A Head in Egypt

1

It was almost 6:00 o’clock on the morning of September 11th, and Travis was waiting at London’s Heathrow Airport for his flight back to New York. The bustle of activity all around him for the past 24 hours made him feel like an island in the midst of an ever-flowing stream. The people came and went, but he sat there like an eternal rock, weathering every storm that passed. He had endured a flock of gossiping women, who spoke in graphic terms about women’s problems as though he didn’t exist. He tried to tone out a crying kid, and the constant wailing of the kid’s dad, fussing at the kid’s mother, Can’t you do something with that brat! He had coffee spilled on him by a rushing executive who didn’t bother to apologize. He had been hit in the head with a soccer ball by two British kids, but at least they apologized. His over-sensitive nose picked up the unmistakable odor of urine from a Chinese lady, who apparently didn’t make it to the lady’s room in time. He had to change seats because an Ethiopian man wanted to engage him in a political discussion that he didn’t even understand. Travis wished he could sleep, but the last time he dozed off he missed a cheap seat to New York.

It was tough having to fly courier rate. Actually he didn’t have to do it, but he was trying to save a little money, and courier rate was almost free. The only catch was, he had to wait on a vacant seat going his way. He had been there almost 24 hours, and was still waiting. He was starting to feel that the $459 ticket price was not so unreasonable after all. But he was stubborn too. Stubborn and cheap. After the inconvenience of waiting 24 hours, he certainly wasn’t going to cave in and pay full price now! He would wait on his $39 special, thank you very much! He could think of a lot more worthwhile things to spend the extra 400 bucks on.

He was returning home from a job in Northern Germany, which had turned out to be a very routine and boring little job. The crash of a crop duster. Witnesses said that after making his final pass (literally), the plane wobbled a bit, then made a hard right turn, that turned into a nose dive to the ground, which killed the pilot on impact. The investigation had lasted only about six hours, and that included conducting a lot of tests that were not really necessary. But they were tests required by the insurance company who had hired him, so he had to do them. There was no foul play involved. It was a simple matter of a broken steering cable, which prevented the pilot from righting the plane, and led to the ensuing crash. The cable was old and frayed. Apparently no preventive maintenance had been done on the plane in many years, or at least there was no record of it. This, in itself, was enough to void the insurance policy on the plane, so there would be no check in the mail for the plane’s owner. Most likely they would be cited for involuntary manslaughter, which would be perused by the German justice department, on behalf of the deceased. Unless, of course, the owner of the plane was also the pilot, which would make it a moot point.

But all that was for others to sort out. Travis’ only job was to determine the most likely cause of the crash, and verify that the crashed plane was indeed the same plane that had been insured. With those two things verified, his job was done. Now he just wanted to get back home to Alabama. He had been on the road for almost a month, pursuing one job after another, and now he was ready for a break.

He worked for Fly By Night Investigations, which was a company started 35 years ago, from the ground up, by a friend of his. Jim Deshler and his wife Helen, had started and run the business by themselves for 33 years before deciding to bow out and retire. But they didn’t want to see their business fold up, so Jim looked for someone who was smart, honest, hardworking, and motivated to take over for them, and continue the service. They had traveled with Travis a few times, and got to know him well. So in 1999, while on a trip to Italy, and learning that Travis had just been laid-off from the coal mine where he worked, Jim extended the invitation for Travis to come to work for him. Part time at first, then full time, after he saw that Travis could handle the job. The first year he worked closely with Jim, learning the ropes, but for the past year, he had been basically out on his own. Jim and Helen were simi-retired, but still ran the business from the office. Travis provided the actual leg-work of going out and investigating the crash sites, sending the raw data he gathered back to Jim and Helen at their North Carolina home office.

There was an announcement over the speaker. Will Mr. Travis Lee please come to the boarding desk at Gate 3? Travis Lee!

Hey, that’s me! He hurried up to the desk and was given a boarding pass, and told that he had a seat available on the flight that would begin boarding in 15 minutes. Finally, he was going to be heading home. He was getting his carry-on ready when his cell phone rang. It was Helen Deshler, Jim’s wife, who was also the dispatcher for Fly By Night Investigations. She had a thick Belgian accent.

Hello, Helen!

Where are you, Travis?

I am just about to board at Heathrow.

You are still there? I thought perhaps you were at home by now.

I sat here for almost 24 hours.

Mercy! Well, perhaps it is best, because I have another assignment for you.

You’re kidding! How big, and where?

A private plane crash in Central California. The pilot parachuted out, so there was no loss of life. The plane crashed in a parking lot and allegedly damaged a number of cars. You will have to determine the cause of crash, if it was the insured plane, and if so, the auto maker’s ID numbers from all the damaged vehicles.

Sounds like a quickie.

It should be. I know you want to be home this Friday, for your sons’ football game. This being Monday, I see no reason you should be there longer than necessary. You can make this investigation and still be home by Thursday.

Good! Yeah, I would like to see them play this Friday, since I missed their first two games.

I understand that.

Okay, make all the arrangements. My flight is about to start boarding for New York’s JFK. I’m on American Airlines flight 509, due in at 6:00 A.M. Eastern Time.

You will call me for your connecting flight information, when you get to New York?

Yes.

Good. Get some sleep during the transatlantic, because you will probably need it! Would you like me to call Janice for you?

No, I’ll call her myself. Thank you, Helen. I’ll talk to you in the morning from JFK.

Have a good flight. Remember, it is 11:00 P.M., Central time in Alabama.

He punched in his home phone number, and got Janice on the second ring.

Hello!

It’s me, Janice!

"My love! How are you? No, what I really want to know is, where are you, and when are you going to be home?"

I’m still in London, but my plane is boarding now. But Helen called about a crash in California, and they want me to cover it.

Oh no! So you won’t be home for their game Friday?

I should be. Helen is going to connect me straight to California from New York, so I should be through out there and back home by Thursday.

Well, good. But I was hoping to see you tomorrow!

Sorry about that. But hopefully I can be home awhile this time. I’m going to tell Jim I would like a week to rest up at home, if possible.

Don’t count on getting any rest here, Mister! You have been away too long!

Sounds like you have plans for me.

Oh yes, do I have plans!

Well, hold that thought until Thursday. I’ve got to go! I’m boarding right now. I love you! Goodbye!

He had to hurry to claim his seat on the plane. It was packed, and he was squeezed into the middle aisle between two fat men, which was just about what he expected. But he was too tired to complain. He put up his carry-on, and had to inconvenience one of the fat guys to let him in. He hoped he didn’t have to go to the bathroom before they made New York. He apologized, and squeezed in, just glad to have a seat, and being on his way.

It was a restless night aboard the plane. There was a lot of turbulence, and one of the fat guys groaned and farted all night, and Travis had nowhere to go for relief. The same guy nudged him and asked what time it was. This was a useless point to Travis, but he tried to keep his neighbors happy.

It is 3:45 in the morning, Eastern time.

No, I mean where we are right now. What time is it right here?

Well, in the first place, I have no idea where ‘here’ is. I don’t know how many time zones we have crossed, so I can’t give you an answer.

You’re not very smart are you?

Excuse me?

Anyone with half a brain should be able to figure out what time it is! You see, you calculate the distance we are traveling, our rate of speed, and how long we have been gone. Then we can pretty accurately figure our exact position over the ocean, and what time zone we are in, and therefore we can determine exactly what time it is right here!

There was a long silence, after which Travis informed the man, "Mister, my half a brain doesn’t care what time it is, and would like to get some sleep, if you don’t mind."

Feeling insulted, the man replied, Well, you don’t have to be nasty about it! I was just trying to pass the time!

"And speaking of passing, see if you can cut down on the volume of gas you are liberating as well! Mister, you have been gagging me!"

I second that motion! added a man from across the aisle.

Hear! Hear! said another.

Well, I don’t have to put up with this! The fat man buzzed the flight attendant. When she arrived, he asked her if he could please be seated somewhere else.

Is there a problem, sir?

Yes, I am being verbally abused here, and I demand another seat!

But there are no other seats. We are loaded to capacity. Is there something I can do to correct the problem?

I am being verbally abused because I am fat, and that is discrimination!

That’s a bunch of baloney! said the man across the aisle. He was pestering the man seated next to him, and he told him so, with no reference at all to his weight! He got angry, and the man next to him said something like, And by the way, try to hold back some of those stinking farts! And that’s when this man buzzed you! I’ve got to admit, I’m tired of him sneaking those things out too!

They’re silent, but deadly! added the man behind him. Travis was barely hearing all this, because he was fading off to sleep again. He did hear the stewardess say she was going to see if there was room in the first class section. She came back and asked the fat man if he would like to up-grade, and he jumped at the chance, and everyone was glad he did. He dragged his carry-on out of the overhead compartment, and then said before he left, I just have one thing to say to you rude people! At that, he hiked a leg and cut loose with a fart that made everyone groan, then he was gone.

That is a nasty individual! said a black woman seated in front of them.

Yeah, and they give somebody like that a first class seat!

I’m just glad he’s gone, Travis mumbled, and went back to sleep.

2

The plane was approaching the runway in New York when Travis woke up again. He noted that the sky was starting to lighten outside, as the day was catching up with them. It was 5:50 A.M., Eastern time.

As he walked like a zombie through the terminal toward the nearest flight information board, he phoned Helen Deshler, to get his connecting flight information.

You have an 8:40 departure to San Francisco, aboard United Airlines flight 93. Only one kink though. You are flying out from Newark International Airport.

Newark, as in New Jersey?

That’s right.

I didn’t even know Newark had a airport! Do I have time to get there from JFK?

Yes, I checked on it. They have a shuttle that runs every 15 minutes between Newark International and JFK. Getting there should be no problem. Just ask anyone at American Airlines about it. You should get there in plenty of time. Once in San Francisco, you will get a connecting flight up the coast to Eureka on a Trans-Western twin engine commuter. You should be in Eureka, California by noon, Pacific time.

Okay, sounds good. The tickets will be waiting for me at the United desk in Newark?

Yes, as usual, under the name Fly By Night Investigations. Good luck, Travis.

I’ll call you if I have any problems.

What could possibly go wrong, Travis thought. Everything fit into place.

While he had his phone out, he called Janice, to let her know where he was.

Good morning, Beautiful!

Good morning, Love! Where are you?

I just arrived in New York, but I’ll have to shuttle over to New Jersey to catch my flight to San Francisco.

Why?

Just because it was the first non-stop flight out. I’m on United Flight 93. Just thought I would call and let you know. What are the boys doing?

Calvin is about to catch the school bus.

That’s right, it is about that time, isn’t it. Well, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to hear your voice.

That was sweet of you! Okay, call me when you get to San Francisco.

Will do. Love you. Bye!

It was incredible how quickly the past year and a half had passed, since he had started working for FBN. He stayed so busy going from one job to another, in pursuit of the elusive dollar, that he was missing his kids growing up. Literally. He only saw Janice about once a month. He kept telling himself that if he continued working this way for five years, he could retire early and enjoy life. But by that time, his kids would be grown up and gone out into the world alone, and they would be strangers to him.

But what else could he do? He faced the same dilemma that faced most people, in that he had to decide between making a living, and securing his future, or having a daily influence in the lives of his children. He wanted to be there to help them solve problems. He wanted to watch them as they grew up, to see how they handled the challenges, hurdles and roadblocks of life. He wanted to help them avoid the mistakes he had made. But then he thought, I am what I am, because of the mistakes I made. They must do the same.

He had no checked luggage to claim, so he easily found the shuttle, and was bouncing along a turnpike headed toward Newark before he knew it. At Newark, he picked up his ticket, and headed for Gate 3, with plenty of time to make the 8:40 flight.

He took a seat in the terminal behind a group of black haired men, who looked to be Middle-Eastern. He leaned back in his seat to wait.

His sensitive nose picked up an unusual scent. No, actually it was more of an odor, and it was troubling. He immediately knew the men seated behind him were up to something.

You see, ever since Travis had been in elementary school, he had the uncanny ability to smell things that others could not. In retrospect, he thought it went back to a fight he got into with a hill-billy kid named Marvin McCorkle. Marvin only got in one lick, but it had been a good one. It broke his nose, and messed up his sinuses. His nose had been crooked ever since, as a reminder. But there was an added bonus, which he discovered after his nose healed. His sense of smell was actually better then it had been before, or at least it seemed so. He could smell very subtle things that he couldn’t before. Some of the things he smelled, he was unsure of where they came from, and he was often confused. He was intrigued by it, but like most kids his age, he didn’t let it bother him.

When Travis grew up, he was enticed by a sense of adventure, and joined the Army. He was promptly sent to Boot Camp for a crash course in warfare, which he found was as useless as teets on a boar hog once he got to Vietnam. At the time, it was a war unlike anything that American war planners had seen before. Realizing that he had made a mistake, he tried to contact his recruiter to file a complaint, but the guy never wrote back. In the meantime, Travis’ buddies were getting killed all around him on a daily basis.

In such primordial survival situations, soldiers have to dig down deep into their psyche and use any advantage they can to survive. Every sense they have is heightened, by necessity. That was when he realized that his heightened sense of smell could be useful.

Travis’ request for a transfer was misunderstood, and he found himself re-assigned to Special Forces, under the command of a Colonel Morgan. When Morgan found out he was a country boy from Alabama, he upgraded him to sniper, because, as Morgan put it, ‘every country boy from Alabama was raised with a gun in his hand, knows how to shoot’. Travis thought that being a sniper was going to be neat, and have an easy ride, until he found out just how deep into the ‘heavy shit’ he was going to be going. If he had only known! He thought about asking to be re-assigned again, but he’d already seen how far that had gotten him. Best to just do his job, and try to survive where he was. But he found that to do that, he had to utilize every sense he had to hone his stalking abilities, because one mistake, or miscalculation, and he was dead, or MIA, or both. He had to be ‘invisible’ in the jungle.

That was when he really took notice of his special gift. He learned that he could smell the VC before he could actually see them. This was probably due to their diet, hygiene, and close proximity to wood cooking fires. He also learned that there were smells that changed, as the person’s moods changed. This unusual ability had saved his life on more than one occasion, as it warned him of booby-traps, or stopped him from walking into an ambush.

In the years since the Vietnam War, he got married and settled down to a normal life, and noticed more things about his sense of smell. He learned that every emotion had a different smell. Love, hate, and jealousy were the easiest to identify, but he also learned to identify other emotional smells as well. Nervousness, tension, suspicion, boredom, indifference, all these things had distinct smells. Some were very subtle, while others were obvious. Some emotions were combinations of two or more smells, which created a new smell. He could tell by the smell, when someone was lying to him, or resented him, or even when someone was trying to convince him of something they were not sure of themselves.

Over the years he had made it one of his secretive hobbies to go more in-depth, and identify even more scents that people gave off, but there was a point at which he seemed to have reached his limit. For obvious reasons, he never told anyone about his special ability, not even his wife, Janice. He found it was too useful a tool to give it away. It could be a very useful thing, if no one knew he had it.

So as he sat in the airport with his back to these Middle-Eastern men, he started picking up strange smells from them. He knew it was much more than just poor hygiene, or what they had been eating. Though the men were not talking, Travis recognized that they were very tense, very nervous, and yet very excited. His conclusion was that these men were planning something very bold. Something that was dark and criminal.

He got up and walked over to the window. He pretended to be looking out the window, at the refueling of the plane, but actually he was watching them in the reflection of the glass. They were doing nothing but sitting there waiting. Travis had been suspicious of his fellow travelers before, but this was suspicion off the charts! These guys were planning something no-good, and he was sure of it. But what could he do? He decided on the direct approach. He walked around the rows of seats and went right up to them, engaging them in conversation.

Excuse me, guys. Are you waiting on flight 93 to San Francisco?

The two men looked up, startled. They looked at one another, then back at Travis, as though to say ‘why are you talking to us?’ Uninhibited, Travis continued.

I’m booked for flight 93. Is this flight 93?

One of the men finally spoke. Yes, this is flight 93. Can you not see the sign?

Oh yes! There it is! I see it now. Thanks a lot! So, you guys are going to San Francisco?

Who are you? the same one who spoke before asked.

Oh, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Travis Lee. I’m from Alabama. He held out his hand, but they made no effort to shake, so he continued, undeterred.

So, you guys are from another country?

Yes, another country.

First time in America?

Yes.

Here for a job?

Yes, a job.

The other man, who up till now had been silent, began speaking to his companion in a rapid-fire Arabic tongue, and there was a quick dialogue between the two, then the first man got back to him. My brother does not speak English. He wonders why you are talking to us. And I am wondering the same thing.

Well, being from the South, I am naturally just a neighborly kind of guy. I thought I would strike up a conversation and welcome you to the U.S.!

Thank you. Now please leave.

What nationality are you?

We are not Americans. Now please leave us!

I’ll bet you and your brother are coming over here to run a gas station, or a hotel, or something. Right?

The two men once again conversed in Arabic. It was obvious that the other man wanted nothing to do with this intrusive American, and wished that his brother would quit talking to him. The one who spoke English got back to him.

Are you an officer of Immigration?

No, nothing like that. I’m just curious.

Please take your curiosity somewhere else!

I am just trying to be friendly!

But I am not! Please go!

Travis knew these men were involved in something devious, and he didn’t want to get on a plane with them, that was for sure. So he decided to go out on a limb and force their hand. Almost whispering, he said to them,

I know what your plans are! I know what you are planning to do, and I just think you ought to know that it won’t work!

The English speaking man looked at him in disbelief, but said nothing. He mumbled something in Arabic to his brother, and his brother became stern and defiant. He spoke slowly and plainly in Arabic, but it meant nothing to Travis, because he didn’t understand a word. He knew he had clearly upset him. The one who spoke English got up and walked over to the departure desk, where he spoke briefly with the airline personnel, and the woman picked up the microphone and made a request for security to please report to Gate 3. Travis wondered what was going on. But it didn’t take long to find out. A golf cart-looking vehicle arrived with two security officers on board. They went directly to the desk, and the Arab pointed his way. The security men began headed toward him, as two more security officers arrived. Travis walked to meet them, as the Arab went to rejoin his brother. Travis got the distinct feeling that he had stirred up something, but he wasn’t sure what. The security men approached.

Sir, do you have a problem with these two Saudi men?

I sure do! I think they are up to something!

Please come with us over to the departure desk.

Okay, no problem. They were acting suspiciously.

Suspicious huh?

How do you mean, suspicious?

What did they say?

Travis realized this was going to be difficult. How do you convince the authorities that someone smells suspicious?

When they got to the desk, the security man told the attendant, He says he was suspicious of the Saudi men.

She turned to Travis. What made you suspicious?

Well, I just had this feeling. Sometimes I can just sense things, know what I mean?

The attendant looked at the security men, and they looked at him.

No, we don’t. Tell us what you mean.

Look, I have a strong suspicion that those two men are going to try something really bad after they get on that plane! Don’t ask me how I know! I just know! You need to question them! You might want to search their carry-on!

Sir, we already checked them, just like we checked you when you came into the terminal.

The attendant looked directly at Travis and spoke sternly. Those Saudi men have filed a complaint against you, claiming that you have been harassing them, and they do not feel safe with you on the same flight. Now, one thing we do not do here at American Airlines, is racially profile our passengers. He said that they feel that you are a Zionist radical, and have singled them out because they are Arabs, and they have requested that you be removed from this flight.

"What! I’m no Zionist, whatever that is! They want me thrown off the flight? It should be the other way around! Have you checked out these rag-heads? They are up to something, and it isn’t good!"

Sir, I must ask you to please avoid using derogatory words, and to keep your voice down! We don’t want to alarm the other passengers. Now, we have checked them out, and these men are respected Saudi Arabian citizens. Now, don’t get me wrong, we do appreciate your concern for the safety of our flights, but there is simply no evidence to support your fears that they might be dangerous.

I don’t care how they check out, they are up to something!

Look sir, we care about all our passengers, and if you are going to persist with this, then I will have no choice but to remove you from this flight. But I intend to arrange for you to get to San Francisco in time to make your connecting flight with no problem. Jamie, what are you coming up with?

We show a United Flight 106, leaving from JFK at 8:55 to San Francisco, and yes, they do have several seats available.

Okay, book Mr. Lee on that flight, and he will be on his way.

Wait a minute! You are throwing me off this flight, just because those Saudi men complained? I am an American! They are the foreigners!

Sir, we are just trying to run an efficient airline, and keep all our passengers happy.

But if you throw me off this flight, I won’t be happy!

I understand that, sir, but we will get you to San Francisco on time, and we will take care of getting you on a shuttle and over to JFK in an efficient manner…

But what about the inconvenience? Why not put the Arabs on a shuttle to JFK? Am I being discriminated against here, because I’m an American?

"No sir. The fact of the matter is, they complained about you, not the other way around."

So if I had complained about them first, then they would be the ones changing flights?

Yes sir, that’s the way it works. I’ll tell you what I can do. I can give you a voucher for a free ticket on United Airlines, if that will help smooth this over?

So you think you can bribe me into being happy?

It’s a round-trip ticket to anywhere United flies, within the continental U.S.

Okay, it works for me.

One moment and we can have your voucher for you, then we will shuttle you right over to JFK.

This is crazy! I still feel discriminated against! It’s a good thing I didn’t have a checked bag, or this would be more complicated.

That would have been no problem either, sir. You would have your baggage claim stub, so you would just take it to the United Flight 93 baggage claim conveyor and pick it up when you get to San Francisco. It should be right beside the United Flight 106 baggage claim. Now here is your free ticket voucher, sir. I hope you have a nice flight.

So I am good to go?

Yes! Security will take you directly to the shuttle, and security at JFK will be waiting to take you directly to flight gate 10. It will be close, but I can request that they hold the flight for you. And thank you for choosing to fly with United Airlines.

He saw the Saudi men smirking at him as he was led away. He glared at them, as he got on the golf cart, and was whisked out of the terminal through a service door, and driven across the tarmac to the shuttle area. They radioed ahead to be sure the shuttle was ready to go. He jumped on the shuttle and again bounced across town, and across the Hudson River to New York, and to JFK, where he was driven into the terminal on yet another golf cart, and arrived at United Gate 10, just as the last of the passengers were boarding. He showed his special transfer boarding pass, and was taken right on board. He was surprised at how quick and efficient it was, but then, airlines had a lot of experience at that, didn’t they?

He went down the aisle until he found his seat number. It was a window seat, already occupied by a very pretty girl in her early 20’s. As he was stowing his bag in the overhead compartment he said, Excuse me. I think that is my seat you are in, there by the window.

Oh, I’m sorry! This is my first time to fly. I wasn’t sure which seat was mine.

That’s okay. Listen, if this is your first time to fly, why don’t you keep the window seat. It’s neat to watch things on the ground getting smaller.

But you would probably rather have the window seat.

No, I’m good. I’ve flown hundreds of times. It doesn’t matter to me.

Thanks, I appreciate it! My name is Robin.

Hello Robin, I’m Travis.

Pleased to meet you, Travis!

He sat down with a sigh. I am so tired! I came from London last night, and I am probably going to sleep like a zombie!

"You came from London, England?"

Yeah, I think that’s where London is now, unless they moved it.

I would love to see England!

Well, as young as you are, I’m sure you’ll see it one day. I take that you don’t travel very much?

No, not much. The only reason I’m flying today is because my brother is getting married, and I want to be there. He lives in San Francisco.

So are you in his wedding?

No, everyone in his wedding party is male. Even the bride!

Travis almost wished he hadn’t asked. Well, San Francisco seems to be the right place for the wedding then. Is it even a legal marriage? I mean, I don’t think same-sex marriages are legal, even in California.

I don’t know about all that. But surely it must be legal, or else they wouldn’t permit it.

Well Hon, we are talking about California. I think anything goes out there.

What about you? Why are you going to San Francisco?

My job is taking me there. I’m an insurance investigator.

Oh.

That was the reaction he got from most people when he told them his profession. It seemed like a very boring profession, but actually it couldn’t be farther from the truth. But he was too tired to explain it to her. If she didn’t ask, he would let it lie right there.

I almost forgot! I need to call my boss before we take off. Excuse me. He pulled out his phone and called Helen Deshler, to tell her about his change of planes, because it might make a difference in his later plans.

Hello, Helen?

No, this is Jim, but I’ll still talk to you! Hello Travis! Is everything okay?

Well, sort of. I mean I have had a change of planes.

Were they over-booked?

No, not over-booked. I saw a couple suspicious characters waiting to get on, and I thought I would find out a little about them, but they took offense, and complained. The Airline asked me to take another flight.

You’ve got to be kidding!

Nope!

They threw you off the flight because you reported a safety concern? That’s outrageous!

The bad part was, these guys were Middle-Eastern, and were very nervous about something. I thought I had good reason to question them.

"The mistake you made was not going to the Airline yourself, and asking that they be put on another flight."

Yeah, I realize that now. Anyway, my new flight number is United 106, out of JFK at 8:55. It’s not direct either. We stop in Chicago.

They could have at least gotten you a direct flight! What is your ETA in San Francisco?

The ticket says 2:25, but that would be Pacific time, right?

Right, and that’s almost two hours later than the other flight we had you on. That is going to mess up your connecting flight to Eureka. I’ll call and make the correction though. Don’t worry about it. Call me from Chicago and I’ll have your new flight number.

Will do.

And another thing, Travis. I’ll try to get you some flying lessons in this coming month. You really do need to get your pilot’s license as soon as possible. It can be a valuable thing to have when you get out somewhere and need to rent a plane or chopper to reach a crash site.

I know, Jim. Maybe we can work it in. I’ll call you from Chicago. Travis put up his phone, but he didn’t intend to make the time for flying lessons. He liked to fly, but if there was one thing he cared nothing about, it was piloting a plane himself. He had tried that once, and crashed, so his track record wasn’t very good. He found that his depth perception was lacking when it came to trying to land. And a pilot who had trouble landing, had a short life expectancy. But he wasn’t worried about having flight lessons. As busy as they were right now, he couldn’t see flight lessons in his immediate future.

As he was putting up his phone, he saw the last four passengers getting on the plane. Four Middle-Eastern looking men. They looked toward coach, and then turned to go into the first class section. Travis just shook his head. You couldn’t even travel these days without having a few suspicious characters on board. Just enough to make him uneasy. It seemed like every time he had flown in the past couple years, there was a token Iranian passenger, with his wild eyes, and suspicious looks, causing any sane person to wonder, does he have a bomb in his carry-on? He knew he was just being paranoid. It was wrong to judge a book by its cover, or to racially profile someone based on looks alone. He realized that Robin was talking to him.

I’m sorry, what were you saying?

I just asked, what does an insurance investigator do?

We investigate insurance claims. In our case, we specialize in aviation related insurance claims. Like when an airplane or helicopter crashes, is stolen or damaged. My basic job is to verify that it was indeed the same plane that the carrier had insured. Sometimes I conduct tests to determine what caused a plane to crash. A small plane crashed yesterday near Eureka, California, so that’s where I am headed.

It sounds like an interesting job. Is that what you have always done?

No, I’ve just been in this for a couple of years now. I am retired from the military, and I worked 20 years in the coal mines in Alabama. When the mine closed, I thought I would try something more interesting. Besides, it pays well.

Retired from the military, and then 20 years in the coal mine! You must be ancient!

"Actually my military time was mostly in the reserves, after I got back from Vietnam, and ran concurrently with my mining years, so I’m not all that old. But I’m still old enough to be your dad!"

I’m sure you are. My Dad was in Vietnam too. At least that’s what my Mom says. He committed suicide when I was three years old.

Unfortunately, that happens a lot to Vietnam Vets.

What did you do in Vietnam?

I’d rather not get into all that.

The engines were revving up, and they pulled away from the terminal. She was glued to the window as they rolled down the runway.

We’re going awfully slow to be taking off!

We’re just getting into position at the end of the runway. When we take off, you’ll know it. The G force will plaster you back against your seat. This big plane has to get up to 150 mph in order to get off the ground.

Wow, I don’t think I have ever gone that fast!

Once we get up, our cruising speed will be about 650 mph.

Are you kidding me?

No, not kidding. Why do you think it is so much faster to fly? We’re at the end of the runway now. We have to wait our turn to take off. The flight tower will give the pilot the okay to go when the plane ahead of us is well out of the way.

We’re stopped.

Yes, we’re waiting on the word to go. It won’t be long. They are revving the engines up again.

We’re moving!

Here we go!

The plane bolted forward, throwing them back in their seats, as the