her hair pulled up under a paper cap. She was dressed not for biological containment but for simple evidence preservation.
“That was pretty amazing, huh?” she said, greeting him.
“Yeah,” said Eph, his sheaf of airplane schematics under his arm. “Once in a lifetime.”
There was coffee set out on a table, but Eph instead plucked a chilling milk carton from its bowl of ice, tore it open, and emptied it down his throat. Ever since giving up liquor, Eph, like a calcium-hungry toddler, craved whole milk.
Nora said, “Still nothing here. The NTSB is pulling out the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder. I’m not sure why they think the black boxes will work when everything else on the airplane failed catastrophically, but I guess I admire their optimism. So far, technology has gotten us exactly nowhere. We’re twenty hours in now, and this thing is still wide open.”
Nora was perhaps the only person he had ever known who worked better and smarter through emotion rather than the other way around. “Anyone been through the inside of the plane since the bodies came out?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet.”
Eph carried his schematics up the wheeled stairs and into the aircraft. The seats were all empty now, and the lighting inside was normal. The only other difference from Eph’s and Nora’s perspective was that they were no longer sealed inside contact suits. All five senses were available to them now.
Eph said, “You smell that?”
Nora did. “What is it?”
“Ammonia. That’s part of it.”
“And… phosphorous?” The odor made her wince. “Is this what knocked them out?”
“No. The plane is clean for gas. But…” He was looking around—looking around for something they could not see. “Nora, go get the Luma wands, would you?”
While she went back out for them, Eph went throughout the cabin closing the window shades, as they had been the night before, darkening the cabin.
Nora returned with two Luma light wands that emitted a black light, similar to the one used on amusement park rides, that made laundered white cotton glow spectrally. Eph remembered Zack’s ninth birthday party at a “cosmic” bowling alley, and how every time Zack smiled, the boy’s teeth shone bright white.
They switched on the lights, and immediately the dark cabin was transformed into a crazy swirl of colors, a massive staining all throughout the floor and over the seats, leaving dark outlines of where the passengers had been.
Nora said, “Oh my God…”
Some of the glowing substance even coated the ceiling in a splashed-out pattern.
“It’s not blood,” said Eph, overwhelmed by the sight. Looking through to the aft cabin was like staring into a Jackson Pollock painting. “It’s some sort of biological matter.”
“Whatever it is, it’s sprayed all over the place. Like something exploded. But from where?”
“From here. From right where we are standing.” He knelt down, examining the carpet, the smell more pungent there. “We need to sample this and test it.”
“You think?” said Nora.
He stood again, still amazed. “Look at this.” He showed her a page of the airplane schematics. It diagrammed emergency rescue access for the Boeing 777 series. “See this shaded module at the front of the plane?”
She did. “It looks like a flight of stairs.”
“Right in back of the cockpit.”
“What’s ‘OFCRA’ stand for?”
Eph walked down to the galley before the cockpit door. Those very initials were printed on a wall panel there.
“Overhead flight crew rest area,” said Eph. “Standard on these long-distance big birds.”
Nora looked at him. “Did anybody check up here?”
Eph said, “I know we didn’t.”
He reached down and turned a handle recessed in the wall, pulling open the panel. A trifolding door revealed narrow, curving steps leading up into the dark.
“Oh, shit,” said Nora.
Eph played his Luma lamp up the stairs. “I take it that means you want me to go first.”
“Wait. Let’s get somebody else.”
“No. They won’t know what to look for.”
“Do we?”
Eph ignored that, and climbed the tight, curling stairs.
The upper compartment was tight, low-ceilinged. There were no windows. The Luma lights were better suited for forensic examination than indoor illumination.
Inside the first module, they made out two side-by-side business-class-size seats folded down. Behind these were two inclined bunks, also side by side, not much larger than a crawl space. The dark light showed both modules to be empty.
It also, however, showed more of the same multicolored mess they had discovered below. On the floor and tracked over the seats and one of the bunks. But here it was smudged, almost as though tracked in while still wet.
Nora said, “What the hell?”
The ammonia smell was here as well—and something else. A pungent odor.
Nora noticed it too, bringing the back of her hand beneath her nostrils. “What is it?”
Eph stood almost doubled over under the low ceiling between the two chairs. He was trying to put a word to it. “Like earthworms,” he said. “Used to dig them up as kids. Cut them in half in order to watch each section wriggle away. Their smell was earth, the cold soil they crawled through.”
Eph ran his black light over the walls and floors, scouring the chamber. He was about to give up when he noticed something behind Nora’s paper booties.
“Nora, don’t move,” said Eph.
He leaned to one side for a better angle on the carpeted floor behind her, Nora frozen as though she were about to trip a land mine.
A small clump of soil lay on the patterned carpet. No more than a few grams of dirt, a trace amount, richly black.
Nora said, “Is that what I think it is?”
Eph said, “The cabinet.”
They climbed back down the outside stairs to the area of the hangar reserved for cargo, where food-service carts were now being opened and inspected. Eph and Nora scanned the piles of luggage, the golf bags, the kayak.
The black wooden cabinet was gone. The space it had previously occupied, on the edge of the tarpaulin, was bare.
“Someone must have moved it,” said Eph, still looking. He walked away a few steps, scanning the rest of the hangar. “Couldn’t have gotten far.”
Nora’s eyes were blazing. “They are just starting to go through all this stuff. Nothing’s been taken out yet.”
Eph said, “This one thing was.”
“This is a secure site, Eph. That thing was what, about eight by four by three? It weighed a few hundred pounds. Would have taken four men to carry it.”
“Exactly. So somebody knows where it is.”
They went to the duty officer manning the hangar door, the keeper of the site log. The young man consulted his master list, a time log of everyone’s and everything’s entrances and exits. “Nothing here,” he said.
Eph sensed Nora’s objection rising and spoke before she could. “How long have you been here—standing right here?”
