Ground Stopped!

GROUND STOPPED!

by

Susan Egner

Ground Stopped! Copyright © 2013 by Susan Egner

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the author’s written permission.

Thank you for purchasing this Susan Egner eBook.

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Cover design by Mike Seale

If he has the Spirit of a Man, he will be ready to bite his own Flesh. ~ John Adams on the subject of human nature

From the Author

In the immediate aftermath of 9/11, politicians, news commentators, and the public in general repeatedly asked the question, "Are the enhanced security and surveillance measures put into place to guard against further acts of terrorism going to be the new normal?" As the 12th anniversary of the al Qaeda attack on the Twin Towers and Pentagon approaches, we can reasonably answer, yes, this is the new normal.

Technological advancements in the ability to monitor communications and collect data have advanced exponentially in the intervening years. New standards of privacy have been devised and revised and constantly debated in the halls of congress and in political capitals around the world. In America, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) is the agency principally charged with responsibility for coordinating with Homeland Security, the Central Intelligence Agency, and the National Security Administration to investigate terrorism, cyber crime, public corruption, organized crime, white-collar crime, violent crimes and civil rights violations. The FBI’s website prominently displays this message: Protect your family, your community, and the nation by helping the FBI.... Ground Stopped! is the first sequel to the popular Souls On Board in which flight attendant Casey Click once again joins with her three closest friends as they follow clues resulting from a file accidentally left on board Casey’s last flight—clues that lead to discovery of a series of deadly acts planned by al Qaeda terrorists.

I trust you will enjoy the read as much as I enjoyed researching and writing this story.

Dedicated to my remarkable children

List of Characters

Abdullah – courier from Pakistan

Adeel Sayeed – Basma and Nisreen’s paternal uncle; their mother’s brother-in-law

Aiqaz Sayeed – father of Akfal and Ajmal

Ajmal Sayeed – Akfal’s brother and Aiqaz’ son

Akfal Sayeed – Ajmal’s brother and Aiqaz’ son

Andrew – airline crew scheduling

Angie Daniels – manager of the Harvard campus bookstore

Arnold and Mary Lindehar – couple in Salt Lake City

Barb Henderson – Detroit gate agent

Basma Sayeed – Nisreen’s sister, a medical doctor

Bertie – Casey’s longtime friend

Bonnie Durand – Casey’s longtime friend

Casey Click – flight attendant

Chad Bennett – custodian at the Harvard campus bookstore

Cheryl – HCMC Hospital administrator’s assistant

FBI Agent Fortney

FBI Agent Greer

FBI Agent Krahl – Special Agent in Charge

FBI Agent Platt

FBI Agent Pup

FBI Agent Weinreich

First Officer (FO) Alan – airline co-pilot

Frank Winslow – Channel 5 news anchor

George Krahl – Agent Krahl’s brother, a farmer

Gretchen Norgaard – flight attendant

HCMC – Hennepin County Medical Center

Jack Soul – ghost of Casey’s college boyfriend; Vietnam casualty

Jannie Eckert – head nurse at HCMC

Jessie Wilcox – inflight manager

John – Bertie’s husband

Kit – Casey’s longtime friend

Lyndon Lund – Detroit-based airline employee; Adeel Sayeed’s handler

Mark – Bonnie Durand’s husband

Max – Casey’s husband

Nisreen Sayeed – Basma’s sister, an engineer

Table of Contents

Book Title

From the Author

List of Characters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

About Susan Egner

Other Susan Egner eBooks

Chapter One

Casey Click looked despairingly out her hotel window in Detroit. Her flight landed early and the crew was registered at the hotel by 7:00 in the evening, promising them a good night’s sleep before their 6:00 shuttle the next morning. However, not her alarm, the sound of a barking dog set by her granddaughter, but the ring of an incoming call had awakened her. She glanced at the number and easily recognized it as crew scheduling.

This is Casey, she answered.

It’s Andrew in crew scheduling to report that you’re ground stopped in Detroit.

Weather? she asked, climbing out of bed and crossing the room to the window. She opened the blackout curtains to see nothing but white.

Blizzard conditions, Casey. Ten to 12 inches expected. Stay put for now. We’ll call you when conditions change.

Okay, Andrew, thank you.

She climbed back into bed but when she snuggled into the pillow, found she was wide awake. Might as well make a cup of tea and read for a while. Maybe she’d get sleepy. She glanced at the clock. It was only 4:45. Her day could end up a long one and she didn’t need to be awake when she should be sleeping. She pulled a packet of decaffeinated tea from her flight bag.

As she sipped her tea, she opened her ebook, but she could not concentrate on the words. She kept thinking about what had occurred on the previous day’s flight. Shortly after landing in Detroit and once the passengers had all deplaned, she started the process of grooming the plane: crossing seatbelts; opening closed shades; checking for lost belongings in seatback pockets and overhead bins; and folding used blankets and collecting trash from seats, seatback pockets and the floor. She often wondered if people who left trash all over the place left the same debris when visiting someone’s home. This was littering, plain and simple, and rude: obviously the same people who threw trash out a car window or on the floor in a public place rather than show a little class and find a trashcan.

Once she had completed these tasks, she pulled her roller and flight bags from the overhead bin in preparation for catching the shuttle to the hotel. At that moment, the gate agent stuck her head in the aircraft door.

Have you finished grooming? she asked.

Yes, I’m just on my way out. The pilots are ahead of me.

Yes, I saw them leave the jet bridge.

Casey gritted her teeth. As a general rule, crew stayed together, often helping each other out so that everyone could leave at the same time. This crew was one of the rare few that had not connected. The captain was a middle-aged man already practicing the part for when he would become an old codger. The first officer, or FO, was very young, still green in many ways, and had nothing to say to his two older, to him much older, crew members.

Did you find anything when you groomed the aircraft? asked the gate agent, blocking her way on to the jet bridge.

Just the usual trash. I have newspapers from six cities, if you’re interested, as well as some trashy magazines. It’s always my lucky day when I find a copy of Southern Living.

Did that happen today? the agent said with an amused smile.

Not.

Well, I have a passenger out by the gate who says he left a folder onboard. He says it’s his divorce papers, said the agent, rolling her eyes heavenward.

I don’t think I could have missed that, said Casey.

Do you mind checking again before you get off?

Casey studied the agent for a minute, gave a sigh and nodded consent. Please tell the crew why I’m delayed.

Can’t. They’ve already left the gate.

Casey turned back toward the interior of the plane, leaving her bags in the galley. She hoped catering wouldn’t arrive before she was finished. She started checking seatback pockets and the floor beneath the seats. She should have asked the gate agent where the passenger had been sitting. That would have made the search a little easier.

However, it did not take long for her to find the missing folder shoved at the back of the seatback pocket, completely out of sight behind the complimentary magazine.

She pulled it out. Divorce was written in bold letters vertically down the folder cover. A stack of papers was secured by a clip at the top of the folder, but the surprising thing was what she found on top of the legal documents: a bundle of certified checks, each in the amount of $9 thousand. She started to walk out with the folder in hand when a thought, actually a voice in her head as she gathered her purse, coat and gloves, told her to place the folder in the back pouch of her roller bag.

When she stepped from the jet bridge into the terminal, she found a male gate agent but no waiting passenger.

Is Barb around?

I think she’s on break. Can I help you?

Seeing no passenger waiting for a divorce folder and not feeling comfortable giving a stack of certified checks to an agent who knew nothing about the circumstances of the missing folder, she replied, No, that’s okay, thanks. She didn’t think she would even have turned it over to Barb without proof that it would immediately be transferred into the hands of the waiting passenger. Instead, she rushed to meet up with her crew, hoping she had not missed the shuttle, which would have forced her to wait another 30 minutes. Luckily she found the crew loading their bags, and she rushed to join them.

We thought we had lost you, said the captain gruffly.

Passenger left something on board. I had to search for it.

Did you find it? said the first officer, his boyish face twisted with sarcastic curiosity.

Nope.

Typical. They can’t even keep up with their own stuff. Now it’s your responsibility to find it. Don’t see how you put up with these people everyday. I could never do your job. Or want it.

Actually, I find most passengers very nice and enjoyable to work with, if you overlook those who leave their trash.

There’s another flight attendant, said the captain, what is his name, Cal, I think, tells them the floor and seatback pockets are not trash cans and not to leave their trash there. It’s against company policy, but I must admit, it leaves a cleaner airplane.

With that, they boarded the shuttle for their hotel.

Chapter Two

Once in her hotel room, Casey examined the documents she had recovered from the aircraft in search of a name. The packet of papers was housed in a beige folder with only one word printed in all capital letters across the cover, DIVORCE. How odd, she thought. Did attorneys narrow down their files by case type? Seemed insensitive to the matter, in her opinion. She opened the folder to find a stack of papers written in a foreign language. The script was unrecognizable. Unlike French or Spanish that used the same alphabet as English, this was written with unfamiliar characters. Could it be Chinese or Japanese? Well, it didn’t matter. All she needed was a name that she could return it to, and even better that she could deny knowledge of the contents. A person’s divorce is personal. She flipped to the back page where names and contact information might be found.

As she did so, her phone rang.

Hello, she said softly, always a little unnerved on the rare occasions that her hotel phone rang, since calls from friends and family as well as crew scheduling always came to her cell phone.

Is this Casey Click?

Yes.

This is Barb Henderson, gate agent at Charlie 22, where your flight came in last night.

Yes, Barb, what can I do for you?

Did you search the entire aircraft for those documents last night?

"Yes, I did. When I came off the aircraft, you were no longer at the gate, nor was the passenger.

I had to run to the restroom. You should have waited.

Now Casey was starting to get her back up. Not only were you not there, but neither was the passenger.

Did you find the file?

No.

Then why did you care if the passenger wasn’t there?

I thought I could ask him some questions, including what seat he was in, maybe jog his memory. Perhaps he left it in the gate area before boarding the flight in DC?

Barb seemed to hesitate for a minute before answering. In a quiet voice, she said, He wasn’t at the gate? He left the gate after giving me such a hard time? I…I can’t…, she didn’t finish her statement.

Barb, is the plane still at the gate? You could certainly make another search.

No, it’s departed.

We were told it was terminated. Maybe it’s in the hangar.

I’ll check.

Casey waited for Barb to speak again; but when she didn’t, she said, Is there something else I can do for you?

Uh…nothing, I guess.

Barb, did you know the person who left them? Is that why you’re so concerned?

No, I didn’t…it’s just that…, she paused as if searching for words. Never mind, it’s probably nothing. Sorry I disturbed you.

Casey felt a momentary wave of guilt that she lied about finding the documents; but if she returned them to the rightful owner, surely that was the right step to take.

She searched through the documents, page by page. The only legal documents she’d ever seen were the closing document for the mortgage for their home. It was pretty much boilerplate, with correct names and dates dropped in. She thought that might be true for this document; but though she searched each page, she couldn’t find a single name. Not even the name of the law firm that had drawn up the document. Now what was she to do? Maybe Barb had a contact name and number. She should have asked.

She picked up the phone and called the gate where she had last talked to her, knowing that gate agents bounced around from gate to gate.

Charlie 22, answered a brusque male voice."

Is Barb still around?

Henderson?

Yes.

Naw, her shift just ended. She’s gone home.

Casey explained the reason for her call, hoping Barb had left contact information on a note at the gate.

Not finding anything, the voice said. Casey could hear the rustle of paper, a drawer opened and closed. Sorry, doesn’t look like she left any information. Must have gotten it taken care of.

Okay, thanks for your help.

However, Casey knew better since, she had the documents in question in her possession. She let out a tired sigh. She’d had a long, cold day; and the only thought that had kept her going was of the hotel hot tub waiting to be enjoyed. Fifteen minutes later, she was leaning back, eyes closed, absorbing the heat of the pulsing water. After the hot tub and a cup of soup in the hotel restaurant, she felt refreshed and called Max.

How’s it going? he asked.

Okay, I guess.

That doesn’t sound good. What’s up? She heard the deep concern in his voice and knew that the answer of nothing would not satisfy him.

Someone left what were supposed to be divorce papers on board the aircraft.

Supposed to be? You think differently?

They’re written in a foreign language. The only recognizable word, divorce, is printed on the cover of the folder. I can’t find a contact name or phone number anywhere.

Why not just turn them in and be done with it?

I would, except attached to the inside of the folder is a stack of certified checks. I can’t just turn that in and count on someone else’s discretion. It’s too tempting.

Why not take it to your superiors?

Same reason. I think I should find the original owners.

How are you going to do that if you can’t read the thing?

I’m not sure.

Are you done for the day?

Already in my hotel.

Take a hot tub. You’ll feel better.

Casey decided not to tell him she’d already done that before calling him.

Good idea. Thanks Max, I’ll see you tomorrow.

"Have a good night, honey. Miss you.

"Miss you, too. ‘Night. As Casey prepared for bed, she made a mental list of her options. One, turn the folder into the company; two, find the owner. She could talk to Barb again and see if she did, in fact, have a contact name; three, if not, then what?

Chapter Three

The next morning she called gate 22 at the Detroit airport.

Henderson, Barb answered.

Good morning, Barb, she said, and explained the reason for her call, still omitting the fact that she was in possession of the documents."

I do have contact information, but what good is it if we have nothing to report?

I guess it will give me closure. She wrote down the number and hung up. When she punched in the number, though, a computerized message announced that the number had been disconnected. Casey checked to be sure she had entered the number correctly. Well, that was odd. Now what was she supposed to do? Before she could decide, her cell phone rang.

Casey, it’s Bonnie.

Hi, what’s up?

I was wondering when you get home?

Tomorrow, why?

I need a fourth for bridge on Friday.

Bonnie, you know I hate bridge.

I know. I just thought I’d try.

Say, Bonnie, while I have you on the line, can I ask you something?

Sure.

Does your office offer translation services?

Absolutely. Pretty much a necessity in our global society. Why?

After requesting total confidentiality, Casey explained what had happened on her last flight.

How many checks?

I didn’t count them.

Count them and check the amounts of each. I’ll wait.

Painstakingly, Casey counted through the stiff checks.

If my count is correct, there are fifty, each for the same amount. Nine thousand.

Fifty? That’s close to a half million dollars. Where did the passenger’s trip originate?

He started with me in Washington, DC. Terminated in Detroit. At least I did.

Detroit’s a hub, right?

That’s right.

So the passenger could have been connecting with an international flight?

I suppose. What are you getting at?

First mistake, other than leaving the whole caboodle on your plane. Bringing that amount of money into or out of the country is a felony.

The law refers to cash, Bonnie.

Certified checks are cash. Did the passenger leave contact information when he reported the loss?

Yes, but when I called, the number had been disconnected.

Your hotel should have fax services. Fax it to me and I’ll get it translated. We can go from there.

Can you keep it confidential?

We’re in the business of confidential information, Casey. Fax it over.

Bonnie closed the conversation by coercing Casey into subbing at the bridge luncheon in exchange for translation services. Be that as it may, she felt better. Surely the translation would resolve the whole problem.

Chapter Four

On the final day of her four-day trip, Casey reported for the hotel shuttle at 7:00 in the morning. She had a flight back to Minneapolis, followed by a Rochester turn. She’d be home in time for a late lunch with Max.

She sat aboard the plane bound for Rochester, waiting for the next group of passengers. As she sipped a cup of tea, she wondered if Bonnie had any news. Checking her watch, she saw she had 20 minutes before boarding and turned on her phone, pushing number four for Bonnie’s speed dial number.

Casey, I’m in a meeting. Can I call you back in 10?

I board in twenty.

Okay, I’ll hurry, said Bonnie, and clicked off.

While Casey waited, she finished her tea and then prepared her equipment for the required safety demo. Ten minutes later a gate agent stuck her head in the door, Ready to board?

Bonnie had still not called. Reluctantly, Casey turned off her phone and prepared to greet boarding passengers. She would have to wait until she was on the way home from the airport to call Bonnie back. The 24-minute flight each way to Rochester was usually high maintenance. Many passengers were traveling to and from the Mayo Clinic, which quite often meant wheelchairs, as well as a variety of injured or ailing passengers. On top of that, besides a passenger with a small dog that needed water, she had three women in burqas accompanied by a middle eastern man in jeans and a baseball jacket. After the tragedy of 9/11, some passengers seemed to take notice of their presence. Of those who did, some spoke in hushed tones while others simply discontinued talking altogether.

On short flights, flight attendants were not required to conduct a beverage service, however, Casey liked serving her often times harried passengers. She offered water to the passengers, ending with the three women seated in the last row beside their male chaperone; and though she was curious as to how they drank with their head covering, she politely turned away. The older woman had only a slit to reveal her eyes, but the younger women’s face covering had larger openings, allowing Casey a glimpse at their surprisingly animated eyes. They seemed grateful for the water. One spoke perfect English and thanked her in a lively voice. Oh, how she would like to see the person behind that totally opaque, black veil.

She remembered similar feelings as a young girl whenever she encountered a nun in her habit, something rarely seen today. She had wondered then what was hidden behind all that cloth and what motivated a nun to choose that manner of dress. As an adult, she knew that these decisions were usually made as young adults, rarely as early childhood. She thought the wearing of burqas by Muslim women was a different matter, however: less a matter of choice and more a requirement in the more fundamental cultures. Out of curiosity, she planned on researching that question.

Casey stood at the entrance with the captain