Passenger List

by John Scott Dryden

  ‘Allegations made this morning that Flight 702 was brought down by the terrorist known as the White Matchmaker have already started to unravel,’ the newscaster was saying. ‘At a briefing at the Foreign, Commonwealth & Development Office in London, an intelligence report was revealed that showed the White Matchmaker is currently incarcerated in Kabul, Afghanistan. Real name Samantha Griegen, also known as Uzma Griegen, she gained her title because she was a white Westerner who recruited young girls for the Somali-based radical militant group Al-Shabaab …’

  Dennison muted the TV and turned to Rory and Kaitlin. ‘That wasn’t the White Matchmaker on Flight 702.’

  ‘Who was it, then?’ Kaitlin asked, bewildered. She’d been so sure. She turned to Rory. ‘Your contact said—’

  ‘I know.’ Rory rubbed his chin. ‘She’d been Fed intel.’

  ‘This is one smokescreen after another,’ Dennison interrupted. ‘This is how these people work. You can’t trust anything. The lies and the half-truths pile up until you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.’

  ‘Laura Jones – Chrissy – was on the flight,’ Kaitlin pressed. ‘She was posing as the wife of Aziz. You’re telling me there’s nothing in that?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Dennison tossed the remote aside. ‘The news is going to come out later. A leak, but a true one. The teacher, Laura Jones, was an MI6 agent investigating the virologist’s connections to Iranian intelligence. That’s why there was so much secrecy surrounding her identity.’

  Kaitlin flopped on the sofa. Rory buried his face in his hands.

  ‘OK, so I’m now the public face of a debunked conspiracy theory, plastered across all media,’ he began. ‘Nobody’s going to trust a word I say any more. So, when all my past indiscretions are rolled out, I won’t stand a chance at defending myself. Completely, utterly discredited.’

  Kaitlin felt her heart go out to Rory, but when he took his hands away, she was relieved to see that he didn’t look too dispirited.

  ‘The details were wrong, but the thrust of the argument is correct,’ Rory continued. He was staring into the middle distance, speaking as his mind turned over the evidence. ‘MI6 was investigating Aziz. They were clearly worried about him. There’s something there.’

  ‘You’re damn right,’ Dennison said. ‘The problem is that now you’ve played your cards, you’ve got nothing. And all of those people who want to stop the truth about Flight 702 from being brought into the light are going to come for you.’

  Kaitlin sagged. She really didn’t want to go off-grid again. The thought of running and hiding crushed her.

  As they all bounced ideas around, Rory’s cell buzzed and his eyes lit up when he checked it. He glanced at her before answering, grinning.

  ‘Maybe I’ve found our lifeline.’

  ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Renee.’ The underground parking lot reeked of car fumes.

  ‘Trust me, I want that way more than you.’

  She sounded weary, Rory thought, and, if anything, she looked even more worried than the last time they’d met. Her eyes darted around the parked cars, searching for any sign of movement.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again,’ he said.

  ‘As much as I hate it, I felt I owed you. The false information about the White Matchmaker was on me.’

  ‘You didn’t know it was false.’

  ‘I’m trying to do the right thing here, Rory, so why don’t you keep your mouth shut?’

  ‘OK. Carry on.’

  ‘I saw your face all over the media. Getting torn apart. You deserve a lot of things, but you don’t deserve that, not when it was clear you were taking a risk for the sake of the families. If it was just about the class action, you wouldn’t have gone to those lengths. So …’ She took a deep breath. ‘I have some new information. This, I’m sure, is correct because it’s so fragmentary and it’s only been circulated in the highest circles of the industry. Suppressed. I could be putting myself at risk even mentioning it to you.’

  Rory felt his intuition tingle. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You could call it a rumour. It could be nothing. But we have an eyewitness report of an aircraft flying too low near Thule Air Base on the north-western coast of Greenland, followed by the sound of an explosion. That’s our northernmost air base and the only one in the Arctic Circle, and—’

  ‘It’s on the flight path 702 was taking when it swung north from its transatlantic route.’ Rory felt a rush of excitement. ‘That’s a coincidence too far.’

  ‘You’re going to Greenland, aren’t you?’ Renee asked in an even wearier tone.

  Rory grinned.

  24

  A square of light from the Rosewood Art Gallery flooded across the sidewalk. Inside, a well-heeled but dressed-down crowd swilled back champagne as they drifted around the private viewing. The wintry night air was sharp, but it was warmed with the spicy scents from the curry house two blocks over.

  Kaitlin eased away from the light and the activity to a gated entryway, where she nestled in the shadows. She didn’t have to wait long.

  The figure walked up from the direction of Bed-Stuy, hunched in a thick coat, head kept well down. Back at the apartment, Dennison was monitoring events and making calls to his contacts. Rory wasn’t back from his assignation yet, but when he’d called, he was buzzing with anticipation. Funny how things turned out. Only a few hours ago, the decision to go public had seemed like a disaster. But Rory’s deep throat wouldn’t have stepped forwards to help them if they hadn’t gone so spectacularly off course. Humiliation could be a positive force.

  ‘You came,’ she said. ‘I thought I might have seen the last of you.’

  Thomas slipped into the shadows beside her. His gaze flickered around the street. ‘You really expected me to stay away when you leave a message saying Conor is still alive?’

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you until I’d found out more, but you weren’t responding and I was getting desperate.’

  Kaitlin watched Thomas’ face as she played back the voicemail. A tremor crossed his features when he heard Conor’s voice. She knew what he was feeling, how he’d struggled keeping all those emotions locked down tight for so long for fear they could only be released in a deluge.

  ‘It’s him. You know it is,’ she said.

  He nodded.

  ‘What do you think?’

  For a long moment, Thomas said nothing. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, she thought. She reached out and touched his arm, prompting him.

  ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you. I wanted to protect you, but …’ He shook his head. ‘Just after the plane took off, Conor sent me a message: something’s going down. That was what he said. That was all he said. All those hackers and activists and psychos and whatever in that utilitarian group he loved. Conor was a keen part of that.’

  Kaitlin gaped. ‘He was with them?’

  ‘They all had different agendas. Some were more dangerous than others. Some were just crazy. But they all shared one aim: to disrupt the global status quo. I persuaded Conor to spy on them and inform on any who were likely to be a threat to life. Then I could channel it up the chain of command.

  ‘Conor got word that they were planning something big. Something to do with a biological weapon that involved the airline industry. The intel was strong enough to be true but vague enough that we had nothing solid enough to go on. We didn’t know where or when. MI6, the CIA, all the agencies on both sides of the Atlantic were working on it.’

  ‘What else are you keeping from me?’ She heard her voice crack.

  ‘Nothing, honestly.’

  ‘All those agencies. They have to know what happened. Where Conor is.’

  ‘Maybe they do. But I don’t. I was cut out of the loop the minute Flight 702 vanished. Any intel after that was purely on a need-to-know basis. That’s when I started pulling away from the security services. At first, I thought I was locked out because of my relationship with Conor, but whatever
went down it seems like a lot of the agencies have stopped talking about it.’ Thomas shuddered, pressed his hand across his eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ Kaitlin breathed.

  ‘The guilt’s been eating me up since that night.’ He swallowed, fighting to control his emotions. ‘What if … What if I’m responsible? By passing on Conor’s last message. What if I’m responsible for his death? The death of all those passengers? The grief those families felt. You … your mom and dad …’

  ‘How could you be responsible?’

  Thomas stared at her with glistening eyes. ‘Governments have to take hard choices. If someone on Flight 702 was suspected of harbouring a biological weapon, the decision might have been taken to shoot the plane down.’

  ‘But Conor’s alive, Thomas!’ Kaitlin gripped his arm, willing him to believe her. ‘He’s alive.’

  ‘Is he, though? How do we know that for sure?’

  ‘You heard the message!’

  ‘I heard Conor’s voice. What it means, I don’t know. You don’t know. An old recording? A trick to flush you out? More disinformation? That’s how intelligence agencies work. They don’t need to deny. They only need to confuse. The more confusion the better. Until everyone’s wandering around in a fog, not able to tell what’s truth or lie. Lost for good.’

  Kaitlin slumped. ‘Conor’s alive, Thomas, I know he is.’

  Thomas squeezed her shoulder. ‘I can help you disappear,’ he murmured. ‘A new identity. A new life. So you don’t have the government breathing down your neck for the rest of your days.’

  ‘No.’ Kaitlin felt her defiance burn. ‘I’m not running away. I’m seeing this through to the end. You walk away if you want, that’s down to you. But not me.’

  Thomas flinched as if she’d slapped him.

  ‘My friend has a lead. A big one. If this is where the answers lie, then I know the risks are going to be huge. But I have to do this, Thomas, for Conor. And I’m not sure I can do it on my own.’ She bit her lip. ‘Will you help me?’

  Thomas and Dennison eyed each other over the coffee table like two competing species. They didn’t trust anyone. In their business, that was probably a healthy response, Kaitlin thought. She set a Diet Coke down in front of Thomas and a Jack Daniels in front of Dennison, then cupped her hands round her matcha tea. Even her generous hospitality didn’t thaw the atmosphere.

  A key rattled in the door and they all turned. Rory whirled in, beaming and excited. Kaitlin felt her spirits lift instantly.

  He looked stunned to find yet another new addition to the team sitting in the apartment, but once he’d been introduced to Thomas, he said, ‘This could be the big one. My contact heard about a lawsuit over in Greenland that’s being handled by a colleague. The day Flight 702 went missing, someone was hit by a piece of flying debris. This person said they saw a plane flying close to Thule Air Base. Too close. And then a piece of metal shattered their windshield.’

  Dennison slammed his glass on the table. ‘Damn.’

  ‘Thule would fit the new flight path,’ Thomas mused.

  ‘The eyewitness think it crashed,’ Rory continued. ‘They heard an explosion, or what they think was an explosion. A loud boom.’

  ‘Could anyone survive that?’ Kaitlin asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Dennison said.

  ‘Possibly,’ Thomas said.

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ Rory insisted. ‘If it was flying low enough, yes. Trust me, I have old case files about this clogging up my office. But here’s the thing. Even if the plane did crash, it wasn’t in the sea.’

  ‘So the wreckage was planted,’ Dennison interjected. ‘A cover-up.’ He snatched up his bourbon and threw it back in one gulp.

  Rory nodded, grinning. ‘Something’s going on at that air base.’

  25

  The last of the few hours of sunlight glinted off the frozen landscape. As the twin-prop descended, Kaitlin looked out of the window and marvelled at the loneliness of this part of the world. Just a few scattered villages dotted the tundra and one small town nestled close to the fjord. Below, Qaanaaq Airport was little more than one airstrip and a low-level arrivals and departure building with sapphire-painted walls and a white roof.

  The juddering plane bounced down and rumbled to a halt. As the door was thrown open, Kaitlin winced at the bite of the wind.

  ‘Minus seven out there,’ Thomas said as he pulled on his parka. ‘Could drop as low as minus twenty when the sun goes down.’

  Rory yanked his fur-edged hood so tight only a small circle of pink face showed. ‘Sooner we’re in, sooner we’re out.’

  Kaitlin admired his optimism.

  At the foot of the steps, she felt a hand tug her sleeve. Dennison leaned in.

  ‘Kaitlin, I need to apologise again. When we first met, I was in a very dark place. And I worry that I scared you.’

  ‘You didn’t scare me.’

  ‘All that talk about shadows and biological weapons.’

  ‘You were right, though. I think you were right about all of it.’

  He nodded, seemingly relieved by what she’d said. He was a good man. They all were.

  As they traipsed through the departures door into the glaring light and warmth, Kaitlin threw back her hood.

  ‘Our papers are ready,’ Thomas muttered. ‘Any problem, let me do the talking.’

  Kaitlin felt relieved Thomas and Dennison had come along. She didn’t know how she’d have made it through otherwise. Between them, they’d sourced new passports under fake identities, tickets and enough cash to book passage with a change at Copenhagen in Denmark to throw off their trail for whoever might be tracking them. If they’d gone directly to Thule Air Base, they’d have needed a permit from the Danish Foreign Ministry, but Thomas had persuaded them it was better to scope out the lie of the land before making a direct approach.

  They eased through immigration, with Thomas claiming he and Kaitlin were eloping; one week here in the Arctic Circle and then off to Europe for a honeymoon. Whatever lies Rory and Dennison spun, it seemed to do the trick.

  Out in the car park, Kaitlin stamped her feet and rubbed her hands for warmth. Only a sliver of red sun edged the horizon.

  ‘Now what?’ she said.

  ‘Now, we split up,’ Thomas replied. ‘I’ve got a guide waiting so we can check out the area where Flight 702 was supposed to have come down.’

  ‘Jim’s coming with me,’ Rory said. ‘Got a meeting with the lawyer acting for the eyewitness. Old friend. We’ll see what we can pick up and then check in at the hotel. When you get back there, we can discuss the next step.’

  While Rory and Dennison headed towards their rental car, Thomas slipped behind the wheel of a jeep. A few minutes later, they were rumbling along frozen roads, swathed in the heat blasting out of the vents.

  ‘Only another twenty minutes or so,’ Thomas said.

  Maybe he could sense her anxiety. So close now to knowing the truth.

  ‘You’re sure this guide is on the up and up?’

  ‘He’s an old contact. Been a few years since I’ve seen him, but we can trust him.’ He snaked his hand down into his bag and pulled out a GoPro. ‘Before I forget.’

  ‘What’s this for?’

  ‘Clip it to your jacket.’

  ‘I’m already recording. I’m always recording.’

  ‘We’re heading deep into the tundra. There won’t be any cell service. It’s going to be bitter cold, probably very windy and, overall, incredibly harsh.’

  ‘Sounds like fun,’ Kaitlin said, clipping on the GoPro.

  ‘That camera is made to withstand harsh conditions. Your iPhone isn’t. You need to think ahead.’

  Kaitlin eyed him, feeling a rush of irritation. ‘Patronising much? You’ve been gone the past few months and I’ve been doing just fine without you. I told you all along that Conor was still alive and I was right.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Would it kill you to give me some credit?’

  ‘I just want u
s to keep our heads. Think before we act.’

  Kaitlin softened her tone. There was no point getting into a fight. ‘I know we still have to get in and a lot of things could go wrong, but it’s OK to be hopeful.’

  ‘What if Conor isn’t there? What if that’s an old recording?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she replied, looking out into the white landscape. ‘This is the closest we’ve got and we have to keep going.’

  ‘If we don’t do this right – if we don’t do this perfectly – and something happens to Conor … I can’t fail him again.’

  ‘You’re not going to fail him. You haven’t failed him. You never stopped looking, just like me.’

  The road rumbled beneath them. With every mile that passed, Kaitlin felt her chest grow tighter.

  The office was cramped, with a computer on the desk from a brand that Rory didn’t recognise. It looked like it came from the last century. But at least it was warm. Probably too warm. He fanned himself.

  Dennison sat beside him like an Easter Island statue, giving nothing away. They both watched the lawyer moving around her den, putting files into cabinets as if that were a far more important task. Malina Jensen was blonde and slim. Danish stock. God knows why she was out here on the edge of nowhere.

  ‘So good to see you again, Rory,’ she said as if it wasn’t even remotely good to see him.

  Dennison eyed him.

  ‘Good to see you, too, Malina. Been a few years since we worked on the Kangerlussuaq Airport case.’

  ‘Oh, you remember that? You forgot my phone number quickly enough.’

  Now Dennison was glaring at him.

  ‘Life got on top of me, Malina, and I’m truly sorry for that. But let’s not dwell on the past.’

  She tucked the final file away and slipped into her chair. ‘If you want to go after GreelandAir, you can—’

  ‘No, no, it’s not that,’ Rory stressed.

  ‘We’re here about Flight 702,’ Dennison growled.

  Malina smiled. ‘Of course. That’s just the sort of case you’d go for. So, you’re suing Atlantic Airlines, I take it?’ She turned to Dennison. ‘And who are you, exactly? Forgive me, but you seem rather too old to be his intern.’