Flames licked up towards the stars. In the orange glow, men swarmed around, shouting at each other as they tried to fight the blaze. The siren whined across the entire base, only adding to the air of chaos.
Keeping low, Dennison raced away from the activity towards the eastern perimeter fence. Kaitlin clutched Conor around his waist, urging him on.
At the fence, Dennison yanked back a rip in the chain-link so that Kaitlin and Conor could scramble through, then he eased behind them.
Further out across the snowy landscape, two snow-mobiles gleamed under the light of the moon. A figure paced around them, keeping warm. As they neared, the waiting individual threw up their arms and ran towards them. It was Rory, bundled up in the thickest Arctic-wear Kaitlin had ever seen.
‘I thought you were dead,’ he gasped, throwing his arms around her and lifting her off the ground.
Kaitlin prised herself free and said, ‘This is Conor.’
Rory stared for a moment, then threw his arms around her brother, too.
‘Sorry,’ he blustered. ‘I get emotional at times like this. I’d convinced myself I’d never see you again. We were at the hotel and the military were searching for us, so we knew they’d be on to you, too. We slipped out by the skin of our teeth, hired these things’—he waved a gloved hand at the snowmobiles— ‘and got out here as quick as we could. Thank the Lord for Jim. I’d probably be halfway to the North Pole by now if it was down to me.’
‘Enough jibber-jabber,’ Dennison snapped. ‘We need to put this godforsaken frozen waste of a country behind us.’
The icy landscape blurred past. Kaitlin clung onto Dennison as the snowmobile roared towards civilisation. It wasn’t long before they were on the flight out that Rory had booked for them, heading towards Montreal, where they’d change for JFK.
Dennison nursed a bourbon, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, lost to his thoughts. Kaitlin prayed he’d find some relief now he had the news that his daughter was still alive. But he’d proved himself many times over. He’d even somehow sourced a fake passport for Conor.
Conor sat between Rory and her. He was staring into space, still trying to come to terms with freedom after so long in captivity. Most of the time he seemed dazed, as if he were emerging from being drugged. His skin was pale and he was far thinner than the last time she had seen him. His dark hair was thick and overgrown, and his eyes carried a haunted look that made her heart ache for him.
More than anything, she’d wanted to call her parents to tell them Conor was alive – it seemed cruel not to do it immediately. But they had to get away fast. And she knew her mom and dad would want to talk to Conor, but in his current state, he wasn’t up to it. It would only worry them.
‘We need to get Conor in front of the media as soon as we can,’ Rory was saying. ‘That’s the only way we’re going to save our necks. Because if we thought they were coming after us hard before, we ain’t seen nothing yet.’
Conor jolted from his stupor. ‘I don’t want to answer any more questions. Please, Kaitlin.’
She grabbed his hand. ‘Look at me, Conor. Look into my eyes. Remember when we were on holiday in Louisiana with Mom and Dad when we were kids and we weren’t supposed to go into the swimming hole. Neither of us could swim yet, but we snuck out anyway, and then I fell in. And we thought there was an alligator in there, but it was just a tree trunk.
‘We were afraid to scream for help because we knew Mom and Dad would be angry. And we had to work together, you and me, to get out of that pool. We did it together. Do you remember, Kait and Conor, that we could always—’
‘Finish each other’s sentences?’
‘We’re going to get through this together, too. Do you trust me?’
Conor hesitated for a moment and Kaitlin’s heart broke at the thought of all he’d endured. Then he smiled at her weakly and nodded.
Rory leaned back in his seat and sighed. ‘Well, that’s the first bridge crossed. Getting the media to take this seriously may be a tad daunting, what with the whole White Matchmaker debacle and me being a ludicrously unreliable informant, mocked from sea to shining sea.’
‘Leave that to me,’ Kaitlin said.
Rory cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t question her. It seemed he trusted her, too.
Closing her eyes, Kaitlin pushed her head back and drifted with her thoughts. As the tension and fear ebbed away, she felt an unfocused anger begin to burn. After months of study, no evidence of a biological weapon had been found. The survivors all professed their innocence and hadn’t shown any signs of sickness, yet their freedom had been taken away with no recourse to any justice. Their loved ones had been denied any knowledge of them, left to suffer in grief.
And in the end, it all seemed to have spun off from a series of coincidences. An ailing evangelist. The kind of people who had chosen to be on that flight. Random events that suggested meaning, connections.
Worried people had put two and two together and got five – and all of those on Flight 702 and their families had paid the price.
The flames of that anger fanned higher. The injustice. The unnecessary suffering. She’d fought so hard and for so long to uncover the truth. She wasn’t going to turn away now, whatever the risks that lay ahead.
The moment they were back on American soil, that crippling tension returned. Kaitlin found herself peering into every face she passed, weighing up whether they were a potential threat.
‘We don’t have much time,’ Dennison said when they emerged from JFK into the chill morning air. ‘There will be red flags going up across numerous systems. They’ll be coming for us soon enough.’
They split up in three Ubers to try to throw off any pursuit: Dennison in one, Rory in another, and Kaitlin and Conor in the third. It wasn’t long before they were heading into Downtown Manhattan. At a building on Vesey Street, just east of Rockefeller Park, Dennison waited in the lobby to keep watch while the rest of them travelled up to the twenty-first floor and a bright modern office with clear views of Jersey across the water.
They were ushered into a side office, where Rory paced relentlessly. Kaitlin clutched Conor’s hand, giving it a squeeze. When the door swung open, Kaitlin jumped to her feet.
‘So, it is you,’ Valarie Vennix said as she walked in. The New York Magazine investigations reporter looked around at the people waiting to meet her, bemused.
‘I need your help,’ Kaitlin blurted. ‘I’ve got a big story, bigger than the human trafficking one.’
‘And that was huge. That whole ring is staring at serious jail time.’
‘We’re in a lot of danger. This one has to be done quickly or you probably won’t see us again.’
‘I can move quickly.’ Valarie eyed Rory. ‘Hang on a second, don’t I know you?’
Rory held up his hands. ‘Just pretend I’m not here. This is all Kaitlin – and Conor.’
Valarie’s eyes narrowed. She was starting to make the right connections, Kaitlin could see.
‘That’s right. This is about Flight 702,’ Kaitlin said. ‘My brother was on board. As you can see, he’s alive. So are many of the other passengers.’
‘It didn’t crash in the ocean?’ Valarie said.
Kaitlin rested a hand on her brother’s shoulder. ‘Everything you’ve been told about Flight 702 is a lie.’
The New York Magazine photographer moved around the studio, snapping Kaitlin and Conor as they perched on chairs opposite Valarie. The sound recordist checked the levels while the cameramen adjusted the focus ready for the broadcast to begin.
‘A live stream is definitely the way to go,’ Valarie said. ‘We can reach a global audience instantly. Much harder for anyone to shut it down.’ She smiled at Conor. ‘You ready to be our cover boy for this weekend’s magazine?’
‘Not really.’ He looked exhausted as he shifted in his seat, his mouth twisted as if he’d swallowed sour milk. ‘But Kaitlin says it’s got to be done. So …’ He shrugged.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Valarie comforted. She turned to Kaitlin. ‘Before we start, I just want to say you’ve done an amazing thing here. The courage. The diligence. That relentless pursuit of justice. Ever thought about being an investigative journalist?’
‘Not really.’
‘You should. After this, you can write your own ticket.’
‘I didn’t think about anything big. I just wanted to find out about Conor. That’s all.
‘That’s all?’ Valarie grinned. She turned back to the technicians. ‘OK, guys, you ready? Let’s do this.’
Kaitlin felt a weight lift from her shoulders. After so long, it was almost over.
‘Hello, I’m Valarie Vennix and I’m here reporting live from New York City with Kaitlin Le and her brother, Conor. In this exclusive story, we’re going to reveal to you a shocking tale of corruption and cover-up that implicates some of the most important people involved in the defence of the US.
‘This is the story of Flight 702, the lost flight that vanished somewhere over the Atlantic. A devastating tragedy with a mystery at its heart. One that was supposed to have been solved when wreckage was found in the ocean.
‘But it was all a lie. Many of the passengers are still alive. And Conor Le is living proof of that. Conor, tell me your story.’