“You’re referring to nitroglycerin, are you not? You think three points four ounces is enough to bring down a plane?” George questioned in an assertive tone.
“Son…” Cliff sighed. “First of all, the limit of liquid you’re referring to is per item and not per person. And second, you don’t need explosive oil to cause an explosion. Come to think of it, you could use oxygen, for example. You would have no trouble getting oxygen through security.”
“What do you mean by oxygen? As in the air we breathe?”
“Son…” Another sigh. “We breathe nitrogen, mixed with a little bit of oxygen, just to keep our flame going.” Cliff tapped his chest. “It’s the oxygen that burns, and if no oxygen is in the room, there can’t be a fire.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“I’m talking about pure oxygen,” Cliff said. “Trust me, it’s highly flammable, and when contained and exposed to sudden temperature change, it will explode. For example, one could cause an explosion by short-circuiting a cell phone battery.”
Oxygen?
Cliff cleared his throat. “TSA only looks for bottles with liquid in them. An empty water bottle filled with oxygen would easily pass through security. Come to think of it, if sealed properly, perhaps an entire carry-on could be filled with oxygen, and when passing through the x-ray, the carry-on would appear as empty. And it’s easy to start a fire on board the plane. You could simply stick a handkerchief down a bottle of booze and light it with a lighter. A few Molotov cocktails would set the entire plane on fire in no time. You’re permitted to bring a lighter with you on the plane, and they sell plenty of alcohol in the departure hall.” Cliff chuckled.
You can’t bring a lighter through security… Can you?
Cliff’s eyebrows plunged into another undesirable frown. “Come to think of it, you might as well just check in your luggage. All you need is something that ignites, or produces enough heat to start a fire. For example, you could alter the battery on a laptop, and then program the laptop to turn itself on once the plane is in the air. When the battery gets too hot, it’ll explode and ignite the oxygen. And there’s no limit to the size or volume of liquid items for checked baggage. You could easily hide explosive oil within other liquid bottles. An empty…” Cliff put his hands in the air and gesticulated air quotes. “…suitcase with a laptop, and a few bottles of liquid would do the trick.”
“That can’t be accurate,” George said in a brusque tone.
“Son…” the man said in a gloomy tone. “I know for a fact that alcohol burns, oxygen is highly flammable, and a defective battery can explode. So, what specifically don’t you agree with?”
I don’t agree with that outfit you’re wearing. Did you just tuck your pajamas down your pants and walk out the front door? Doesn’t your hallway have mirrors?
An awkward silence filled the room.
“But like I said, Mike. This isn’t terrorism,” Cliff added. “This is something else. Perhaps a person with a mental disorder, or someone with a personal vendetta.”
George thought his boss suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“Has Jeff fired anyone recently?” Cliff asked Mike.
“I don’t have that information,” Mike said hesitantly.
“Gentlemen, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here?” George blurted out. “I mean, shouldn’t we focus on our assignments, and instead let the authorities handle the investigation?”
CEO Michael Williams and security director Cliff both looked at him in annoyance. George felt as though he’d just interrupted his parents.
“Fair enough,” Mike eventually said. “Let’s get to work then.”
Mike suddenly stood up. Cliff looked surprised by the sudden gesture, but then hesitantly rose from his chair. Mike gestured to George to remain in his seat, and George assumed it was because of the planned press conference. But as soon as Cliff had left the conference room, his boss sat down in the chair next to George. The CEO swallowed once, and seemed to be hesitating as to what to say.
George began to feel nervous and thought that perhaps he was about to reprimanded for not getting to the crisis meeting fast enough. George was a very cautious driver; he always kept the speed limit, no matter what.
“I didn’t think it was appropriate to mention over the phone. I thought speaking in person would be better,” Mike finally said. “I heard about what happened to your sister, and I want to express my deepest concern, and assure you that she will be in my prayers.”
“Thank you, sir. My family and I appreciate your thoughts.”
“Call me Mike, please,” Mike said. “So, how is she?”
“She’s still in a coma.”
Another silence filled the room before George finally spoke.
“I’ll get started on that statement, and I’ll call a press conference as soon as possible.”
Both men rose to their feet. Then Michael Williams suddenly took a step closer to George and extended both his arms. At first, George imagined that his boss was about to approach him with a hug. But instead, Michael Williams put his hands, on top of George’s shoulders.
“I’ll pray for her,” Mike said, again expressing his intent.
13 BIGFOOT
Saturday morning
The wind had settled, and the few remaining leaves that had fought so persistently through the night grasping on to the remaining days of summer were finally at peace. The light rain and the thick clouds turned the surroundings of the lake gray and dull. Except for some small pieces of debris in the middle of the wide lake, no sign would alert someone that an airplane crash had ever taken place.
A large man stood at the top of the hillside and gazed down across the lake and the shore. Then he looked up toward the sky and moved his head methodically in each direction, back and forth.
“Any sign of the cavalry?” the woman who had introduced herself as Julie asked the large man.
The large man shook his head and then turned around and faced her.
“You weren’t exaggerating, were you?” Julie said. “You’re huge. Look at your arms. They look like they’ve been photoshopped.”
The large man frowned at Julie.
“You’ve heard of Photoshop, haven’t you?”
The large man kept frowning and shook his head slightly.
“Seriously? You never heard of Photoshop?” Julie’s eyebrows rose. “It’s a software program that allows you to alter a photo digitally. So one could pretend to have arms as big as yours, I mean.” Julie smiled. “It’s a compliment, Jack.”
“I think I understand what you mean,” the large man by the name of Jack said. “You should have seen me a few months ago when I was still lifting weights. I was a lot bigger back then.”
“Is that even possible?”
Jack kept staring at Julie.
“What?” Julie asked.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that… You know… Like when you talk to someone on the phone, and you imagine a face, but when you actually meet the person, the image doesn’t match,” Jack said hesitantly. “You know what I mean?”
“So how did you imagine me then?”
“Well, for starters, you look a lot younger than I imagined. You look closer to twenty, than thirty.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Jack.”
“And I pictured you with dark hair for some reason,” Jack added.
“What, I didn’t sound blonde enough to you? Is that a compliment or an insult?” Julie smiled.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just imagined I would have seen your bright hair last night. But on the other hand, I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me, and I’m as white as a ghost, and so is my shirt.” Jack kept staring at Julie. “Are you, all right? I noticed you have a bump on your forehead.”