Inside Out

41

Ward Field, Virginia

As the Lear embarked on its descent, Winter peered out and saw the derelict red-and-white-checkerboard-painted water tank that signified a military airfield. He stared down expecting to see the skeletal remains of a jet, but what he saw was the twisted steel of what had been a massive hangar and an enormous amount of activity on the ground below.

The grassy tarmac on the side of the runway was choked with small jets, a cargo plane, and two helicopters. Police cruisers, trucks, emergency vehicles, and cars were scattered around the blackened hangar ruins. Long black water hoses snaked from a trio of fire trucks.

Their pilot parked near a Gulfstream and cut the engines, and the copilot opened the clamshell door so Archer and Finch could exit. Winter spotted a group of men striding toward the Lear wearing jackets that identified them as either US marshals or FBI agents. One of them was United States Chief Marshal Richard Shapiro.

Archer spoke to Shapiro for a few seconds, then led Finch and the other FBI agents toward two canopy tents. Folding tables, with laptop computers and radios, had been arranged in a horseshoe to define the command post. In the adjacent tent, evidence bags covered several tables. Technicians were photographing the contents of each bag before handing it over to other techs for labeling and cataloging. A mobile chiller unit to handle human remains was located behind the evidence tent.

Winter stepped down and stood in the grass outside the door. Shapiro looked fatigued and concerned. He shook Winter's hand briskly. “Outstanding job on the island, Winter. This is all so…”

Shapiro's silence was as heavy with grief as a wail. He cleared his throat and looked past Winter. “Please, Mrs. Devlin. If you'll stay inside the plane for a few minutes. We have a lot to discuss and we will talk soon, you and I. First I need to have a few words in private with Deputy Marshal Massey.”

“Sure,” Sean said noncommitally. She disappeared back into the cabin.

Two deputies took up positions on either side of the door as though she might try to escape.

“Terrible about Deputy Martinez,” Shapiro said. “And this.”

“What happened?”

Shapiro took a deep breath. “The jet was inside the hangar when it blew up. There's very little left in the way of evidence.”

“Do you know how they were killed?”

“They found a skull fragment with an entry wound, probably. 45 caliber. The hijackers murdered the pilots at Cherry Point using manual strangulation. Wearing the pilots' uniforms, they overcame our team after they were inside the plane. Ground personnel saw the men get into the craft but they didn't notice anything unusual. The jet taxied and took off normally. As it climbed out, it rose to ten thousand feet, then plunged below radar and obviously turned west.”

Winter was staring at the evidence tent while Shapiro spoke. He saw Archer and Finch inside the tent where technicians were pointing out evidence bags. Archer had clearly taken charge.

“I can only imagine how difficult this has to be for you.” Shapiro paused. “I know how close you were to Inspector Nations.”

Winter nodded, too full of emotion to speak.

“The FBI suspects someone in WITSEC provided inside intelligence. This is an FBI investigation, and we're here at their pleasure and are being excluded from participation. Tell me what happened last night,” Shapiro said. “The broad strokes.”

Winter told Shapiro the story, ending with the UNSUB who knew his name. Shapiro listened without interrupting, then shifted so his back was to the FBI's tents.

“I've ordered the WITSEC director to open an internal investigation to examine everything, including the various methods of communication we utilized and whether any of the transmissions could have been intercepted. I don't believe there is a leak from within WITSEC. We assumed that there are so many flags, triggers, and hidden traps that it's impossible. For decades we've tried to imagine every way a thing like this could be accomplished and we constantly design, refine, and implement counter measures. Only a handful of men had access to enough of the information to furnish the necessary intelligence, and, believe me, we monitor all of them closely. The fact that one of the assailants knew your name means, either he somehow recognized you, or somebody within the service sold us out.”

Winter nodded slowly. He hoped it was the latter, because the former was too terrible to contemplate.