Hard Landing

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dan turned from the window and paced the length of my office. He'd rearranged the chairs to give himself a lane in front of my desk. As he paced, he continued his report, ticking off the points one by one. "We're using USAir's inbound claim until we can get ours up and running again, which might take up to two weeks. They're charging us an arm and a leg for it, but we don't have a choice. We're closing off all access to ours while we put it back together. No damage to any of the aircraft, but Maintenance had to check out everything that had been parked at that end of the building when the thing went off. We delayed three flights, canceled the last, and rebooked everyone on United and American."

"We lost the revenue?"

"We didn't have any choice, boss. Nothing of ours was going that way that would have gotten them to Denver last night. A few people were so spooked they didn't go at all."

"I guess we ruined a few vacations. How many bags were lost?"

"Thirty-seven items for twenty-two passengers. Everything in the cart was blown up or burned beyond recognition, mostly skis."

"I know about the skis. I spent several hours in baggage service last night letting people scream at me. It's amazing how attached people can get to their skis. A couple of guys even wanted the pieces back. It was painful."

"We've got inspectors all over the place," he said, "Port Authority security, investigators, state troopers. I'm dodging the media and trying not to trip all over the headquarters people who've come out to 'help' us."

"As far as the media," I said, "I called Public Relations again this morning. Refer all inquiries to them." I stood up and leaned back against my credenza, resting my hips against the edge of the work surface. Somehow, it didn't feel right to be sitting down through all of this. "This is because of Little Pete, isn't it? About not bringing him back to work?"

"If it's not, it's an incredible fucking coincidence. I talked to Vic yesterday morning about delaying the decision, yesterday afternoon the bag room blows up. I'd say the two could be related."

I didn't know whether to be nervous or angry. I settled for being generally uncomfortable and continuously on edge. "What do you think we ought to do, Dan?"

"We've got the employee meetings set up. You had your say with the Business Council last night."

"Sure, that was effective. 'We'll do everything we can to help you through this,' " I said, mimicking Victor's insipid tone, " 'but we need to know exactly how you're gong to protect our men.' "

Dan stopped pacing. The second he slipped down into one of my side chairs, I took his place. The distance from wall to window was exactly seven paces. On one of my laps, I closed the door. "There has to be something we can do that will get their attention."

"I think you've already gotten their attention, boss. As far as doing something about it, here's what's going to happen. We'll do our investigation, the fire department will do theirs. No one will talk, which means nothing concrete will come out of it, which means you can't blame the union because you can't prove they did it, which means you can't take formal measures against them."

"I don't want to back down on this, Dan."

"You might not have much choice. If Terry McTavish was not talking before, he sure as hell is not going to be talking now. Besides…" He gazed out the window at an empty expanse where an aircraft should have been. The gate closest to my window was out of service while the jetbridge was being repaired. "I'm not sure it's the best thing for you to hold out against Big Pete."

I turned and stared at him. "How can you say that? Should we give them what they want because they blew something up? Or set something on fire? Or slowed down the operation? That's why we're in this spot to begin with."

"No, it's not. It's not because of something you did, or I did, or Ellen did. It's Lenny. This station went to hell while he ran it, it got nothing but worse when Dickie was in charge, and as long as Lenny's your boss, nothing is going to change. You can't take on this union without the company's support, and as far as it goes out here, Lenny is the company. Makes no difference to me. I'm not going anywhere. But you were right the other day. You've got something to lose."

The mention of Lenny reminded me of the upended turtle. I'd been so tired after yesterday, but after what Matt had told me about how my own boss had been trashing me behind my back, I'd spent most of the night stewing instead of sleeping. I'd gotten out of bed this morning exhausted, but clear on one point-if I was going, I wasn't going out on my back. I stood in the window and stared down at the empty ramp. "Do you think Scanlon knew what was going on in Boston while Ellen was here?"

"No."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Think about it. You know Lenny's not going to let on to his boss, and I know Ellen wouldn't have filled him in."

"No?"

"She always thought that she could handle Lenny, that he would help her if he understood what was really going on, and if she couldn't make him understand, then it was her fault. She felt like she owed him for giving her the job. She said he was the only guy in the field operation who would have taken a chance on her."

I turned back to the window, thinking that Ellen was the one who had taken the chance, not Lenny. Taken a chance and lost.

Dan came and stood next to me. "Speaking of the asshole, when's Lenny due in?"

"Not until two o'clock. Why? Do you want to meet his flight?"

"After what he said about my kid, I might kill him if I see him. Besides, that's your job. That's why GMs get the big bucks. Do you need anything else before he shows up?"

"Maybe some oxygen. Do we have extra coverage while he's here?"

"I called in a couple of supervisors from their day off, and I had a talk with some of the better crew chiefs. As soon as I can find him, I'm going to have another long chat with Victor just to let him know that I'm watching. Things are going to smooth out if I have to break balls personally."

"Listen"-I turned to check the door, forgetting that I had already closed it-"I talked to my Finance guy again last night, and I found out what fish means. It's microfiche."

"No shit?"

"He also told me that Ellen asked for invoices related to those pre-purchase adjustments, but she asked specifically for hard copies because she wanted to see the signatures. We're thinking she wanted to see who had approved payment of those invoices."

"Do you think those invoices are somehow related to the one you found from… what was it called?"

"Crescent Security. I think there's a link between the deal and the Nor'easter operation in Boston, I think it has something to do with the IBG contract that failed, and I think Crescent Security is part of it. Molly's going to pull all the information she can find on them in the local files. If Matt ever sends me the documents, we might find the connection."

As we watched, a driver pulling a train of three carts came out of the outbound bag room too fast, made a sharp turn, and sent two boxes and a suit bag flying across the ramp. He never looked back.

"Fucking moron." Dan moved toward the door. "Tell Finance Guy to hurry up. If Lenny's coming up here, we may be running out of time. By the way," he said, pausing in the open doorway, "you looked good on TV last night, really in control. Even I was reassured."

He dashed out laughing at my expense as Molly strolled in with the morning mail. "You should have worn some lipstick if you were going to be on TV."

"Believe it or not, I didn't get dressed yesterday morning with the idea that I would end the day on WBZ."

"You should never leave the house without a tube of lipstick."

"Thank you, Miss Manners."

I took the pile of mail and went back to my desk. Molly was in no hurry to get to work. She stood in front of my desk, perusing the office like an interior decorator. "When are you going to hang something on these walls?"

"I don't know. I think all that stuff is in storage right now."

I sifted through the mail quickly, threw half of it away, and tossed the rest into my in-box. Molly hadn't budged.

"Danny showed me Ellen's frequent flier card," she said, "and that list of trips she took."

"Are you convinced now?"

"I have a theory," she said, sounding more provocative than usual. "I think she was having an affair, a secret affair."

I leaned back in my chair. "Why do you think that?"

That's all she'd been waiting for. She closed the door and dragged one of the chairs in front of the desk and settled in. "I'll grant you, I didn't know anything about this travel business, but I thought something had been going on even before that. She used to get these phone calls. Usually she'd close the door, but sometimes I overheard and whoever she was talking to"-she raised her eyebrows-"she had the tone. You know the one I mean?"

I thought about Ellen's note, I thought about the voice I'd heard on the phone last night, and I knew exactly what she was talking about. "It's the way you talk to someone you love."

"Exactly. It's the tone. Kind of low and sexy and quiet. After one of those calls her whole mood would change. She'd be happy for the rest of the day. And sometimes she'd come in all dressed up for nothing in particular. If you ask me, those were the days she was going to meet him and wanted to look her best. That's what the travel was all about. She didn't want anyone to know."

"Did she ever talk to you about it?"

She dismissed the idea with a quick shake of her head. "Ellen was way too private for that. But sometimes a girl just knows, and I knew something was going on."

"Did you know about the dating service?"

"Dating service? When was this?"

"Recently. She joined and quit all within the past two months."

Again with the abrupt head shake. "Whatever was going on with her started right after she got here and went right up until the end. In fact, remember I told you about that last day, when she came out of her office crying? Maybe she got dumped. Women have killed themselves for less."

Even with all the intrigue and threats, the questions, the mystery package, it was still hard to argue with depression, alcoholism, Detective Pohan, and genetics. Ellen's mother had killed herself. And when you added a possible broken heart… Molly and I were definitely on the same track, but did that make it so?

"Dan doesn't believe she was having an affair," I said. "In fact, he emphatically disagrees."

She ran one of her perfectly lacquered nails along the edge of her gold bracelet. "Danny doesn't want to believe anything bad about Ellen."

"If having a boyfriend makes you bad, we'd all be in trouble."

"Oh, it's not the what that bothers him, it's the who." She raised her dark eyes, and I realized this was the point she'd been building to all along.

"Do you know who it is?"

"It was Lenny."

I think my jaw might have actually dropped. I leaned forward until my chin was almost on the desk. "Lenny?"

"I think she always had a little thing for him ever since he gave her this job, and he's not hard to persuade in that area. I've lost track of his extracurricular activities since he left the station, but more than a few of the girls around here got to know Lenny when he was the boss, if you get my drift."

"Lenny Caseaux?"

"Sure. He's a good-looking guy, and that Southern accent of his can be charming in a deep-fried sort of way. Besides, he's the boss. Power is always sexy."

"I guess so. I just never thought of him as anything but my boss. Isn't he married?"

"Why do you think they kept it a secret?"

I could see why Dan would be upset by the idea. "Do you really believe she would have killed herself over Lenny?"

"Here's what I think. Ellen worked too hard, she had no life, and she felt like she was getting old. If he showed the slightest interest in her, she might have decided that it was better than being alone."

I thought about Ellen's dating video. By her own admission, she'd picked situations that were never going to work out. This one certainly would have qualified. I reached up to rub my eyes and it felt good until I remembered, too late, that I was wearing mascara.

Molly just shook her head. "I can find out for sure," she said as she handed me a tissue from her skirt pocket. "I can check the list of her destinations against his travel schedule. The executive secretaries post the officers' travel calendars in the computer. We can see if they were together in the same cities."

"You need a password to get into the site."

Her full red lips curved into a feline smile. "Give me a few days."

The phone rang and she answered it in my office as I used a small mirror from my desk-Ellen's mirror- and tried to repair my raccoon eyes.

"Speak of the devil," she said, hanging up.

"Make my day and tell me Lenny's not coming."

"He's not coming." She walked around to the front of the desk. "He's here."

"He's here. Now?" I bolted from the chair and threw on my suit jacket. "He's not supposed to be in for three hours." I opened the door and ran out, trying to smooth my collar on the way. I was halfway out to the concourse when I had to double back.

"Where is he, anyway?"