chuckled. “But it has come to my attention, crashing an airplane isn’t necessarily as easy as it sounds. If the plane functions properly, that is. You need pilot training in order to crash a plane, and as far as we can tell, the Imam didn’t have any training. However, changing the intended destination on an aircraft doesn’t require the same level of skill. So, we think the Imam simply changed the destination, and just waited for the plane to run out of fuel.”

“Doesn’t the cockpit record sound?”

“It sure does, and it’s all over the Internet,” Smith said, and shook his head. “You could hear how the pilots discussed how bad the coffee tasted, and then shortly after comes the sound of a commotion and sounds of kicking and gagging. We think that’s when the Imam made his move. When the stewardess brought the pilots some fresh coffee, but just before the plane crashed, you can hear sounds of a fight in the cockpit. That’s when the pilot must have woken up, and fought the Imam. But before that, you could actually hear crew members banging on the cockpit door, and pleading for him to open up.”

“You got that information off the internet, you say?” Jack asked.

“Yes, can you believe that?” Smith shook his head. “Everything is on the Web. There’re no such things as secrets these days, and nothing’s sacred anymore.”

“I’m sure,” Jack said with a stiff smile. “But I find it a bit peculiar no one told you. It sounds as if your employer doesn’t trust you with certain information.”

“It’s not like that. I just have a different assignment,” Smith responded. “You see, I’m not here to investigate the actual crash. I’m here for a different reason. A lot of dead bodies are scattered across these woods. Wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re out of your jurisdiction,” Jack said. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“It’s Canada, Jack,” Smith responded. “We’re all working together to resolve this mess. I would suggest you do the same.”

Jack’s eyes started to wander.

“Besides, it’s pretty obvious what happened to the plane. The only thing that doesn’t make any sense is why someone would try to conceal the body of the pilot…”

Agent Smith’s face suddenly changed, and he looked more at ease again.

“Or was it perhaps some sort of funeral act? Out of respect for the pilot?” Smith asked enthusiastically. “What do you say, Jack?”

Jack raised his left eyebrow. “What do you want me to say?”

“All I want is the truth.”

“I never saw the pilot,” Jack replied. “And I don’t think anyone else did either, or they would have mentioned it.”

Agent Smith looked disappointed.

“Did I get it wrong?” Jack raised his left eyebrow once more. “Wait a minute, how was the body concealed?”

“The body was covered with pine tree branches.” Smith looked at ease, but didn’t smile. “Like a little tent. Impossible for a human eye to notice. But the dogs had no trouble finding it.”

“We did that every night.”

Agent Smith shrugged his entire face, although he didn’t look very surprised.

“We covered ourselves with pine tree branches to keep the cold out,” Jack added. “The pilot must have been disoriented and confused after the crash. So he lay down and covered himself with branches to stay warm, but then he died during the night.”

“That actually makes sense. Thank you for clearing that up, Jack,” Smith said in a tone which sounded monotonous and well-rehearsed.

Agent Smith looked at Jack and nodded as if he was suggesting he was both proud and pleased with Jack’s behavior.

“See what happens when we share information with each other. We find answers. Then we can help each other out. There’s no need to be hostile to one another.”