Airframe

Jennifer said nothing. She waited, while Marty thumbed through the file.

"Wait just a minute here," Marty said. He was staring at the file. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," Jennifer said.

"This is dynamite," Reardon said. "Where’d you get it?"

"Norton sent it to me in a background package, three days ago, by accident."

"Bad accident," Marty said. "Especially for Ms. Singleton."

WAR ROOM

2:15P.M.

Casey was crossing the plant, heading over to IAA, when her cell phone rang. It was Steve Nieto, the Fixer in Vancouver.

"Bad news," Nieto said. "I went to the hospital yesterday. He’s dead. Cerebral edema. Mike Lee wasn’t around, so they asked me if I could identify the body, and – "

"Steve," she said. "Not on a cell phone. Send me a telex."

"Okay."

"But don’t send it here. Send it to FT in Yuma."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

She hung up and entered Hangar 4, where the tape strips were laid out on the floor. She wanted to talk to Ringer about the pilot’s hat they’d found. That hat was critical to the story, as it was now becoming clear to Casey.

She had a sudden thought, and called Norma. "Listen, I think I know where that fax came from about the in-flight magazine."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Call Centinela Hospital at the airport. Ask for a stewardess named Kay Liang. And this is what I want you to ask her. Better write it down."

She spoke to Norma for several minutes, then hung up. Immediately, her cell phone rang again.

"Casey Singleton."

Marder screamed, "Where are you, for Chrissakes?"

"Hangar Four," she said, "I’m trying to – "

"You’re supposed to be here" Marder screamed. "For the interview."

"The interview’s four o’clock."

"They moved it up. They’re here now"

"Now?"

"Yes, they’re all here, the crew, everybody, they’re setting up. They’re all waiting for you. It’s now, Casey."

Which was how she found herself in the War Room, sitting in a chair, with a makeup woman daubing at her face. The War Room was full of people, there were guys setting up big lights on stands, and taping sheets of cardboard to the ceiling. Other men were taping microphones to the table, and to the walls. There were two camera crews setting up, each with two cameras – four cameras in all, pointing in opposite directions. Two chairs had been arranged at opposite sides of the table, one for her, one for the interviewer.

She thought it was inappropriate that they were taping in the War Room; she didn’t know why Marder had agreed to it. She thought it was disrespectful that this room, where they worked and argued and struggled to understand what happened to planes in flight, had been turned into a prop for a television show. And she didn’t like it.

Casey was off-balance; everything was happening too fast. The makeup woman kept asking her to keep her head still, to close her eyes, then open them. Eileen, Marder’s secretary, came over and thrust a manila folder in her hands. "John wanted to make sure you had this," she said.

Casey tried to look at the folder.

"Please," the makeup woman said, "I need you to look up for a minute. Just a minute, then you can go."

Jennifer Malone, the producer, came over with a cheerful smile. "How’s everything today, Ms. Singleton?"

"Fine, thanks," Casey said. Still looking up for makeup.

"Barbara," Malone said, to the makeup woman. "Make sure you get the, uh …" And she waved her hand toward Casey, a vague gesture.

"I will," the makeup woman said.

"Get the what?" Casey said.

"A touchup," the makeup woman said. "Nothing."

Malone said, "I’ll give you a minute to finish here, and then Marty should be in to meet you, and we’ll go over the general areas we’re covering, before we start."

"Okay."

Malone went away. The makeup woman, Barbara, continued to daub at Casey’s face. "I’m going to give you a little under the eyes," she said. "So you don’t look so tired."

"Ms. Singleton?"

Casey recognized the voice at once, a voice she’d heard for years. The makeup woman jumped back, and Casey saw Marty Reardon standing in front of her. Reardon was in shirtsleeves and a tie. He had Kleenex around his collar. He held out his hand. "Marty Reardon. Nice to meet you."

"Hi," she said.

"Thanks for your help with this," Reardon said. "We’ll try to make it as painless as possible."

"Okay…"

"You know of course we’re on tape," Reardon said. "So if you have a bobble or something, don’t worry; we’ll just cut it. If at any time you want to restate an answer, go ahead and do that. You can say exactly what you want to say."

"Okay."

"Primarily we’ll be talking about the Transpacific flight. But I’m going to have to touch on some other matters as well. Somewhere along the line, I’ll ask about the China sale. And there’ll probably be some questions about the union response, if we have time. But I don’t really want to get into those other issues. I want to stay with Transpacific. You’re a member of the investigation team?"                                      

"Yes."

"All right, fine. I have a tendency to jump around in my questions. Don’t let that bother you. We’re really here to understand the situation as best we can."