Rick Mofina - Free Fall

Full of holes, like Swiss cheese. I’ve seen gaming systems that were better designed.

A notification alert sounded on two of his laptops. The distinct tone signaled that a Kate Page story had just been posted online. Seth glanced at Veyda. The alert would override her music. He began reading:

A potential puzzle piece has emerged in the mystery surrounding the horrific crash of a jetliner at London’s Heathrow airport and the near-tragic incident experienced by a New York-bound commuter plane.

Seth continued reading then shot Veyda another glance; she’d pulled out her earphones and was digesting the story. When he came to the first reference to Zarathustra he said, “There it is, babe.”

Veyda’s face lit up with the beginnings of a smile that soon vanished. “What’s this?” She repeated parts of the story aloud.

“‘It’s not possible to hack into a system and take remote control of a commercial airliner.’ Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! Fifteen corpses in London say otherwise!”

“I don’t get it,” Seth said.

“And listen. ‘In the end you’ll find the boasts and wild claims made in the cryptic messages stem from a troubled and fantasy-driven mind. It’s a sad fact that disturbed individuals who have such delusions create this sort of widespread, groundless fear.’”

Veyda clenched her jaw and lifted her head to the ceiling.

“This is so insulting, Seth. Kate Page held so much promise. This is not what we instructed her to do!”

Seth took a moment and read the story a second time.

“I’m concerned,” he said. “There’s something about the article, a subtext at play.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t help thinking that there’s more to this story, that maybe they’re getting close to us.”

“No. If they were close, a SWAT team would be kicking down the door. They’re clueless, Seth. Remember, we’re dealing with the unevolved, linear thinking of ordinary people. As extraordinary people, we have the authority to punish Kate Page.”

“What do you want to do?” Seth’s keyboard clicked as he worked. “We could steal her identity, drain her bank account, create a blood test with traces of heroin and cocaine and send it to her employer anonymously. We could anonymously report her to police for child abuse.”

Veyda gave his options a moment of consideration.

“They’re good but rather mundane. They lack artistry. What I’m thinking of is bigger. We have to make an example of her.”

Veyda concentrated on her laptop, shaking her head bitterly.

“Those worms. They have the audacity to say I have a fantasy-driven mind, that I’m delusional. Don’t they know that we’re extraordinary people, that we’re elevating humankind? They owe us reverence!”

Veyda made a few keystrokes and their hundred-inch flat-screen TV came to life, displaying footage of the fiery Heathrow crash, then screaming passengers being tossed about on the EastCloud flight.

“We’ll show them something the world will never forget.”

Manhattan, New York

The infectious rhythm of Peruvian music kept time with the slap of skipping rope in Washington Square Park where Grace jumped double Dutch with street performers near the fountain.

As the music and ropes went faster, Kate and Vanessa cheered Grace on from a bench nearby. She kept pace until a misstep entangled her in the ropes, but the performers invited her to try again and as they resumed, Kate checked her phone.

It was Saturday, the day after Kate’s story on Zarathustra had run. Kate and Vanessa both had days off. They’d taken Grace shopping in Greenwich Village before coming to the park.

But Kate’s mind was on the response to her story- Will it lead us to Zarathustra and the validity of the claim of hijacking jetliners?

She hadn’t dismissed Zarathustra’s threat to her family, implied in the “we know where you live” line. While they no longer had Agent Hank Bradley staying with them, Kate and Vanessa were vigilant, keeping an eye on Grace and the nearest cop.

Everything was fine, under the circumstances.

On the response, Newslead had, so far, received about twenty emails or calls from readers offering advice. One reader offered her services as a “spiritual guide.” Some callers had claimed to know Zarathustra, but then provided vague or useless information. I think it’s the cabdriver I had once, he was always quoting Nietzsche. Or It’s a guy I met in a bar. He was talking about how we need to take down the government.

Those were the responses for Kate.

As for the FBI, Varner had told her that in two instances, callers had claimed to be Zarathustra but had been unable to provide accurate information on the unpublished content of the email.

Kate was preparing to send Erich a message when Grace finished skipping. Kate gave her a five-dollar bill to drop in the performers’ hat.

“Let’s get a drink.” Vanessa pointed to the nearest hot dog cart.

As they sipped their sodas on the grass in the shade of a maple tree, Kate’s phone rang.

“Hi, Kate. It’s Todd,” the news assistant said. “I know you’re off, but Chuck said to alert you if a reader called with something important.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I got this guy on the line. It’s the third time he’s called in an hour. He insists on talking to you directly, says he’s got information that he wants to share with you.”

“What kind of information?”

“He wouldn’t say, only that it was critical.”

“Did he give you his name, or his connection to the story?”

“No, nothing, and he refused to leave a message.”

“Did he sound credible, or certifiable, Todd?”

“Hard to tell.”

“Yeah, that’s often the case. Okay, put him through.”

“I’ll connect him to you. Hang on.”

While she waited, Kate turned to Grace and Vanessa.

“I have to take this. I’m sorry. Think about where we could go for lunch later.”

Kate stood and walked a few feet away when her phone clicked.

“Hello?” a man said. “Is this Kate Page?”

“Yes.”

“I saw you on CTNB with Reese Baker talking about the president’s promise of technology to land passenger jets by remote control.”

“Yes. First can I get your name?”

Silence.

The caller ID displayed the newsroom switchboard number because the call was bounced to Kate’s phone.

“I’d like to know who I’m talking to.”

“I don’t want to say right now. First, I need to know if you protect sources.”

“Yes, we do. I understand you have information?”

“On CTNB, you discussed the technology and debated its existence and use in the wake of 9/11?”

“Right.”

“Are you aware of Project Overlord?”

“No. Hold on a sec.” Kate muted her phone and got Vanessa to search Project Overlord. It came up as some sort of video game. Kate rolled her eyes. “Is it something to do with video game programs?”

“No. It’s a top secret government project to develop the technology to land hijacked commercial jets by remote control. Overlord is what the president promised.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Listen, I was not, and am not, involved, okay?”

The way his voice grew nervous caused a shift in Kate’s attitude.

“Involved in what?”

“Overlord.”

“Okay.”

“I was a contractor for various national security projects. I have a lot of friends in the business.”

“Would one be named Erich?”

“No.”

“How about Viper?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You say you were a contractor on national security projects. What’re you doing now?”