Rick Mofina - Free Fall

“I don’t know them,” he said.

“Can you tell us where Robert Cole is?”

“He lives in North Dakota.”

“Do you know his location at this moment?”

“No.”

“You say you worked with him. When did you last see him?”

“At his wife’s funeral. That was a long while ago.”

“When did you last speak to him?”

“About four or five months ago.”

“By phone or email?”

“Over the phone.”

“What was the nature of the conversation?”

“How he was doing. He also offered his insights into investigations. After that, he called and offered his views on every ongoing aircraft investigation we had going. He was drinking heavily and not coping well. It got so I didn’t respond. I felt bad. He left me messages in the wake of the incidents with the EastCloud and Shikra flights.”

“What did they concern?”

“I don’t know. His last one was a voice message. He was drunk, incoherent. I deleted it. It was tragic because he was a brilliant engineer and he ended up a broken man. I think he called to offer help because he wants to redeem himself for the guilt he carries for his wife’s death.”

“Do you think he’s capable of remotely interfering with commercial aircraft, like the flights in this case?”

“Yes and no.”

“Explain that.”

“He helped design Richlon-Titan’s fly-by-wire system and he worked on Project Overlord, the technology promised by the president after 9/11. You know about Overlord, right?”

The agents nodded.

“Well, if anyone would know how to attack a jetliner’s controls remotely, Robert Cole would. So yes, he has the expertise. But I don’t believe he has it in his heart to commit such an act, even with his personal problems. The man I knew was dedicated to safety.”

The FBI agents exchanged a look then tapped Veyda’s photo.

“What about his daughter? MIT told us she has one of the highest IQs in the country. She was studying flight systems engineering. Is she capable? What’s the meaning of Robert Cole’s video plea to her?”

Hooper looked at Veyda’s embittered expression. Her eyes were pools of sadness and rage.

“I don’t know.”

“Mr. Hooper, we want you to alert us should Robert Cole, or Veyda, or Seth Hagen, contact you.”

“I will.”

“As a precaution, we’re going to execute warrants on your phone and all devices to monitor them.”

After his interview, Hooper left the room and passed Bill Cashill’s office. The door was open and the man invited him in.

Cashill stared at his computer monitor, his face ashen.

“You just spoke to the FBI?” Cashill asked, keeping his eyes on his screen.

“Yes. Did you talk to them?”

Cashill nodded without looking at Hooper: “So you’re vindicated, Jake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was looking at conventional causes in both flights. I focused on them because of my years in the business. I’m a linear thinker. I wasn’t open-minded enough to even consider the possibility of a remote cyber breach of both planes. You were. For me it was out of the realm of possibility.”

Hooper stepped in and closed the door.

“Bill, no one in the world could’ve suspected Cole, his daughter and this other suspect, whoever he is-”

“Boyfriend, according to the FBI agents who questioned me. Seth Hagen’s her boyfriend, and some sort of computer wizard, too. The three of them are good if they’re able to override the system. I mean, they just left us in the dust, except for you.”

“Bill, we should urge Richlon-Titan to ground everything with an RT system now. We should issue an alert, get the FAA to put out an airworthiness directive.”

Cashill dragged his hands over his face.

“I’ve been yanked off the EastCloud and Shikra investigations.”

“What?”

“People are protecting themselves. This is moving fast up the chain. Reed Devlin’s taking over as the IIC. He’s with the chairman and the board right now. The chairman will take part in a national security meeting with the White House, the Joint Chiefs and the whole gang later today to assess the situation and give direction on the response to it.”

Hooper leaned back and his shoulders thudded against the door. His mind raced with regret at not responding to Robert Cole’s messages.

Could all of this, the deaths, the danger and the fear, have been prevented if I’d talked to Cole when he called me?

Rockville, Maryland

That morning, the man next to Robert Cole in the communal shower ranted Scripture as he coughed and wheezed.

Cole didn’t mind.

After he toweled off and found a free sink and mirror to shave, he considered the line of prayer from Saint Francis taped to the rust-stained wall: “It is in dying that we are born into eternal life.”

There’s wisdom in those words, Cole thought as he reflected on the reasons he’d chosen to stay in a homeless shelter near Washington, DC.

Yes, he believed that if police were looking for him, he’d stand a better chance of evading them if he stayed at a shelter.

But it was more than that.

He needed to get closer to the truth of what he’d become: a wretched failure and a waste. If he was going to be resurrected and redeemed, he needed to bury himself.

The night staff had asked no questions when Cole had arrived requesting to stay at the shelter, which was an abandoned school. They’d accepted his cash donation, given him a piece of paper with the rules then escorted him, via a flashlight beam on the floor, to a lower bunk in the gym where dozens of other men had been snoring.

Cole was grateful, for he felt that he was undeserving.

Now he dressed in his best shirt, tie and suit.

One of the staff, a woman named Polly, was generous in letting him use one of the shelter’s phones to check his number for any response from Veyda to his video.

There was nothing.

His heart sank.

He collected his briefcase and made his way to the Rockville station of the Washington Metro, blending in with other commuters.

He was destined for the NTSB headquarters to see Jake Hooper.

I’ll see him and I’ll show him what we need to do, if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.

Washington, DC

The president sat at the center of the mahogany table, back to the Rose Garden, facing the vice president and other officials who’d been called to the Cabinet Room.

Eighteen people, including cabinet secretaries, members of the National Security Council, Defense, FBI, Homeland, FAA, CIA and NTSB were at the table, while two dozen other experts flanked the walls.

The Zarathustra situation was allotted thirty minutes on the White House agenda for assessment and action.

The meeting began with the president giving the FBI director five minutes to brief the table. The heads of the FAA and NTSB were each given three minutes. The president then opened the discussion, starting with the transportation secretary.

“Given the situation, we recommend a national ground stop followed by a global ground stop,” the secretary said.

“You want to ground all flights?” the commerce secretary asked.

“Yes, we believe that’s the prudent step to take.”

“I think under the circumstances it’s an overreaction,” the commerce secretary said.

“It’s the best safety measure,” the transportation secretary said.

“Yes, of course, but that hasn’t been done since 9/11. And with 9/11 we were under attack,” the commerce secretary said. “The economic impact of a ground stop today would be devastating, and I don’t need to remind this table how fragile economies are in some parts of the world now. We must consider other options.”