Kaitlin laughed. The bell tinkled as she opened the door.
‘This person who was important to Conor. You must talk to them.’ Mia was shouting now.
‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
‘I don’t need to tell you, Kaitlin. You already know. I think you just needed to hear it.’
As Kaitlin stepped out into the chill, she heard the scrape of a chair and feet pattering towards her. She half turned and saw Mia holding something out.
‘Here, take my card.’
‘I won’t be needing it.’
‘Trust me. You will. You will be back.’
9
As she walked away from the store, Kaitlin wrestled with her thoughts. Under the sodium glare of a street light, she punched the keys of her burner and listened to the other end ringing out.
The self-styled psychic witch was a fake, Kaitlin had no doubt about that. And yet Mia’s words still played out in her head. Everything the self-professed psychic had said about Conor and Thomas struck so close to those deep-seated feelings of personal guilt. Even so, why was she allowing herself to be sucked in?
The voicemail clicked to life:
Hello, you’ve reached Thomas. Leave me a message and I’ll call back when I can. Cheers.
Conor had loved Thomas. Why didn’t Thomas care enough to respond to Kaitlin’s calls? She had tried him repeatedly since the news of the plane going missing, but to no avail.
Kaitlin felt her hand trembling as she pressed the cell to her ear.
Thomas, I know you’re probably sick of me leaving messages and I guess, as you haven’t returned a single call, that I’m the last person you want to talk to, but I need to speak to you. About Conor. He told me something before – I think it may have something to do with … Just call me back. Please.
Kaitlin hung up.
Please, God, let me be wrong.
Kaitlin pushed her head down, trying to quiet her raging thoughts as she trudged towards the East Village. A couple of blocks had passed when a blue sedan rolled up beside her. A woman with a brown bob and thin lips, dressed in a dark suit, climbed out and thrust a badge towards Kaitlin.
‘I’m Agent Gerard and I’m with the FBI. We need to talk.’
Kaitlin’s heart hammered. She felt the urge to run, but she knew it would be futile.
‘That’s Agent Hoxley behind the wheel. Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t say much. I’m the one you need to pay attention to.’
‘W-what is this?’ Kaitlin stuttered.
‘Kaitlin Le, right? I need to ask you some questions.’ Agent Gerard fixed her piercing blue eyes on Kaitlin.
‘I haven’t broken any laws,’ Kaitlin babbled.
Inwardly, she was cursing herself for being so stupid. Dylan had warned her about taking care. Instead, she’d been too thoughtless, she could see that now, too impatient to find the answers she needed. And now she was likely to pay for it.
‘Relax. You’re not in any trouble,’ Gerard said.
Kaitlin pushed her Jets cap back, trying to seem more defiant than she felt. ‘Do you really have an agent tailing everyone involved with 702?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘That guy in the diner?’ she said, recalling the man who had freaked out Dolores. ‘And I saw him outside my apartment, too. He has a nice little collection of brightly coloured jackets.’
Agent Gerard cocked an eyebrow. ‘We haven’t been watching you. If you’ll forgive me for saying, but you’re sounding a little paranoid. I’m part of the team working on the ongoing investigation.’
‘What ongoing investigation?’ Kaitlin replied, baffled. ‘I thought the FBI had everything sewn up?’
‘It’s still an open case. No wreckage. And that means it’s a complex investigation.’
Kaitlin felt her head swim. The authorities were still looking into 702? Why didn’t she know this? Why didn’t Dylan?
‘What do you mean, complex?’
Kaitlin felt a deep cold settle on her before she heard the agent’s words, almost as if she knew what she was going to say.
‘You need to come with me.’ Gerard swung open the car door. ‘This is about your brother, Conor.’
The Jakob J. Javits Federal Building towered over Foley Square. Only two floors of windows blazed at that hour and they housed the FBI New York field office. Kaitlin trailed from the elevator between the two agents, trying to appear composed. Soon she was sitting opposite Agent Gerard in a bare interview room under a fizzing strip light. Agent Hoxley stood in one corner, observing.
Once Gerard had finished recording the date, location and interview subject in the microphone, Kaitlin asked, ‘So why am I here?’
‘Your brother, Conor. You were close to him, right?’
‘We’re twins. We were twins.’
Gerard was nonchalant, but Kaitlin wasn’t going to fall for that. There was a game being played here.
‘What was he doing in London?’
‘He lived there. I mean, he worked there. You guys know everything about him. You know everything about all of the passengers who were on that flight. You investigated them all, the media investigated them.’
‘Let’s go back to the beginning.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘He worked in cybersecurity.’
‘Yeah, he did.’
‘Did you know he was under investigation?’
Kaitlin flinched. She couldn’t hide that, but maybe it played in her favour. If Gerard could see her honest shock, it wouldn’t seem like she was involved.
‘No. What for?’
‘The police raided his apartment in London the week before the flight. They took his computer. Looks like he was involved with some pretty dangerous people. Embezzlement, malware—’
‘You have it wrong. He was the one who stopped the malware.’
‘Did he?’
‘He was in all the newspapers. He was a hero! It could have been devastating and he found the kill switch.’
Gerard smiled. ‘I wonder how he knew about it.’
‘It was his job to know. He was a cybersecurity expert.’
‘Maybe that was just to cover his tracks.’
‘Cover? For what? Why would he be …’ Her voice trailed off. She could feel her heart starting to thump. ‘You think … You think he had something to do with the plane going down?’
‘Conor was involved with creating software that could hack into a plane’s controls.’
Kaitlin felt a pang of horror. That couldn’t be true. Could it? After their final argument, she’d wondered what else he might be prepared to do. She’d worried – and she’d pushed it all aside. But no, Conor would never do something like this.
She shook her head. ‘What the hell are you talking about? He was on the flight. Even if – even if it were possible, why would he do that?’
‘Do you know Thomas Rider?’
‘Yeah, he’s – well, he was Conor’s boyfriend.’
‘Have you ever met him?’
‘Once. They both came over last summer to see our parents. And that’s it.’
‘Are you currently in contact with him?’
‘Not currently. I wrote him a letter over the summer and he wrote me one back.’
‘Did Conor or Mr Rider ever ask you to deliver anything for them, or to contact anybody?’
‘No, they didn’t. Why don’t you just talk to him?’
‘He doesn’t want to co-operate. He’s not American, so we don’t have any jurisdiction. Really more MI5’s area. Or maybe the Federal Security Service’s in Russia.’
‘The Russians?’ Kaitlin said with incredulity. Was the agent just trying to get a rise out of her?
‘Your brother never talked to you about these things?’
‘I don’t hear any “things”. Just allegations.’
‘We know you’re doing your own investigation’—Gerard shrugged, her tone becoming dismissive—‘or whatever you like to call them, into what happened
to that plane. That’s your right. But let me give you some advice: don’t get mixed up in this.’
Kaitlin rolled her eyes. ‘What, exactly, should I not be getting mixed up in?’
‘Money laundering, cybercrime, electoral fraud. We have reason to believe that your brother was involved with a Russian syndicate.’
‘And what reason do you have to believe that?’ Kaitlin demanded.
Ignoring her question, Gerard stood. ‘A warning. These people don’t play games.’ She handed over her card. ‘If you hear from Thomas, it’s in your interest to call me.’
Agent Hoxley swung open the door.
‘You’re free to go, Kaitlin,’ Gerard said.
Outside, Kaitlin bent into the chill breeze as she hurried downtown. Her eyes darting for any sign that she was being watched, she pulled out her burner once more.
Once Thomas’ voicemail had played, she said:
Hey, Thomas, it’s Kaitlin again. I’m sorry I keep calling, but I just really need to talk to you. It’s important. Even more than it was before. Call me back.
Hearing Thomas’ English accent in his answerphone message brought back a rush of memories. For a moment she was back in that low-rent bar, breathing in the aroma of stale beer and surrounded by the strains of some country ballad. There was Conor, smiling shyly, as he guided in this tall, good-looking Brit with pale skin, blue eyes and a shock of blond hair. It was the first time she’d met Thomas, but they hit it off in no time, laughing over beers as if they’d been friends for ever.
Conor had made a great choice and she could see from the affection gleaming in her brother’s eyes how much this guy with his dry wit meant to him. How she ached for those times.
Maybe she was being stupid to try to make contact after that brush with the Feds. But now a whole new batch of questions was burning in her head and there would be no peace until she knew the truth about her brother.
What was Conor really capable of?
Kaitlin jumped three different subway trains, adding an extra fifty minutes to her journey. She’d specifically set off in the morning rush, hoping she could lose herself in the crowds, choking on the reek of sweat and fresh aftershave in the packed cars. Paranoia was eating away at her. She’d barely slept a wink and in the end, she’d called Amelia just to hear a friendly voice. Amelia was concerned, firing questions until she was certain Kaitlin was all right.
Even that brief moment of normality did little to calm the torrent of disturbing thoughts rushing through her head. She felt haunted by the accusations Gerard had made. When the agent had spoken about Conor and his life, Kaitlin couldn’t escape the feeling that she was hearing about a stranger. She and Conor had always been so close, knowing each other’s thoughts, finishing each other’s sentences. Could it really be possible that she didn’t know her twin brother at all?
The financial district swelled with too many suits and she looked more out of place even than the tourists taking snaps of the New York Stock Exchange. Soon, though, she was hurrying away from the sights and into the sprawl of functional blocks that provided the life-support system for the moneymakers.
After a short wait in the fifth-floor reception of Munio Inc. – a start-up that her research had told her was making waves – her contact swept out to greet her with a grin and a cheery wave. He looked barely older than her, close-cropped hair, dressed casually.
Once they’d settled into an office, Kaitlin slid her phone across the table and said, ‘We’re recording. Do you want to tell me your name and what you do?’
‘Oh, OK,’ he replied, unfazed. ‘I’m Sam Haddad, cybersecurity specialist.’
‘My brother used to work in your field. Kind of.’
‘I was going to ask! Conor Le, right?’ Sam gushed.
Kaitlin nodded.
‘Wow. He was something special, wasn’t he?’
‘Yeah. He was.’
Sam winced. ‘Sorry. I always speak before I think. It really was awful, what happened. A tragedy, really. I had a lot of respect for him, what with preventing the Koschei malware attack and everything.’
Kaitlin forced a smile, but she wasn’t in the mood for small talk. ‘Look, anyway, sorry, my questions are just about planes. Do you think it would be possible to hack into a plane’s controls?’
‘A few years ago, someone did manage to hack into the ground control system at … I think it was Paris, but Air Traffic Control figured out what was going on almost immediately. And since then, they’ve really closed the loopholes.’
‘But it could be done?’
‘Possibly. But very unlikely. Actually, no. I’d say it’s impossible. There are too many safeguards in place.’
Kaitlin felt a wave of relief and picked up her phone. ‘That’s great, thank you.’
‘But you could hack a plane from inside the aircraft,’ Sam noted.
Kaitlin lowered herself back down.
‘Wanna guess how?’ Sam grinned, clearly in his element. ‘The in-flight entertainment system. People want to do more and more through the in-flight entertainment and that makes it a potential security risk.’
Kaitlin slid the phone back. ‘Go on.’
‘You could get tons of information that way. Names, credit card numbers …’
‘Could you hack the controls?’
‘Like the cockpit controls? It would be harder.’ Sam stared into the middle distance, thinking. ‘If you’re trying to make the autopilot do something, it could be easily overridden by the pilot.’
‘But it’s possible, right? It could be done?’
‘Sure. There have been a few papers on this. Definitely something the airlines are looking into.’
Sam pushed his hands behind his head and leaned back. He was enjoying the conversation.
Kaitlin felt like she was about to be sick.
‘I mean, let’s not go overboard. I’d say a hack of the in-flight entertainment system would cause a minor disturbance, at best. The hackers could spoof flight information, map routes, maybe, or speed statistics, altitude values, that kind of thing. But if what you’re asking is …’ He leaned forwards, growing awkward now he could see where this was going. ‘It wouldn’t be a very effective way to … You know … If someone wanted to …’
‘To bring the plane down.’
‘Right.’ Sam eyed her. ‘You don’t think your brother—’
‘No. No, of course not. He wouldn’t. But, I don’t know, he could have been trying to do something else. Maybe.’
‘Like, maybe he was trying to help. Like, if there was something else going on.’
Kaitlin locked eyes with Sam for a long moment and she watched that familiar pity rise up.
‘I don’t think this is what did it,’ he said in a gentle voice. ‘And I’m sorry if I’ve been insensitive about this, or awkward. I get excited about things. Probably too much. Even my wife says I’m a nerd, and she’s an accountant.’
‘It’s fine. And thank you for your time.’
As she walked back to the elevator, Kaitlin tried to feel reassured by Sam’s final words. But why was Conor even on that flight?
Why hadn’t he let her know he was coming home?
Kaitlin kicked through the golden leaves in Tompkins Square Park as she spoke to Dylan. She’d started to worry that maybe her apartment was bugged.
‘I’m totally freaked out. What if Conor did have something to do with it?’ She glanced around, scrutinising the couple making out on the bench. ‘I mean, the FBI certainly seems to think so. And now they’re trying to get Thomas. And he won’t even return my phone calls and now I learn Thomas has Russian friends. I just … I want to know what he and Conor were doing.’
‘You really think the Russians could have been involved?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more. Yeah, if they had sketchy Russian hacker friends.’ She sighed. ‘It’s just that I feel more alone than ever. With Conor gone, I have no one.’
‘You have me.’
‘
Right. I don’t even know your real name.’
‘Mir tesen.’
‘What?’
‘“Small world” in Russian. Literally translates to “the world is crowded”.’
‘You’re not helping, Dylan.’
‘Back in ancient history, there was a lot of hope that the online world would bring everyone together. Beyond nations and cultures. Cyberspace as a global village.’
‘Conor used to talk about cyber-utopianism all the time. He was so passionate about it. He was part of this group – the Elysians? All about uniting the world. I used to tease him. How could people still believe that was possible? But Conor always was an idealist.’
Kaitlin watched the whorls of leaves in the fall breeze. She’d been so close to Conor. But how much did she really know about him?
That night, she lay in the dark, unable to sleep again. It seemed to have become a regular thing, her mind running away with itself, chasing answers and turning over thoughts that only got darker the deeper into the night she went.
She missed her old life so much, the mundane things as much as anything. She yearned for college, even those long, boring lectures where she had to fight to keep her eyes open in the sticky warmth of a late summer afternoon, still fighting the after-effects of one too many drinks at a frat party.
That feeling of her intellect being challenged had felt so good after so long feeling stuck in high school. She missed the rapid back and forth in class with clever people, all the wild new ideas she’d taken in, firing her up and driving her to want to learn more and more.
Now, all that was gone. These days, her brain felt like it was sinking down in a swamp most of the time.
In the darkest of moments, she wondered if she’d lost her future completely. Had she traded away those dreams she’d always had of doing great things? She’d hoped to write a book one day, maybe use her brain and her voice to change things, big things, like motivating people to tackle the climate emergency. Her father had always accused her of being too idealistic. She was like Conor that way, and she didn’t take it as an insult.
But now it all seemed to be drifting away from her. What if she’d lost them by chasing ghosts? What if there was no answer to the mystery of Flight 702?
Passenger List Page 9