man's face and close-ups of his thumb and index finger prints. The wi-fi system was now up and running, as were the telephones. He loaded the photos onto his laptop and emailed them to Aiden MacKenna so that he could start tracking down who this guy was. Locke spoke with Aiden while Dilara, who was now convinced that Grant could be trusted, filled him in on the story she had told Locke the previous day.
"I sent you a photo and some prints," Locke said into the phone. "Let's get an ID on this guy."
There was a slight pause before Aiden's answer. Aiden had gone deaf five years ago from meningitis. Aiden had seen Locke signing at an engineering conference and introduced himself, and Locke ended up recruiting the Irishman to Gordian. One of the toys Aiden had, courtesy of another Gordian contract, was a speech-to-text translator. Since his deafness hadn't affected his ability to speak, it allowed him to talk on the phone with anybody. The only drawback was the milliseconds required for the software to convert the spoken words on the phone to printed words on his computer.
"Opening the photo now," Aiden replied in a thick brogue. "Good lord! He looks like he's had a few pints too many."
"He's dead. Tried to turn us into flambe." Locke gave him the quick summary of the day's events.
"Sounds dreadfully boring," Aiden deadpanned.
"Yeah, it's been a real yawner here."
"I don't suppose your dead ninja wannabe had a wallet on him."
"No, but he had an ex-military vibe. I'd start there."
Because of the work Gordian did with the FBI and the military-investigating plane crashes, evaluating new weaponry, assessing terrorist threats on infrastructure targets--the company had access to confidential databases not available to many other companies. Like Locke, Aiden had a top military clearance.
"And see if you can find out whether there was a Lurssen or Westport yacht in the area today. Eighty-footer. It's got to be connected."
"Can't be too many of those cruising the North Atlantic."
"Now what's this about Coleman?" Locke asked. "You left me hanging."
"Right. I was all ready to blow your mind, but you took the air out of my plan."
"You said he was dead. When?"
"Three weeks ago."
"How?" Like Gordian, Coleman's company was based in Seattle. Locke was sure it had been front-page news there, but he had been on the road for the past month and hadn't read any newspapers.
"You're going to love this," Aiden said. "An explosion. Seems he and three of his top engineers were consulting on a demolition project. An electrical short detonated the dynamite early. All four were turned into hamburger."
Another coincidence. Locke didn't like it.
"Have Jenny set up an appointment for me tomorrow afternoon with whoever is left at Coleman's company. I want to get more details about this supposed 'accident' when I get back to Seattle."
"So you're not going to be working on the Rex Hayden crash?"
Locke frowned at the mention of Hayden's name. "What crash?"
"Forgot you were out of the loop out there. Hayden's plane took a dirt bath outside Vegas. No survivors."
"When?"
"Yesterday afternoon. Weird stuff. Plane turned back from a flight to Hawaii, overshot LA, and ran out of fuel over the Mojave. It's been all over the news. You'd think the president's plane went down. Then again, Hayden's probably more famous than the president."
It couldn't be a fluke that Hayden was the name Sam Watson said to Dilara before he died.
"Gordian won the NTSB investigation contract," Aiden said. "Judy Hodge got there yesterday with her team, but I figured Miles would want you on the case because it's so high profile."
It didn't surprise Locke that Miles Benson, the president of Gordian and the smartest man Locke had ever met, had already been contacted to help with the investigation. Gordian had consulted with the National Transportation Safety Board on many of the highest-profile plane crashes of the past ten years-TWA flight 800, the American Airlines crash
"I sent you a photo and some prints," Locke said into the phone. "Let's get an ID on this guy."
There was a slight pause before Aiden's answer. Aiden had gone deaf five years ago from meningitis. Aiden had seen Locke signing at an engineering conference and introduced himself, and Locke ended up recruiting the Irishman to Gordian. One of the toys Aiden had, courtesy of another Gordian contract, was a speech-to-text translator. Since his deafness hadn't affected his ability to speak, it allowed him to talk on the phone with anybody. The only drawback was the milliseconds required for the software to convert the spoken words on the phone to printed words on his computer.
"Opening the photo now," Aiden replied in a thick brogue. "Good lord! He looks like he's had a few pints too many."
"He's dead. Tried to turn us into flambe." Locke gave him the quick summary of the day's events.
"Sounds dreadfully boring," Aiden deadpanned.
"Yeah, it's been a real yawner here."
"I don't suppose your dead ninja wannabe had a wallet on him."
"No, but he had an ex-military vibe. I'd start there."
Because of the work Gordian did with the FBI and the military-investigating plane crashes, evaluating new weaponry, assessing terrorist threats on infrastructure targets--the company had access to confidential databases not available to many other companies. Like Locke, Aiden had a top military clearance.
"And see if you can find out whether there was a Lurssen or Westport yacht in the area today. Eighty-footer. It's got to be connected."
"Can't be too many of those cruising the North Atlantic."
"Now what's this about Coleman?" Locke asked. "You left me hanging."
"Right. I was all ready to blow your mind, but you took the air out of my plan."
"You said he was dead. When?"
"Three weeks ago."
"How?" Like Gordian, Coleman's company was based in Seattle. Locke was sure it had been front-page news there, but he had been on the road for the past month and hadn't read any newspapers.
"You're going to love this," Aiden said. "An explosion. Seems he and three of his top engineers were consulting on a demolition project. An electrical short detonated the dynamite early. All four were turned into hamburger."
Another coincidence. Locke didn't like it.
"Have Jenny set up an appointment for me tomorrow afternoon with whoever is left at Coleman's company. I want to get more details about this supposed 'accident' when I get back to Seattle."
"So you're not going to be working on the Rex Hayden crash?"
Locke frowned at the mention of Hayden's name. "What crash?"
"Forgot you were out of the loop out there. Hayden's plane took a dirt bath outside Vegas. No survivors."
"When?"
"Yesterday afternoon. Weird stuff. Plane turned back from a flight to Hawaii, overshot LA, and ran out of fuel over the Mojave. It's been all over the news. You'd think the president's plane went down. Then again, Hayden's probably more famous than the president."
It couldn't be a fluke that Hayden was the name Sam Watson said to Dilara before he died.
"Gordian won the NTSB investigation contract," Aiden said. "Judy Hodge got there yesterday with her team, but I figured Miles would want you on the case because it's so high profile."
It didn't surprise Locke that Miles Benson, the president of Gordian and the smartest man Locke had ever met, had already been contacted to help with the investigation. Gordian had consulted with the National Transportation Safety Board on many of the highest-profile plane crashes of the past ten years-TWA flight 800, the American Airlines crash
Similar Books
