Night Fall

He thought a moment, then replied, “No heavy lifting. I miss the people I worked with, but basically I make my own hours, and the pay is good. Sometimes, though, it gets slow. You know, we should be doing more background checks on more people. You get these bozos at airport security, for instance, and they have an important job, but they get paid shit, and half of them are potential security risks.”

I replied, “Spoken like a true civilian contract agent who’s looking for more hours to bill.”

He smiled and said, “I bill by the case, not the hour. And seriously, things have to tighten up in this country.”

I informed him, “We’re living in a country that has been blessed by a lot of good luck and two oceans.”

“I got news for you. The luck is running out, and the oceans don’t mean shit anymore.”

“You may be right.”

The little old lady came over, and Dick ordered coffee and an ashtray.

He lit a cigarette and said, “So, what can I do for you? You looking to get into this kind of work? I can put you in touch with the right guy.”

We both knew that I didn’t ask him to meet me on short notice to talk about a job, but it was a good story if it ever came up later. I replied, “Yeah. Sounds like something I’d like to do.”

His coffee came. He sipped, smoked, and gave me a quick description of his work so I could sound intelligent if someone asked me about it while I was attached to a polygraph machine.

Under the category of “What else did you talk about?” I said to him, “Let me get to the point. I need some information about TWA 800.”

He didn’t reply.

I continued, “I’m not on the case, and as you know, I never was. Kate, as you do know, was on the case, but she’s not talking to me. No one who’s in the ATTF is going to talk to me, and I don’t want to talk to them. You’re an old friend and a civilian, so I want you to talk to me.”

He stayed silent awhile, then replied, “I depend on the Federal government for my bread and butter.”

“Yeah, me, too. So, let’s talk ex-cop to ex-cop.”

“John, don’t do this to me. Or to yourself.”

“Let me worry about myself, Dick. As for you, you know I’d never give you up.”

“I know that. But… I signed a statement-”

“Fuck the statement. They closed the case. You can talk.”

He didn’t reply.

“Look, Dick, we go back a long way. Let’s make believe we never heard of the FBI or the Anti-Terrorist Task Force. I’m working a case on my own time, and I need your help.” Actually, I was on government time today, but it all balances out.

He stared into his coffee awhile, then asked, “What do you care about this case?”

“I went to the memorial service yesterday. I was very moved. Also, a guy introduced himself to me-Liam Griffith. You know him?”

He nodded.

“He asked too many questions about why I was there. So, I got curious.”

“That’s not a good reason to stick your nose into this. Look, this case has fucked up more people in more government agencies than you know. The veterans who got out alive don’t want to go back there. Some FNGs- fucking new guys-like you, think they want to see what it’s all about. You don’t want to do that. Leave it alone.”

“I’ve already decided not to leave it alone. I’m at the next stage where I’m asking questions.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got about a week before the guys on the twenty-eighth floor start askingyou questions.”

“I understand that. Not a problem. But thanks for your concern. Okay, I just thought you’d give me a little help. I understand.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to meet Kate for lunch.”

He also glanced at his watch and lit another cigarette.

Neither of us spoke for a minute, then Dick said, “First, let me say this-I donot believe a missile was fired at that aircraft, and I donot believe there was an official cover-up or conspiracy. But what did happen is that the case got off on the wrong foot. It was politically charged from the beginning. People who hated Clinton wanted to believe that terrorists were responsible and that the administration was covering it up because they didn’t have the balls to admit to a security lapse or the balls to respond to an attack.”

“I know that. I wasn’t on the case, but I read the Post.”

He forced a smile and continued, “Beyond that, you had the FBI being totally arrogant-pushing around the NTSB people and even the Navy and the Coast Guard, and the local police, and that led to a lot of bad feelings and bruised egos, and that led to a lot of whispered rumors about cover-up, missing evidence, bad investigation techniques, and you name it. Then the CIA got involved, and I don’t have to tell you how many red flags that raised. Basically, this case was a round-robin fucking contest at every level. Add to that the victims’ families and the news media, and you’ve got a situation that gets people hurt and angry. Bottom line, though, everyone got their shit together, and the investigation reached the right conclusion.” He said, “It was an accident.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“Then why is the case still too hot to even talk about five years later?”

“I just told you-everyone’s pissed at everyone else. Everyone is very defensive about the methods used to get to the conclusion. The only cover-up has to do with people covering their own asses and covering for a lot of mistakes.”

“So, in other words, no one had anything to hide-they just needed some time to get their stories straight.”

He smiled and replied, “Yeah, something like that.”

I asked, “Why were there so many CIA people on the case?”

He shrugged. “I guess because at first it looked like an attack from a foreign enemy. That’s the CIA’s job. Right?”

“Right. Why’d they make that stupid film?”

“I don’t know. I never understood that. Don’t read too much into that.”

“Okay. The problem, as I see it, aside from all the aforementioned government turf battles and screw-ups, is the eyewitnesses. I mean, without the eyewitnesses, everything that was reconstructed in the Calverton hangar and tested in the labs would be the final word on how that aircraft exploded and crashed. Right?”

Dick played with his spoon awhile, then said, “Right.”

“You interviewed witnesses. Right?”

“Right.”

“How many?”

“Ten.”

“How many saw the streak of light?”

“Six.”

“And you concluded… what?”

He looked at me and said, “I concluded that all six believed they saw something rise into the sky-a streak of light-and that this streak of light was traveling toward the vicinity of the aircraft, which subsequently exploded.”

“How does that fit into the accidental explosion of the center fuel tank?”

He replied, “Look, John, I’ve been through this a dozen times with the FBI and CIA guys, and a hundred times in my mind, and…” He smiled. “… about ten times with my wife. What do you want me to tell you? That the accidental explosion is bullshit? I’m not going to say that. I really think the evidence is there for the short circuit that touched off the fuel vapors.”

“Right. But if you back it up, what caused the short circuit?”

“A frayed wire.”

“Or maybe a kinetic missile passing through the air-conditioning units.”

“I won’t even go there.”