Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO HELPED BURY HER HUSBAND
Aaron Vale was sitting in seat 16C.
Laura wanted him brought forward immediately.
Captain Foster refused.
“If this aircraft has been sabotaged, we don’t move an unknown person toward the cockpit.”
“He knows what happened to my husband.”
“And he may know what’s happening to us.”
That was exactly what worried Laura.
A flight attendant named Simone stayed beside Aaron while Laura spoke to him through the cabin interphone.
“Start talking.”
Aaron’s voice shook.
“I worked for Halcyon Aerospace twenty-two years.”
“I remember.”
“You probably remember me as the man who testified that Ben’s aircraft had no flight-control defect.”
Laura’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“That testimony was false.”
For eleven years she had imagined somebody saying those words.
In dreams.
In anger.
During the nights Sophie had asked what kind of pilot her father had been.
Laura had never imagined hearing them while sitting inside another aircraft experiencing the same failure.
“Why?”
“Because the company knew about a software vulnerability.”
“What vulnerability?”
Aaron took a breath.
“The control computer accepted certain maintenance-level commands when it should have been locked against them in flight.”
Laura looked at Foster.
He was listening.
Aaron continued.
“It was supposed to be impossible outside ground diagnostics.”
“Supposed to be?”
“We found evidence that under specific conditions corrupted data could enter the command path.”
Laura’s hand tightened around the handset.
“Did that happen to Ben?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
One word.
Eleven years.
One word.
“Who knew?”
“Halcyon executives. Two Air Force acquisition officers. The accident board chairman.”
“Name.”
Aaron hesitated.
“General Marcus Keene.”
Laura knew him too.
Everyone did.
Four-star retired general.
Former commander of Air Combat Systems.
Now chairman of Keene Aeronautics, one of the largest defense technology companies in America.
He had personally looked Laura in the eyes after Ben’s funeral and told her:
You cannot carry responsibility for your husband’s decisions.
Laura had hated him for saying it.
Now she understood why.
He needed her to believe Ben had made a mistake.
“Why did you lie?”
Aaron’s voice cracked.
“Because they showed me what would happen if I didn’t.”
“Meaning?”
“My clearance. My career. My pension. My wife had cancer.”
Laura felt something ugly rise inside her.
“So you traded my husband for health insurance?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
At least he didn’t insult her with an excuse.
Laura looked toward the cockpit windows.
Black Atlantic.
No horizon.
“What does this have to do with this aircraft?”
“I have proof.”
Foster leaned toward the interphone.
“Proof of what?”
“Halcyon buried seven flight-control incidents.”
Laura’s stomach tightened.
“Seven?”
“Ben was the only fatality.”
“Until tonight?”
Aaron said nothing.
Laura understood.
“Why are you on this flight?”
“I’m going to Madrid to meet investigators from the European Aviation Safety Agency.”
Foster looked startled.
“This isn’t a Halcyon aircraft.”
“No. But Halcyon wrote part of the flight-control interface software through a subcontractor during an avionics modernization package.”
Captain Foster cursed.
Aaron continued.
“I discovered the vulnerability had migrated into civilian software architecture.”
Laura looked at the displays.
“How long have you known?”
“Four months.”
“And you waited?”
“I was trying to build a case nobody could bury.”
“You should’ve warned somebody.”
“I did.”
“Who?”
Silence.
Laura already knew the answer would be bad.
“Marcus Keene.”
Foster stared at the interphone.
“You informed the man who covered up the original defect?”
“I wanted to give him one chance to come clean.”
Laura nearly laughed.
“You idiot.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And since then?”
“My house was broken into. My files were copied. Someone followed my daughter.”
The aircraft moved through turbulence.
Aaron’s breathing grew louder.
“I booked this flight under my middle name.”
“Then how did somebody find you?”
“I don’t know.”
Laura thought about the anonymous cockpit message.
Then another question hit her.
“How did you know I was onboard?”
Silence.
“Aaron?”
“I saw you at the gate.”
Laura frowned.
“You recognized me?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“That never stopped you when you were testifying against a dead man.”
Foster gave Laura a quick glance.
She did not regret it.
Aaron whispered, “You’re right.”
The line went quiet.
Then Simone’s voice came over.
“Cockpit, we have a problem.”
“What?”
“Mr. Vale looks sick.”
Laura straightened.
“What kind of sick?”
“He’s sweating. Chest pain.”
“Medical emergency?”
A passenger in row seventeen identified himself as a cardiologist.
While the cabin crew moved Aaron into the galley, Laura remained in the cockpit.
She hated it.
She wanted to look into his face.
Wanted to make him explain every signature.
Every hidden memo.
Every time she had sat awake after Ben’s death wondering whether she had missed something.
But the airplane came first.
It always did.
Captain Foster contacted Shanwick Oceanic and requested an immediate diversion.
Communications were unstable, but a route toward Lajes Field in the Azores was eventually established.
Military airfield.
Long runway.
Emergency capability.
Laura approved the choice instantly.
“How long?”
“Just over two hours if everything stays stable.”
Everything.
The word mocked them.
First Officer Alvarez was moved out of the cockpit for medical evaluation.
Laura remained in his seat.
Foster looked at her.
“I know this is not legal procedure.”
“I’m technically a passenger.”
“You’re technically the reason we’re still level.”
Laura did not answer.
The interphone rang.
Simone.
“Aaron is conscious.”
“Put him through.”
His voice was weak.
“Laura.”
“Save your strength.”
“No. Listen.”
She waited.
“There’s a drive.”
“What drive?”
“Black USB. Inside my carry-on lining.”
“Where is the bag?”
“Overhead.”
“What’s on it?”
“Everything.”
“Copies?”
“One encrypted cloud backup.”
“Password?”
“I’m not giving it over the interphone.”
Smart.
Finally.
Then he said:
“Someone tried to take the bag after you came forward.”
Laura’s blood ran cold.
“Who?”
“Man in 3D.”
Foster grabbed the passenger manifest.
“Name?”
“Caleb Rourke.”
Laura saw Foster’s face change.
“You know him?”
“No.”
He turned the manifest toward her.
Occupation:
Aerospace security consultant.
Laura’s skin prickled.
Aaron continued.
“I recognized him after takeoff. He used to work internal security for Keene.”
There it was.
Not random.
Not coincidence.
Laura pressed the interphone button for the purser.
“Simone, do not approach 3D alone.”
“Understood.”
“Is there an air marshal onboard?”
A pause.
Then a different male voice answered.
“There is now.”
Laura almost smiled.
“Good.”
She explained quickly.
The air marshal, Agent Thomas Reed, moved quietly toward first class.
Rourke was no longer in his seat.
“Where is he?” Laura asked.
A flight attendant checked.
“Lavatory.”
Which one?
“Forward.”
Too close to the cockpit.
Foster locked the reinforced door again.
Seconds passed.
Then shouting erupted beyond it.
A crash.
Passengers screamed.
Laura stood halfway out of her seat.
Foster pointed at the controls.
“Stay.”
Every instinct screamed at her to move.
She stayed.
Over the interphone came Reed’s voice.
“Suspect contained.”
Laura exhaled.
“What happened?”
“He tried to access a crew service panel.”
Foster stared.
“What panel?”
“Forward galley electronics compartment.”
Laura looked at him.
“Could he reach flight systems?”
“Not directly.”
“Not directly is not no.”
A flight attendant searched Rourke.
They found a phone.
A small electronic transmitter.
And a folded page containing one sentence:
VALE HAS THE DRIVE. VANCE MAY RECOGNIZE THE SIGNATURE.
Laura stared at the message when Reed read it aloud.
Someone had known both she and Aaron were onboard.
But only after Aaron recognized her at the gate?
No.
That did not fit.
Then Aaron spoke weakly from the galley.
“Laura.”
“Yes?”
“I think I know how they found me.”
“How?”
“My ticket.”
“What about it?”
“I used a company travel account.”
Laura closed her eyes.
He had hidden his name but paid through an account Keene’s people could monitor.
“And me?”
“I don’t know.”
Another violent roll interrupted them.
Laura grabbed the controls.
The ghost command was back.
Stronger.
Foster isolated another channel.
Nothing.
The aircraft rolled farther.
Ten degrees.
Fifteen.
Passengers screamed.
Laura pulled.
The controls fought back.
Exactly like Ben’s had.
Then Rourke began laughing from the floor outside the cockpit.
The air marshal shouted at him to stay down.
Rourke yelled toward the reinforced door:
“You should’ve stayed asleep, Colonel!”
Laura’s face went cold.
He knew her.
Not from the gate.
Before the flight.
“Who told you I was here?” she shouted through the interphone.
His answer came almost cheerfully.
May you like
“Ask General Keene.”
Then every primary flight display went black.
