Missing (18 page)

Matt nodded. “Yes, most times that is the case. However, this airport has a runway length of 4,000 feet.”

“
That’s a long runway. How could anyone know about it?”

Matt shrugged. “That is a good question. The plane held no clues, no baggage and no food. We don’t even know how they got out of there or which way they headed.”

Bartholomew shook his head. “You found nothing on the plane?”

“
No, not really. There were no fingerprints, no blood splatter, no indication on how the flight crew was subdued. The only thing we did find were several boxes that just had shredded paper inside and two larger empty boxes we assume the bodies were in. Someone had gone down into the baggage area to take the bodies out. Why they did that, I have no clue. A forensics crew went in after the plane landed here, but they didn’t find any more than we did. And no prints came off the boxes. I have a couple of agents working on the shredded paper, but I doubt they will find anything.”

“
How many people were on the plane?” Bartholomew asked.

“
Seven crew members and six passengers. A one hundred member tour group canceled last minute.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Who was the tour group?”

“
Well, that’s the problem. The name is Elite England Tours, but there is no such organization.”

“
That sounds suspicious. Where is the plane now?”

“
We requested the airline lock it up and let no one near it or to go inside. It is inside a hangar right now. But, someone leaked the information to the press and they are all over it.”

Bartholomew nodded. “There were no prints at all?”

Matt shook his head. “No, none. We had a seating chart, so we knew where the passengers were supposed to be sitting, but after we found the bodies, we dusted everything. We also used Luminol in the cockpit, but found no traces of blood there either. There weren’t even any fingerprints of the pilot and first officer. My guess is they wiped everything clean. The only thing we don’t know is how the crew was overpowered.”

“
Are you sure it was all of the passengers that were responsible for the plane being hijacked?”

Matt looked at him. Was he kidding? It was obvious Bartholomew knew at least one of the passengers, so he had to have known the answer to that.

“
Well, since you know who the picture you are holding is, then I would say yes.”

Bartholomew ignored the statement. “Where did you get the photographs?”

“
We got the security tape from Heathrow this morning and printed out the pictures from it.”

The CIA agent said nothing. Then the two agents looked at each of the photographs again. They pulled out one photograph, laid it on the table, facing it towards Matt and Colin.

“
This one is Michael Whitcomb. He has a warrant for terrorist activities in the U.S.”

“
Terrorist activities?” Petersen asked.

Bartholomew looked at Petersen and nodded. “Yeah. About a year and a half ago, he hacked into a power grid in Ohio. He put thousands of people out of electricity for twelve hours.”

Matt nodded. “Yes, I remember that.”

Bartholomew pointed to the photograph. “This is the guy who did it. The company worked many long hours of overtime to find who was behind it. Unfortunately, he took off before they identified him and flew to England. He started hacking again once he got there. It took us a while before we found him. We’ve been chasing him ever since.”

“
Yeah, we have him on a list to find too,” Matt said. He thought for a moment, leaned back in his chair, and then looked at Petersen. “We have no idea where they went after they got off the plane. They might have flown out on a smaller plane or someone met them and they drove out. We just don’t know. We don’t even know where they went. But, if Whitcomb is into hacking, then it doesn’t make any difference where he is. As long as he has a computer, he can hack into anything wherever he is. He probably already has a computer with him. What I am having a problem with, is the fact that he went to all this trouble to get out of England, and he took the flight crew with him. He could be in the U.S., or somewhere in Canada. I think we have a real problem here.”

Petersen nodded. “Yes, we do. You are right. He could be anywhere. I am almost betting he is back in the U.S.”

“
That could very well be,” Matt said. “The question is, where is he?. He could be anywhere.”

Bartholomew nodded. “At least one other of the group we know who also does hacking is the woman. From what we’ve been able to determine, Whitcomb has been teaching her..” He handed Matt the girl’s photograph.

Matt took the photo and looked at the picture again. “Who is she?”

“
Her name is Lisa Morrison.”

“
Does she have a record?”

Bartholomew shook his head. “No, not that we’ve been able to find.”

Matt wrote down the woman’s name below the man’s name he had also written down. Whitcomb had caused damage here, had gone to England and done the same thing. Chances were good that Whitcomb was going to be at it again. And if he was back in the U.S., then they had to find him. Soon.

“
If the girl is working with Whitcomb, then that means she could be as dangerous at hacking as he is.”

Bartholomew nodded. “Yes. It doubles the problem.”

“
I haven’t heard of any systems that are being compromised, but if he is doing something like he did the last time, then we won’t know about it until it is too late.” Matt shook his head. The situation was getting worse.

How are they going to find them?

CHAPTER TWENTY

MONDAY MORNING

WASHINGTON, DC

Glen Harper banged open the door to the office. Patty Howard, Fitzpatrick’s secretary, jumped as the door hit the wall. Harper was not happy. He approached her desk.

“
Where is he?”

“
Mr. Fitzpatrick is in his office. One moment and I’ll announce you.”

“
Forget it. I’ll announce myself.” He started moving away from her desk.

Patty stood up. “But, Mr. Harper…,” she began. Harper stopped and glared at her. She sat back down, and then watched as he walked to Fitzpatrick’s office door, opened it and slammed the door behind him. She blew out her breath. This is going to be a loud one, she thought.

Fitzpatrick heard Harper before he saw him. He watched as Glen Harper walked in and slammed the door closed. He bit his lower lip to suppress a smile. There was no question Harper had seen the six o’clock news last night. The whole ten minute spread on what he had been doing. He had barely gotten in this morning when his phone started ringing. Several of his constituents called to congratulate him. They knew what Harper had been doing, but they hadn’t gotten the shaft as much as Fitzpatrick had, so they were glad he had gotten back at Harper. Fitzpatrick was thrilled to be getting the credit he deserved. He was about to get more.

Harper now stood in front of his desk. His face was flushed a bright red and his fists were clenched. Fitzpatrick already knew what Harper was going to say, and while it wasn’t going to be good, he could withstand it. No way would Harper be able to take credit from him anymore. Actually, he was going to enjoy this.

“
What do you think you are doing?”

Fitzpatrick shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“
The trip to Texas.”

He nodded. “Yes, I made the trip to Texas just like I said I would.”

Harper narrowed his eyes at him. “Why did you have a news crew tailing you?”

Fitzpatrick nodded. “I think the public has the right to see what is being done, don’t you?”

“
Of course, I do. But, I should be the one to tell it, not you.”

Fitzpatrick crossed his arms across his chest. “Really? Then why didn’t you go down to Texas after the hurricane hit? As I remember, you never went down to Texas to assess the situation and be a part of the help to the people in the area. You stayed safe here in Washington and bragged about what you were doing, which was actually nothing.”

Harper gritted his teeth. Fitzpatrick thought the man was going to have a heart attack. This is sure going to set off the rest of his day, he thought. Exactly what Fitzpatrick wanted.

“
Don’t get cocky. I am the Administrator of FEMA. It is my job to work from here.”

Fitzpatrick leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk. “Really? Other Administrators I have worked with have gone to disaster sites with the team. They have gone to assess the situation themselves and then they worked with our team and the local groups and got things organized. All you ever did was watch the coverage on CNN. You have no idea what the affected people lived through, saw the damage and destruction yourself or gotten actively involved. So, is it your job to take credit for my ideas and work I have done, when you weren’t even involved?” He was trying hard to keep his voice even and calm.

“
Of course I was involved.”

“
No, all you did was take my reports. I have heard you read them to the press, almost verbatim to what I gave you. You let me give you my ideas and then you claimed them as yours. There was never a discussion on your part. All of the rest of us worked together to make sure everything was done. We went by the rules, you didn’t. So, I wanted the public to see exactly who was doing the work, who was behind all of this. It sure wasn’t you. And now the people know this.”

Harper glared at Fitzpatrick. “I could have you fired.”

He nodded. “Yes, you could. But, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“
Are you threatening me?”

Fitzpatrick shook his head. “No, I’m not threatening you. I’m just telling you like it is. I am not the only one who feels like this, even though I am the only one you are stealing ideas from. It is time for you to stop.”

Harper said nothing. Fitzpatrick knew no one had ever stood up to him before. Harper did have experience when he had worked for the New Hampshire Bureau of Emergency Management, but now, he was more of a politician than a server of the public. He was also the first one in FEMA history who had never gone to a disaster site to see for himself. Fitzpatrick knew Harper looked at this job as nothing more than a stepping-stone to a higher political office. He had learned this through the grapevine. Since he wasn’t in the same social circles as Harper, it was virtually impossible to verify, but his suspicions were high that he was right. Harper was just a politician looking for attention.

“
Just what do you think you are doing?” Harper asked, his eyes still glaring at him.

“
What do you mean?”

“
Why are doing this? Trying to show me up?”

Fitzpatrick leaned forward. “I’m not trying to show you up. I’m just tired of not getting credit for what I’ve been doing.”

“
You are trying to get my job, aren’t you?”

Fitzpatrick wondered where this came from. Yes, he wanted the job, but there were very few people he had told that to and none of them would have told Harper. He was sure he could do a better job than Harper was doing. Harper was lousy as a boss. He didn’t know how to deal with people. No one liked him, least of all him.

“
What makes you think that?”

Harper narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t give me that. I know what you are doing.” He leaned his hands on the desk, leaning forward so he was only inches from Fitzpatrick‘s face.

“
Don’t even think that you are going to take away my job from me. You don’t have it in you to do that. I know your type and I can crush you. So, I suggest you knock off the self-righteous attitude and go with the program. My program.”

Fitzpatrick just stared at him. He was about to say something, but decided against it. He wanted this over.

Harper stood up, went to the door, and then he turned around and looked at him.

“
I’m giving you one hour to make your decision.”

“
What decision is that?”

“
To contact the television station and give them a new interview, telling them that you were wrong. Tell them I am behind all of it. Not you.”

Fitzpatrick stared at him. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He figured Harper would go ballistic, but he hadn’t expected to be threatened. Especially threatened with what he knew was a lie.

Harper opened the door and walked out, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Well, that went well. Even better than he had hoped. Now he didn’t feel bad at all about what he was going to do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MONDAY LATE MORNING

It was almost eleven o’clock by the time Maggie woke up. She had taken another of the pills the psychiatrist had given her last night. Not so much to forget the children in the fire or her fight with Scott, but to sleep after last night’s adventure. She stretched in bed, and then was immediately sorry she had. She was still sore from her hill climbing last night. Finally, she got up and took a long hot shower. By the time she finished, she felt better. Then she got dressed in jeans and a light yellow short-sleeved t-shirt, pulling her shoulder length hair back into a high ponytail.