by L C Lang
A few moments later, the traffic controller looked on the radar for DAC 3351. He was worried about the incoming storm. It was getting close. Several planes were now on hold to take off. Planes waiting to land were getting priority to be able to land before the storm hit. Still, he was sure DAC 3351 was gaining enough altitude. At the speed he was going, he was sure the pilot would get above the storm before it hit land. Smooth sailing, he whispered as he watched the plane get closer to the end of his radar.
In the cockpit, John Murphy was continuing to get the plane to a higher altitude. The storm was now just ahead of them. The clouds were dark and menacing. However, he wasn’t worried; he was almost above it now. He looked at the altitude meter and knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
Glancing out the side window, he saw they were now over the Channel. A few more minutes and they would be out of danger. He held his breath as the plane flew into the top of the dark clouds.
Ten minutes later, DAC flight 3351 disappeared from the radar screen.
CHAPTER THREE
EARLY FRIDAY MORNING
WASHINGTON, DC
James Fitzpatrick opened the door to his office. His secretary, Patty Howard, was already at her desk. Somehow, she always managed to beat him into the office. Today, she was here earlier than normal. So was he. He wondered how she knew he was coming in early. He said hello to her as he passed by her desk and walked into his office, closing the door behind him. He walked to his desk, laying his briefcase on top and then sat down in his high back leather chair. Then he glanced around his office.
He was promoted to this job a year ago. He had first come to FEMA almost seven years ago and had worked his way up in the organization. With the new job came the office. It is a spacious twenty-foot square office. Dark oak paneling covered the walls. Three matching four-drawer cabinets were against the wall to the right of his desk. Ahead of him, was a 46-inch flat panel television. He kept it tuned to CNN, who always managed to be the first on the scene to any disaster. For now, the TV was off. Nothing major was going on.
Fitzpatrick looked down at his desk. It was six feet long and dark oak. The only thing on top was his computer. Everything else he kept locked inside, away from inquiring eyes. Mainly from his boss.
To his right is a wall of ceiling-to-floor windows, which look out over the Washington skyline. He could see the Capitol building and a variety of other Federal office buildings from here, but not the White House. Still, it was an impressive sight.
When he first got the job, he loved it. He still does, but he had begun to hate it here. Not the job, just one person in particular. Three months ago, in early May, Glen Harper became the Administrator of FEMA. From then on, Fitzpatrick’s life here went downhill. No matter what he did, either Harper took credit for it or he chastised him for doing things behind his back. To make matters worse, it had been a busy summer.
It is now late August and the weather occurrences are beginning to wind down. That is if another hurricane doesn’t kick up in the Atlantic. They were still reeling from Hurricane Marco that had hit Texas a month ago. He had spent two weeks down there. It had been hard work, but he was satisfied they had served the people and the state and now lives were getting back to normal.
After the debacle of Katrina a few years ago, the situation of the trailers was the problem. When he first got the job, he made this his prime focus. A safe home was the most important way of making people feel things would get better; that all was not lost. They no longer used the simple temporary trailers they had used before. Now, they were using commercial grade, long-term mobile homes. It had become obvious that many people did not have the financial means to rebuild. The only solution was the permanent trailers.
It had taken him a while to work out the logistics, so when Hurricane Marco hit Texas a month ago, this was the trailers first trial. Because many of the local residents were poor, he came up with the idea to place the trailers on the lots where the destroyed homes used to be. The city and county councils approved of the idea, and State and local officials in Texas approved of the trailers too. Now, there were no more trailer parks, unless it was necessary. No more formaldehyde problems. Of course, the lots had to be prepared. They had to be able to tie down the trailer, and have water and utility connections hooked up. But, they had worked out all the problems.
Fortunately, hundreds of volunteers had come in to lend a hand. Once the hurricane was over, they came in droves to help with the clean up and settling people back in their homes or the mobile homes. Reports told him over half of the displaced people were now living in the mobile homes. He was sure the mobile homes were better than the houses some of the people had lived in before; based on the debris he had seen.
Fitzpatrick sighed and leaned back in his chair. Yes, it was a good idea. He was glad people appreciated his idea of the trailers.
The downside was that Harper had been claiming it was his idea for the past three weeks. When Harper came into FEMA, Fitzpatrick had conferred with him on what he was working on. Even showed him the plans he had developed. Harper agreed it was a good idea and that it would open up jobs for people to work on manufacturing the trailers. But, when Hurricane Marco hit, Harper began claiming this was what he had personally been working on. And, he claimed it all the way up the ladder, all the way up to the President.
Then there was the press conference. Fitzpatrick clenched his teeth as he remembered what Harper had said. He was in Texas at the time, dealing with the after-effects of Marco, when he found out about the press conference. Later that same day, he saw a taped copy of the speech. At the time, he was glad he was in Texas. Harper should have been glad too. He would have come close to killing him if he had been in Washington. Now, the public thought it was Harper’s idea. He never forgave Harper for what he had done.
Fitzpatrick was glad it was Friday. His wife wasn’t going to be happy though. He was going out of town again. He was going back to Texas to make sure everything was going well. He had gotten reports from his field supervisor’s and had watched CNN. If anyone was going to report the truth, CNN would. From the reports, things were going well. But he wanted to see for himself and to see if there was anything more he could do. And to get out of Washington.
Just then, Patty came in with a cup of coffee for him. She sat the cup down on his desk.
“Thanks Patty,” he said. “What’s on the schedule today?”
“I’ve got it all on the calendar on your computer. Mr. Harper called this morning. He wants to talk to you. I tried to tell him you had a busy schedule, but he was insistent.”
“So, when did you schedule him for?” Fitzpatrick was already thinking of ways to get out of the meeting.
“Two o’clock this afternoon. I tried to get it as late in the day as possible.”
He was sure Patty knew the problem he was having with Harper. He nodded.
“Thanks. When is my first appointment?”
“In half an hour. Ron Wilson wants to see you.”
Ron Wilson was the Assistant Administrator of Response and Recovery. Fitzpatrick had worked closely with Ron during hurricane Marco.
“Okay, that will give me time to get ready for him. Thanks again for the coffee.” It was a subtle hint, but one that told her he needed peace and quiet right now. She nodded and walked back out of the office, closing the door behind her.
Fitzpatrick turned to his computer and turned it on. While he waited, he took a sip of coffee. It was hot and the best coffee he ever had. He made a mental note to have his wife call Patty for the recipe. His wife cannot make coffee to save her soul.
Then he leaned back in his chair, remembering his career. He was now the Assistant Administrator of Disaster Operations. He had held a similar job with the state government in Colorado. His goal was to be appointed to the Administrator of FEMA. He had held a similar position in Colorado in 1995. But, when the FEMA job opened in May, he was passed over.
He had no choice. He would have to wait a while longer.
At the rate Harper was going, he doubted he would be around for long anyway. Fitzpatrick’s wife was not helping his situation either. She kept reminding him he should have gotten the Administrator position months ago. He agreed, but he didn’t have control over the situation. He was at the highest position he had ever been in with FEMA. The next natural step was the Administrator position. Someday, he would get the position. First, he had to prove his worth.
It is just a matter of time, he thought, as he looked at his schedule on the computer. It was a light schedule, which was all right, because he had to concentrate on what he needed to do over the weekend. He had to make sure he did everything right and make sure everyone knows it.
Things will go well this weekend, he thought. He would make sure of that. Harper wasn’t going to like it though. That brought a smile to his face.
CHAPTER FOUR
Six hours later, Patty knocked on Fitzpatrick’s door, opened it and walked in, then closed the door behind her and approached his desk.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir. Mr. Harper is here to see you. I thought you might want to get prepared for him.”
“Thanks Patty. I’m not sure anyone can be prepared for him.”
Patty stifled a giggle and nodded. Fitzpatrick knew Patty had to know what was going on. While he had never talked to her about it, he was sure she had heard Harper yelling on occasion. Him too sometimes. He was also sure all the secretaries compared notes on what was going on in each of their departments. Maybe he should talk to her. She could probably fill him in on things he didn’t know about. Still, he appreciated her giving him more time to prepare for what he knew was coming. Finally, he nodded.
“You can go ahead and tell him to come in.”
Patty nodded, walked back to the door and then opened it. She stood to the side of the door while Glen Harper entered the room and then quietly closed the door behind her as she walked out.
Fitzpatrick watched as Glen Harper approached his desk. The man was a real pain to deal with and it was going to be all he could do to get through the next few minutes. He had to keep reminding himself that no matter what happens now, Monday is going to bring a change. Harper was going to get what he deserved. And he was going to enjoy watching it.
Glen Harper was in his early fifties, about five eight and slim. He was wearing a dark grey Armani suit, which set off his silver hair. Fitzpatrick wasn’t sure where Harper had originally come from, but he did know that he did have experience in emergency management when he lived in New Hampshire. Whether it was good enough to be Administrator, he didn’t know. Harper was a more of a politician than anything else. Being the Administrator of FEMA wasn’t just a job to Harper, he wanted the status. He flaunted it as often as he could. The circles Fitzpatrick traveled in were the same as the rest of the Assistant Administrator’s. Harper, on the other hand, rubbed elbows with Congressmen and Senators, those high in the political ring. He had gotten himself appointed to the job, but only because it was a stepping-stone to a higher position. Fitzpatrick knew this was true because Harper bragged about it. Harper didn’t waste time telling those same people what he was doing during a natural disaster, or rather what Fitzpatrick was actually doing. As a result, his bragging was gaining Harper status. Soon enough, everyone would know the truth, Fitzpatrick thought as he watched Harper sit down in one of the low back leather chairs in front of his desk. Fitzpatrick folded his arms on his desk and waited for the inevitable.
“How is it going, Jim?”
Fitzpatrick nodded. “It is going very well, sir.”
He wasn’t about to guess what Harper was up to. He was being too nice and that made him suspicious. The look on Harper’s face told him something more was coming.
“What’s the situation down in Texas?”
“I called the district office this morning and everything is going well. They are still cleaning up, but more people have now come back and are checking on their homes. He said it looks like most will be staying.”
“Are resources still needed?”
“Yes. Several of the businesses in the northern area are back up and running, so they are helping supply the area. Other businesses further south will take a while longer to get back in business again.”
“It’s been a month. Why are the businesses taking so long to open again?”
Fitzpatrick couldn’t believe the man. Harper may be the head of FEMA, but it was obvious he had no clue about the realities of life for the normal people. When Marco hit, Harper didn’t go down to Texas, he stayed safely in Washington. While he may have watched coverage of the destruction, he had no idea the conditions people were now facing.
“The insurances companies are down there and have been since two days after the hurricane hit. They are working as fast as they can filing claims, but it takes time for people to get their checks. Until then, the business owners cannot get the repairs done and get set back up. Some of the smaller businesses I doubt will come back.”
“Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“I have. Plus I’ve given you detailed written reports.” If Harper pushed him, he would get out the copies Patty had copied for him. When it came to Harper, he had learned quickly to have proof of everything he sent the man.
Harper was quiet a few moments. Fitzpatrick figured whatever the real reason for this visit was going to present itself. Soon.
“What are you going to do now?”
“About what?”
“About the hurricane damage, the fires in California, and the flooding in Georgia.”
Fitzpatrick thought for a moment. He knew that no matter what he said, Harper would be on the news today with the information, crediting himself. Someday, I am going to get the credit for what I have done, he thought. Someday. Soon.
“I’m going to Texas tomorrow. I am going to follow-up and make sure they have the supplies and services they need. I have already talked to my field supervisors, and the Texas Emergency Preparedness, and they assure me everything is under control. However, I want to go and see for myself. The fires are under control and the State of California is taking care of any remaining needs. The field office in Georgia says the damage isn’t as bad as they thought it was going to be. They are working with the state agencies and everything is under control.”
Harper nodded. “Alright. I want a report on Monday morning. I’ll need to notify the council what is going on.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yes, he knew Harper would run to the council with any news, but more than likely today instead of Monday. Harper would be glorifying himself to the council and make himself look good. Only, Harper wasn’t going to like Monday. With any luck, Harper will be gone soon after that. Probably the same day. At least he hoped so.
Fitzpatrick waited to see what else Harper wanted. Finally, Harper stood up, and walked out the door. Not even a goodbye. He leaned back in his chair. Well, that is over with. It was pretty much what he had expected would happen. He also had no doubt Harper will be holding a news conference soon, telling them what he was instructing his staff to do. Fitzpatrick was surprised Harper hadn’t told him to take a team again.
Suddenly, his blackberry buzzed with an incoming message. He unclipped it from his slacks and looked at it. He smiled when he saw the message. He blew out his breath. It is all set. Then he looked at his watch. It wasn’t quite quitting time, but he had nothing else going on. Besides, it is time for a celebration. Things are beginning to look up.
CHAPTER FIVE
3:00 FRIDAY AFTERNOON
NEW YORK CITY - FBI OFFICE
Special Agents Mathew Palmer and Colin McWilliams walked into their commander’s office.
“You wanted to see us, sir?” Palmer asked.
Assistant Special Agent in Charge Jason Abernathy looked up at them, nodded, and then pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.
“Sit down, gentlemen. I’ve got a job for the two of you.”
“Yes, sir.” They both sat down.
Matt looked at his boss’s face, but didn’t like what he was seeing. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t good. Abernathy was in his mid forties, was wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie. He was about six feet tall, dark hair and a complexion that matched his Italian-American heritage. The name Abernathy was from his father’s American side. He was born and raised in New York City. He had been with the FBI for twenty years and had gotten himself promoted to Assistant Special Agent in Charge a year ago. Matt had no doubt he would be the SAC in a few years.
Leaning his arms on his desk, Abernathy looked at both of them.
“What I’m about to tell you is just between us, for the moment. I need you two to do some legwork. See what you can find out.”
“Okay. What’s the problem?” Matt asked.
Abernathy took a deep breath. “I got a report a few minutes ago about a missing DAC flight.”
Matt glanced at Colin, who shrugged, and then he looked back at Abernathy.
“A plane went down? We didn’t hear anything about it. When did it happen?”
“Well, that’s the problem. They don’t know if it went down at all.” He paused a moment. “The flight left London this morning at nine thirty. Four thirty our time. The plane should have gotten here around noon, but it never arrived. At the time the plane took off, there was an incoming storm and the plane left just prior to the storm hitting landfall. They said the radar told them they saw the plane fly into the storm, but the plane should have been almost above it when it hit. The plane was over the Channel and had just gotten over the Atlantic when the signal dropped off. At first, they thought it was just a glitch, but when they tried contacting the plane, they got no response. They got no distress signal from the plane either. No indication they had any kind of problem.”