THE CALL FROM THE EL PASO Field Office came in at 5:45 Sunday afternoon. Dorothy Hogan forwarded it to Walter, then went into his office and watched his face grow pale as he listened to the report. Walter learned of the trail of blood in the hanger, and the bitter news that Ashley had disappeared. Staring down at his hands, Walter bent over and his eyes appeared moist. Dorothy tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder. "Get Johnson and Ramirez," he said, unable to look at her.
Earlier that day he had received the DNA reports confirming Abdullah al Jamal had perished in the Maljamar explosion and Bashir Hashim survived. Ashley had been right, Bashir was the surviving terrorist and now both were gone.
Bill and Mark ran into his office minutes later. "What's up?" Bill asked a bit out of breath. Walter, his expression now grim with anger, told them what he’d learned. "That madman Bashir has Ashley, and he's gone off in a plane registered to his address in El Paso."
Mark stood at attention. "Gone, what's that mean?"
"She tracked Bashir to a hangar at the El Paso airport where he had a plane stored. I have the tail number. There's blood on the floor of the hanger. The plane took off at 5:30."
Bill steadied himself against the doorframe. "If there's blood it has to be Ashley's, otherwise she'd have him in custody."
Walter tried to stay centered. "All they know is that Bashir contacted Clearance Control at 4:45, and the Tower cleared his plane for departure at 5:20. Fewer than thirty minutes ago."
Mark shook his head. "Can they track him?"
Walter looked at Bill who shrugged his shoulders and said, "There's a big FAA building over on Louisiana Boulevard, not far from here. We could call them."
Walter stood. "This needs a face to face. Let's go."
On their way out, he told Dorothy, "Call the FAA. Tell them we have an emergency and I’ll be there in minutes. Then call Director Delong. Fill him in on the situation. He’ll know what to do.”
"Yes, I know Delong’s secretary. I'll get through to him. Count on it."
CODY ROGERS, Director of the Albuquerque ATC Center got Dorothy's phone call. He left orders for the security guard at the entry gate to escort the FBI personnel to his office when they arrived. Ten minutes later, Walter Kent, Bill Johnson and Marcos Ramirez entered his office on the first floor of the building.
Rogers stood, introduced himself and offered his hand. "Some kind of problem?"
"Yes." Walter shook his hand, showed ID and made brief introductions. "This is what I can tell you. We have identified an armed terrorist flying an aircraft out of El Paso. This man kidnapped one of our agents. Our agent and many American lives are at risk–thousands, maybe more."
Cody Rogers gasped. "Are we talking another 9-11?"
"Not if we can stop him. We need to find that plane."
Rogers straightened. "We control airspace in this region. If he's in our system we'll find him. Can you identify the aircraft?"
"Yes. It's an old DC 3 with a tail number N-149L.
Rogers nodded. "Follow me, upstairs." He took the steps two at a time. When the others caught up, he took them into a dark cave-like room, put his finger to his lips to signal quiet, and then walked to a nearby corner to consult with a tall man wearing headphones. The man's badge read Floor Supervisor. After a brief conversation, the man moved into another room filled with rows of men and women staring intently at green illuminated radarscopes.
"That's Ryan Simpson," said Rogers to the FBI crew. "He's a good man. This center controls aircraft at low, high and ultrahigh altitudes. He will start with low and high targets. Given the age and type of aircraft that’s where it’ll be found." Rogers pointed to an alcove off the main room. "Stay there, I'm going to check Flight Services for a flight plan."
Rogers left them and disappeared into the semi-darkness of the control room. Minutes later he returned. "Flight Services has no flight plan on file for our aircraft. I've sent out an alert to all towers and approach control facilities in the region. They will be on the lookout for this aircraft."
Ramirez shook his head in disbelief. "Don't you know where all the planes are?"
"We control only aircraft we can identify and talk to. Sure we have safety rules, but if a pilot wants to fly blind to us, he or she can do it. Right now our DC 3 is only a blip with no ID on someone's radar screen. Mr. Kent, I'm going to call the National Airspace System in Virginia. They conduct traffic flow management for all flights occurring in the United States. The Command Center needs to know about this threat. Can you be more specific?"
Walter stared at Cody Rogers, who appeared to be a competent and sincere man. "That's top secret. Details must come from Edward Delong, FBI Director, but I can tell you this aircraft is armed with an explosive device capable of inflicting massive loss of life, if set off in a populated area."
"Thank you. That's what I needed to know." Rogers turned abruptly and dashed back into the darkened control room.
Walter Kent had no control over events confronting him. Powerless, he had to wait, hope, pray, and depend on others. He thought of Ashley and felt a lump in his throat. This can't be happening–not to my Ashley. Please. Not to Ashley.