Beverly Municipal Airport, Beverley. Boston. 6.48am.

Johnson started her briefing. As the chopper accelerated up and got airborne.

"OK this is what we have so far. 82 dead people all killed the same way. There was something else. She paused looking down the passenger list.

"What is it?"

"There was three US marshals on the plane"

"Do we know why?"

"Not yet"

"Well they went to a lot of trouble to get this plane, there must have been something on it, something worth killing for. I want a full manifest, there's something missing from that plane and I want to know what it is"

The briefing over John looked out of the helicopter window to see the plane. From this height it looked quite peaceful just parked there in the middle of the deserted field . As they got closer the true extent of the mayhem surrounding the plane became apparent. CDC officers were coming down from the plane in full orange chemical suits. They called across to the waiting crowd of police officers. 

"It 's clear!"

They crossed under the cordon, he wanted to see it.

"Do we know which passenger survived yet?".

"What makes you think someone survived?" Johnson enquirer.

"Someone landed the plane, we know it wasn't the pilot"

"OK well". She paused "No not yet, I'm working on it" Johnson was frantically cross referencing the passenger list. Whilst trying to keep up with him. It was made even harder by the wind which occasionally whipped up the dust in to her face.

"What the hell were three US marshals doing on this flight"

"It may have been coincidence" Johnson's first thought.

"Yeah maybe, I would think that on any ordinary plane but this, I'm not so sure here".

John walked along the isle about half way down he suddenly stopped. His hand started bobbing up and down across the rows. 

The bodies in the main were sat in their seats. Some were half way out and the hostess lay face down in the middle of the isle.

Johnson came up the isle behind him. 

"Hey Rivers, try not to stand on anybody this time. 

He threw her a glance.

"What are you counting anyway?".

"Here! seat 21A"

"What is it, John?"

"This seat is empty, this was are perp"

Johnson thumbed through the passenger manifest.

"Mr Roger Smith"

"Original!"  John frowned.

"That's not his real name, I'd bet money on that!"

He looked across to Johnson. Johnson grabbed her phone and began dialling. 

"I'll get them to pull the airport surveillance, if we can get a face we can try to cross reference it with our database"

They conducted their search of the rest plane. They could not find what was missing.


The End

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