Chapter 6 - The Man Who Buried the First Crash
Commander Holloway ordered the data secured before Nora had removed her flight suit.
By the time she entered the operations conference room, the atmosphere had changed.
The celebration was over.
Two security officers stood outside.
Captain Sloan sat beside a computer terminal.
Briggs leaned against the far wall.
And on the large display was a name Nora had spent three years trying to forget.
VICTOR SHAW.
Nora stopped.
Holloway pointed toward an empty chair.
"Sit down."
She remained standing.
"Sir, what did he access?"
"We don't know that he accessed anything."
Briggs stepped forward.
"His credentials attempted to retrieve the maintenance diagnostic archive."
"Attempted?"
"The request was denied because we'd placed the records under a restricted preservation hold."
Nora looked at the screen.
"Then he knows."
Sloan frowned.
"Knows what?"
"That we found a second incident."
Holloway folded his hands.
"We cannot assume his intentions."
Nora gave a bitter laugh.
"You don't know Victor Shaw."
"Then tell me."
She looked away.
For three years, she'd avoided discussing the investigation.
Not because she'd forgotten.
Because every conversation ended with someone explaining that the Navy's official conclusion mattered more than her memory.
Holloway waited.
Finally, Nora spoke.
"After my crash, I spent thirty-six hours in a military hospital."
Sloan listened.
"When I was released, investigators told me the aircraft's oxygen system had passed every inspection."
Nora looked at Briggs.
"I asked for the raw maintenance records."
"What did they say?"
"That the records were incomplete."
"Because of the crash?"
"That's what Shaw claimed."
Nora turned back to Holloway.
"But I knew the aircraft had received oxygen-system maintenance eleven days earlier."
"How?"
"Because I'd signed the discrepancy report."
Briggs straightened.
"You filed an oxygen-system discrepancy?"
"Yes."
"What symptoms?"
"Intermittent pressure fluctuations and a clicking sound."
Holloway stared.
"And that wasn't in the final accident report?"
Nora shook her head.
"It was listed as a resolved minor maintenance item."
"Was it resolved?"
"That's what the paperwork said."
Briggs looked troubled.
"What did the corrective action record show?"
"Component inspection and operational check."
"Performed by whom?"
Nora hesitated.
"That's where things became strange."
She took a breath.
"The maintenance technician listed on the final record told me he'd never touched the airplane."
Sloan leaned forward.
"Did you report that?"
"Yes."
"To Shaw?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"He accused me of pressuring witnesses."
The room fell silent.
Nora continued.
"I asked him to interview the technician formally."
"Did he?"
"He said it wasn't necessary."
Briggs shook his head.
"That's not how you handle a disputed maintenance entry."
"No."
Nora looked toward the screen.
"Two weeks later, that technician was transferred."
Holloway's expression hardened.
"Name?"
"Petty Officer Second Class Daniel Rourke."
Sloan began taking notes.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
Holloway turned to the security officer.
"Locate him."
The officer nodded and left.
Nora sat down.
She suddenly felt exhausted.
For three years, she'd carried the knowledge that something was wrong.
But knowledge without evidence had destroyed her career.
Now another pilot had nearly died.
And the same man who dismissed her account had appeared at the edge of the new investigation.
Sloan tapped her tablet.
"There's something else."
Everyone looked toward her.
"I contacted the regional engineering office."
Nora felt her heart quicken.
"What did they say?"
"Several older versions of the oxygen-system software and maintenance guidance were revised after your accident."
Nora frowned.
"Revised how?"
"We're still obtaining the full history."
Briggs spoke.
"If the guidance changed because of a known hazard, there should be an engineering trail."
"Exactly," Sloan replied.
Holloway looked at the large display.
"Then we find it."
A knock interrupted them.
An ensign entered.
"Commander, Captain Shaw is on the phone."
The room went still.
Holloway looked at Nora.
Then at Sloan.
"Put him through."
A speaker crackled.
"Commander Holloway, Victor Shaw."
"Captain."
"I understand you've had an unusual incident."
Holloway kept his voice neutral.
"We had an aviation emergency."
"So I've heard."
Shaw sounded relaxed.
Too relaxed.
"I also understand you allowed a former pilot with a revoked qualification history to operate a military aircraft."
Nora clenched her hands.
Holloway glanced at her.
"The authorization and safety documentation are complete."
"That doesn't mean the decision was wise."
"Lieutenant Ketterman is alive."
"Fortunately."
Holloway's expression hardened.
"Was there something specific you needed, Captain?"
A pause.
"Only to remind you that Nora Valdez has an established history of mishandling cockpit emergencies."
Nora stood.
Holloway raised a hand, signaling her to remain silent.
Shaw continued.
"Allowing her near another serious incident could complicate the investigation."
Sloan stared at the speaker.
"Captain Shaw, this is Captain Rebecca Sloan."
"Captain."
"Are you assigned to this investigation?"
"No."
"Then why did your credentials request access to its diagnostic archive?"
Silence.
Then Shaw laughed.
"I'm sure that's a misunderstanding."
"Can you explain it?"
"Administrative systems occasionally generate automated requests."
Briggs quietly shook his head.
Sloan continued.
"We're preserving the access logs."
Another pause.
"Naturally."
Holloway spoke.
"Captain, any evidence relevant to Lieutenant Ketterman's emergency will be reviewed through appropriate investigative channels."
"I would advise caution."
"We're exercising it."
Shaw's voice hardened.
"Commander, you may not understand how sensitive this situation could become."
Holloway leaned toward the microphone.
"Then perhaps you'd better explain."
Silence.
Finally, Shaw answered.
"I'll be in contact."
The line went dead.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Nora whispered.
"He knows."
Holloway looked at her.
"Maybe."
She shook her head.
"No, sir."
Her eyes filled.
"That's the way he sounded before he told me the investigation was over."
Briggs's phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Then his expression changed.
"What is it?" Sloan asked.
Briggs looked at Nora.
"Daniel Rourke."
Nora stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
"You found him?"
"Not exactly."
Briggs turned the phone toward the group.
An old maintenance colleague had sent him a message.
It contained one sentence.
If Valdez is asking about Rourke, tell her to check the death certificate.
Nora stared at the words.
Holloway spoke slowly.
"Death certificate?"
Briggs nodded.
"Daniel Rourke died eighteen months after your crash."
Nora gripped the table.
She remembered Daniel Rourke.
Twenty-eight years old.
Funny.
Always carrying a thermos of terrible coffee.
The man who had quietly told her that someone else's initials appeared on work he'd never performed.
Now he was dead.
May you like
And Nora was beginning to understand that the Coral Sea incident hadn't ended with her loss of wings.
It had merely gone quiet.
