Flying Too Close to the Sun Page 23

“Don’t give me that,” Christina immediately shot back.

  “Go to hell.”

  “The three of us are probably going to wind up there anyway.” Christina suddenly felt a throbbing headache, which could be an aura. She immediately called crew scheduling, said she felt ill and they replaced her. Erik was livid. She hauled him into this mess, was probably trying to cheat him out of his share and now left him to stew, alone.

  After spending the rest of the day in bed her headache abated enough to drive. She wore loose-fitting jeans with a matching light blue top; nothing sexy, because she felt anything but and drove using Juni’s precautions. Erik wasn’t certain if she would show but decided to go anyway, if for no other reason than to confront Juni.

  After Christina arrived at Pepi’s, Erik followed a few moments later. Juni was already there, wearing hurt on his sleeve like a neon sign. Sitting at the same secluded table, Erik looked at a different person; a pale, perhaps even smaller man. They ordered pizza and beer accompanied by an awkward silence, easy to recognize but difficult to define.

  Screw the pizza. Erik was hungry for information. The tension between them was thick, like prize fighters in the ring just before the opening bell. Erik had tough questions and would demand hard answers and threw the first jab. Trying to ignore Juni’s physical condition, he said, “Are you two trying to cut me out?”

  Juni’s features hardened and his raspy reply came. “Cut you out? I was the one who got beat. I wanna discover who got our money.” He paused. “We can waste time if you want, but the guy who hit me was ugly and bearded, about forty-five, maybe five-ten, stocky, built like a weightlifter, but with a fatter midsection. He had thinning blond hair and a blotchy complexion with a birthmark, a brownish colored mole on the left cheek.” Juni pointed to the area on his own cheek. “He probably shaved off the beard by now. Does this match anyone you know?”

  Christina didn’t utter a word, but the word weightlifter got her attention. Did this mystery person work out, maybe with David?

  There was no reply. “If you guys still don’t believe me there was a local kid named Tony Conte who found me. His family’s boat’s docked there. If you want, I’ll track him down and get his phone number so you can speak to him. You have to accept what I’m saying as the truth ‘cause it’s the first important step in getting our money back.”

  Erik figured the truth might be here, somewhere, but not knowing who he could trust. “I don’t wanna go on a walk down some bullshit memory lane with you about some kid. If you were whacked so hard, how come you’re here? Why aren’t you in the hospital? I’ve got two sickies on my hands. This one called in sick today and left me with rage as my only companion,” he said pointing to Christina.

  “I was, was under the weather, you ungrateful little—” Christina started to say, but Juni interrupted.

  “I probably have a concussion. But I’m not a doctor and I’m not goin’ to one.”

  “Oh? Why not?” Christina chimed in.

  “Whaddaya crazy? The first thing a doc would ask is what happened and if I try to bullshit the guy, he might call the cops. I’ll take my chances.”

  “Why don’t you show me where this mystery man supposedly whacked you,” Erik said.

  Juni wheeled around, took Erik’s hand and gingerly placed it on the back of his head. “You believe me now?”

  Erik immediately pulled his hand away from the bandaged swelling in Juni’s skull, still damp from oozing. Juni’s eyebrows came together, creating creases across his forehead.

  Erik wondered if that created pain from pulling on the wound.

  Juni pleaded. “Now it’s my turn. You have to be a hundred percent honest with me. None of this makes sense, ‘cause the guy left the keys in the trunk lock. For some reason he wanted me to get outta there. Why?” Juni whispered. “Something is very wrong here. Did either of you slip, disclose our plan to someone? Anyone? Mistakes can be undone. Wrongs righted.”

  “I didn’t say shit,” Erik insisted, but then recalled the night he had begun to relate the story to Carol, but stopped. Was it enough for her to relay what was said to someone else and could that person have passed it on? Carol wouldn’t harm him but someone else might. His mind raced. What would he do now? He was right back in the same predicament. He started to speak, “If your story’s true…”

  “It’s the truth! How much goddamn proof you need? C’mon, put it all on the table. You still don’t trust me, do you?” Looking from Erik to Christina and back, Juni curled his hands into tight fists and held them in front of him as if trying to pull apart a rope. “Suspicion can eat away at people like acid, so for your information I did not take our money.” Something, maybe resentment thumped in his temples and tears involuntarily ran down his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away. Not relishing bringing up the ghosts of the past he informed them with redness of embarrassment on his cheeks, “You wanna know the truth? This was unchartered waters for me. But it wasn’t the first time somethin’ like this happened. I had a good, legit job at a bank and was set for life until the day some money was missing. Guess who was the guinea who got blamed? I always used an ethical knife with a very sharp blade at the bank, but when some private dicks they hired discovered I had been suspected of straying while in high school it was enough. Suddenly a chill came over my fellow workers. Then corporate amnesia set in and all my skilled work was conveniently forgotten. People I knew for years, the same ones I worked with and called friends avoided me like I had the plague. Overnight I was like shit on their shoes and all they wanted was to wipe me away, write me off like a bad check. I got physically sick from all the pressure and finally resigned. The whole thing was hushed up and no charges were ever filed. I didn’t take the dough, but knew who did, but couldn’t rat the guy out. The WASP asshole who stole it is still workin’ there and probably still stealin’. The old expression, justice is blind is accurate. Overnight, I stepped from one universe into another. I was forced to deal with what appeared to be failure or worse to everyone except me and my wife; the only ones who knew what really happened. But silence cost me my job and long-term security. How do you think I felt reverting into the fuckin’ fake I hated so much? I thought that person had been left behind, forever. I didn’t want to do this job but stepped back into the darkness only for what it would mean for my family. So I wouldn’t have to borrow from some new Peter to pay Paul. And just like the pricks at the bank you think I stole it.” A number of diners turned and looked at them as Juni again wiped his eyes with his fingertips.

  “Lower your voice,” Erik demanded.

  “My word is my bond,” Juni softly growled, making blood vessels surface in his temples. “Maybe you two can’t grasp the meaning of that, but we shook hands, ate and drank together. If doing that makes me old-fashioned in your young minds then I’m guilty as charged. Friendship is about trust and I’m no rat. The only reason I took a chance on meeting like this was to try to figure out who did it. I’ve always been well served by using hard logic and believe if we put our heads together and use these tools, we might be able to begin to get to the bottom of who it was. I jeopardized a lot just by comin’ here. Think about it. Why would I risk meeting with two prime suspects? Instead, I’d be putting as much distance as possible between you and me. The cops don’t even know I exist. I’m even gonna drive back to Boston hoping to spot the prick.”

  “All right,” Christina sighed, as she peered into mahogany eyes seemingly mirroring a warm heart, but her mind was still on David. “You asked us, but maybe you mentioned something to someone?”

  Juni recalled the mere fragment he revealed to Martino. There was probably no way Joey could have figured out what he was up to. But if he did, prying anything out of him would be hard. “You take me for an idiot?”

  “It’s just that we came s
o close,” she whispered, constantly wringing her hands to force feeling into them, at the same time trying to force feeling for Juni into her heart. They spoke in hushed tones while logically going over the smallest details until nearly closing time, but couldn’t come up with anything. Juni sensed they were missing an important piece of this puzzle, but didn’t know what. He finally offered, “Whoever it was either had to know every detail or was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”

  “Maybe this guy was after your wallet and only discovered the money afterwards,” Erik offered.

  “C’mon. No one would wait with a baseball bat on a deserted dock just to roll someone, not knowing if the guy had a dime.”

  “For now it’s the only plausible explanation.”

  “I’m returning to Boston for a couple of days. Maybe Mister cement-face will do something really dumb, like driving to the ball field in a flashy new Jag or bedecked with jewelry? It’s a long shot, but might pay off.”

  “Does anyone know how much we had?” a dejected Christina asked. She wanted to forgive, but found it difficult to do.

  “The cops will keep it hushed up,” Juni added. “But it had to be at least a couple of million.”

  “I asked them that question. Their only reply was it was a substantial amount,” Erik added. He was out of fuel and running on fumes. “Can either of you help me?” he pleaded. “My deadline’s almost here.”

  Christina wondered about her future and how she could pay the next term’s tuition for Laurel and buy Jimmy’s new computer and printer. What effect would all of this have on her relationship with both? On top of everything else, she just discovered David’s tuition money never made it to the school. The bursar had called and said he still owed it. No grades would be issued until it was paid. He probably pocketed the cash. For the foreseeable future he was the only constant in her life and she didn’t want him out—not yet. Although he didn’t make her heart melt like the water in a frozen stream at spring’s first thaw, she was more terrified of being all alone, like her mother. “I’d like to,” she replied, “but I’m broke.”

  Erik looked to Juni. “Sorry, but the guy even grabbed money I borrowed. I got plenty to worry about.”

  Erik’s brain raced. What the hell was he going to do? He chewed on that thought during the seemingly endless drive home and again in bed, until he finally fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Daly, Morganthaler and a sizeable cadre of FBI and Port Authority police pored over all possible angles during their systematic investigation. After securing a list of the crew and passenger names they painstakingly checked out each, looking for criminal records, mob-related activity or other connections. Daly ran a background check on all possible suspects in similar crimes nationwide, while Morganthaler, with the help of some contacts in the NYPD reached out to confidential informants, small-time hoodlums on the cops’ payroll. Per chance, someone might have attempted to dispose of old bills through the criminal world. But all these came up empty-handed.

  The FBI’s forensic experts working at headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. weren’t much help either. The 727 was pulled out of service the following day over Shuttle Air’s objection, and they went over the forward cargo bin with a fine tooth comb. But no fingerprints, blood, fibers or other material that couldn’t be accounted for was found. Although human hairs were discovered, no matches were in the FBI’s criminal DNA data base. The same was true for the duffels, which turned out to be unnumbered, imitation army surplus sold in thousands of outlets throughout the US, Europe and Asia. The same held true for the locks, two of which were so old as to be untraceable. The newer ones were eventually tracked to auto-supply stores in Dedham and Newton, Massachusetts. There were no surveillance cameras in either store and interrogations of the cashiers were no help. None recalled the purchases nor could they could identify any suspects from snapshots provided by police, including the crewmembers’ photos. A list of potential suspects, including government workers, passengers and other airline workers was drawn up. Some were grilled at length, but this also came up empty handed.

  A routine credit check uncovered Erik’s financial dilemma and showed Christina’s credit card was borrowed to the max. So the possibility of flight crew involvement raised some eyebrows. The two men met at Daly’s office, where the first split between the locals and FBI surfaced when Morganthaler said, “Let’s bring ‘em in and lean on ‘em.”

  “Who?”

  “The kid and the broad. Let’s tell the kid she implicated him. He would probably lose his nerve after ten minutes alone and the Stockholm syndrome would kick in. He’d work with us.”

  “That’s fucking asinine,” an unyielding Daly replied. “You’re overreaching out of frustration. You think if he planned out some complex plot, he’d just cave? So, he owes some money and Shepard’s credit card is maxed out. We’ve got to come up with better evidence, so let’s wait for Preis’ bank deadline and see what happens.”

  No doubt the suits would fuck things up, again. “If it was up to me I’d lock the kid in a room for as long as it took to get some answers,” Morganthaler replied.

  “Well, it’s not your call.” To appease him somewhat, after re-reading the tower’s transcribed conversation tapes, Daly suggested they again interrogate each pilot separately to discuss the particulars of the aircraft’s generator problem in greater detail. “Just don’t let on we know about the money Preis owes or Shepard’s debts.”

  Morganthaler reluctantly agreed, but nothing new came from these interrogations. They then reconfirmed with Boeing there was no possible way to access the cargo compartment from the cockpit, in the process verifying the generator problem was almost an everyday occurrence for a jet of that age. But a subsequent check of the aircraft’s maintenance log revealed it had no previous history of this malfunction, which raised a tiny red flag. The delay had been slightly less than four minutes. Was it long enough to pull off a well-executed robbery? It also came to light Shepard had reported to her chief pilot about Montgomery’s questionable performance during a previous flight emergency, strongly recommending he be sent to alcohol rehab or if he refused, his employment be terminated. This was certainly not the action of a partner in crime. Montgomery remained the odd man out, so he was also re-interviewed.

  Daly and Morganthaler arrived at his chic suburban New Jersey home early in the evening. His wife, Ingrid answered the door and ushered them into the den where Woody was watching TV. He clicked it off and invited them to be seated.

  “We won’t take much of your time,” Daly told him, “but want to ask you some additional inquiries about the ground delay in question.”

  Woody nodded his head.

  “In your opinion, could someone have opened and removed anything from the forward cargo bin while the crew was busy resolving the electrical malfunction and if so, could the cockpit crew have missed it?”

  Montgomery put on a pensive expression. “I don’t believe it would have been possible. Shepard had given me specific instructions to keep my attention focused on cockpit communications and the surrounding area because she didn’t want anything to happen...”

  “Like what?”

  “Conflicting traffic or a crucial missed communication with the tower would be the two best examples. There have been a number of near misses in Boston involving aircraft taxiing while others were landing or taking off.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Sure. I worked the radios, informed the passengers about our short delay and kept an eye peeled outside. If the forward cargo door had been opened, I almost certainly would have seen or heard something.”

  “Are you saying it would have been impossible?”

  “Probably. Plus, there’s a doo
r light that would illuminate on Preis’ panel if the door were opened.” Woody then added, “Our delay was only a few minutes. There just wouldn’t have been enough time to do anything.”

  The lawmen thanked Woody and left. Other policemen interviewed every passenger once again, attempting to establish any potential link between one and any crewmember, airline or government personnel, a time-consuming task, which again came up empty. Next, Daly and Morganthaler went over all of the written interview summaries, along with a computerized spreadsheet on which all possible witnesses and suspects were placed at different, case-important times and places. The Time and Location, or T and L sheets are used to identify and possibly come up with a list of suspects with the highest probability of involvement. They were able to track with a large degree of certainty the movement of the bags from beginning to the end of the journey with the exception being from the time the plane began taxiing until it landed and parked at the gate. Although there was no hard evidence implicating them, Shepard and Preis remained high on the suspect list because of the T and L sheets.

  After speaking with Transportation Security Administration officials, Daly and Morganthaler learned infrared motion detectors that sensed heat and-or motion had been installed along the area bordering the bay adjacent to Runway 22 Right. The TSA officials said these were tied into warning devices located in the air traffic controllers’ work area. If anyone had ventured onto the airport boundary near the plane, their movements should have set them off. The standard operating procedure, however, was to deactivate them when the airport visibility dropped below a half a mile to prevent any possible conflict between an auto sent to investigate and any aircraft taxiing for takeoff. They had been deactivated prior to the time Shuttle Air 1540 pushed back from the gate, but the weather bureau records showed the visibility had improved to above a half-mile for a very brief period, yet the detectors weren’t reactivated.