Free Fall

Forty-One

Manhattan, New York

The air held traces of men’s cologne in the glass-walled boardroom at Newslead’s headquarters, where Kate joined Chuck Laneer, Graham Lincoln and five other people.

“Everyone, this is Kate Page,” Chuck said. “Kate, I believe you know Nick Varner with the FBI from some of your previous stories. With him, also from the FBI, is Leonard Brock.”

Nick and Brock, an older balding man, nodded, then Kate turned to the two men in rumpled jackets who sat across the table.

“We also have detectives Karl Steiger and Ted Malone of the NYPD.”

Both men wore grim faces. The woman near them wore a dark blazer.

“And we have Helen Swayne, with our legal team.”

Swayne opened her leather-bound notebook, clicked her pen and gave Kate a professional smile. Kate looked beyond the glass at the newsroom, where she’d left Grace at the copy editor’s empty desk. She was doing her homework on her tablet.

Grace was safe.

“To bring you up to speed,” Chuck began, “everyone’s seen both emails, and everyone’s been briefed. Now they have questions and thoughts to share. Nick, if you want to start.”

“Right. There are multiple aspects to today’s email-the implicit threat to take action against the airline industry, the demand for publication and the personal threat against you, Kate.”

Kate nodded.

“Our first question,” Varner said, “is have you experienced anything unusual that you might consider a result of your stories, or connected to the emails in question?”

“Nothing other than being followed, and I’ve reported that to the NYPD.”

“That’s right, and that’s with us,” Steiger said. “Kate informed us that a woman had followed her, and she managed to get the woman’s license plate. We’ve determined the woman was a private investigator working for Infinite Guardian Shield, an international private firm.”

“Any idea who hired her and why?” Lincoln asked.

“We’ve spoken with the firm. They’re not required to give us that information. What they did was legal, but in light of this latest development, we’ll continue to pursue the matter.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have an ax to grind?” Varner asked. “Either with the airline, with your news agency, or with you?”

“One person comes to mind.” Kate looked at Chuck and Lincoln.

“Who?”

“Sloane F. Parkman,” Chuck said. “A reporter we recently terminated for violating company policy in relation to this story.”

“A caution,” Swayne said. “You don’t have to volunteer this information.”

“Given the circumstances,” Lincoln said, “we will. Continue, Chuck.”

The investigators took notes as Chuck recounted Sloane’s history with Newslead, his relationship with Richlon-Titan and his behavior.

“We’ll talk to him,” Varner said, more to Swayne. “As you know, with the first email, it was your preference that we use a search warrant for our Computer Analysis and Response Team to gain access to all your servers and networks in order to identify the source of the email.”

“Yes,” Swayne said. “That’s what we prefer, so we’re not perceived as being police informants or an extension of a police agency.”

“Expect us to issue another warrant for us to search everything related to Sloane Parkman.”

“What’s the status of your investigation into the source of the threats?” Chuck asked.

“Our work continues. We’ve yet to deem the threat either credible or a hoax by someone seeking attention in relation to the London and New York air incidents. We know that the sender is skilled, intelligent and is using sophisticated means to keep themselves anonymous. But this new email, with more content, may prove to be helpful and work to our advantage.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lincoln said.

“With these threats, this person has committed a felony, and they will be charged and prosecuted,” Varner said. “Are you going to publish this email as demanded, or any part of it?”

Chuck and Kate looked at Lincoln to answer.

“As was the case with the first email,” Lincoln said, “our position is unchanged. We have no plans to publish this demand.”

“Good. That will give us time to assess and analyze the new content,” Varner said.

“And it will give us time to pursue the private investigation launched against you, Kate,” Steiger said.

“Sounds like we can wrap this up,” Chuck said.

“One last matter.” Varner looked at Kate. “We don’t take the threat lightly. Let us know if you don’t feel safe and the FBI can arrange for someone to stay with you and your family.”

Images streaked through Kate’s mind, memories of her being followed, of a sense of being watched in New York and London. And that time I felt someone was in our building.

She looked at Grace.

Then she looked at Varner.

“Yes, maybe for tonight.”

Over lunch in the food court downstairs, Kate tried to explain the situation to Grace.

“You know how sometimes a bully will say ‘I’m going to follow you and get you’?”

Grace nodded as she chewed.

“They say it but they never do it,” Grace said. “They just want you to be afraid.”

“That’s right. Well, a bully said that to me because they didn’t like my story, so the FBI is going to have an agent stay with us for tonight, just to be safe, okay? That’s what this is all about today, okay?”

“I guess so. Maybe we should get a pizza, then?”

“That’s a good idea.” Kate smiled.

Kate called Vanessa to update her.

“You really think we need it, Kate?”

“Just for tonight. I need the peace of mind.”

What Vanessa had said before was true, Kate thought. Because of all they’d endured, especially Vanessa, they weren’t easily frightened. But Kate wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking of Grace and Vanessa, and she needed to do something to ease her anxiety.

That afternoon, the FBI’s Office for Victim Assistance called to make arrangements. A couple of hours later, Hank Bradley, an FBI agent, arrived in an SUV with two other agents to pick up Kate and Grace. Then they picked up Vanessa and drove to their building in Morningside Heights.

Bradley, a gentle giant of a man, along with the other two agents, inspected Kate’s apartment before allowing Kate and her family inside. Satisfied it was secure, the two agents left and Bradley, who had an overnight bag, stayed. They had pizza and ice cream, then Kate set him up in Grace’s room. Grace would spend the night with her.

Kate collected extra blankets for Bradley and knocked on his door. He opened it, wearing sweatpants and an FBI T-shirt. She saw his gun on Grace’s nightstand, but also noticed scars on his arms. He noticed her looking at them.

“Sorry for staring.”

“Don’t apologize. I was wounded when I was on the SWAT team.”

Bradley was in his fifties. He had a kind face, and Kate liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He reminded her of her dad.

“Thanks for being here,” she said.

Despite Bradley’s presence, Kate still had trouble sleeping.

She got up several times in the night, stood at her window and looked out at the darkened street and a sliver of the city’s skyline.

Who are you, Zarathustra, and what are you planning?