A million and one things had to go right – and each at the right time. Miracle odds. It made getting lucky six times to win a poker tournament seem a ridiculously simple task, and – as always – by the time they were over Lexington and the truly great farms, Tom felt both poverty-stricken and inadequate.
Thank God, Kentucky passed quickly and he could rebuild his self-esteem over West Virginia, as the dirt-poor coal-mining towns passed miserably below.
*
‘Tom!’ Pete’s PA, Kitty Rees, was obviously surprised to see him – and not in a good way, Tom thought, when he saw her face.
He liked Kitty. She’d been with Pete since joining at the age of twenty-two, ten years before, and she and Tom had sort of grown into their jobs together. They’d even fooled around once after getting drunk at the only office Christmas party he’d ever attended. It hadn’t been much – her hand up his shirt, his hand high on her thigh, and an exchange of alcohol-flavoured saliva, Rolling Rock and white rum. He always thought of Kitty when he tasted rum, but that was the only legacy of a long-gone incident. For a while they’d been sheepish around each other, then Tom had snapped out of it and helped her do the same. ‘What the hell, Kitty?’ he’d told her. ‘No one’s going to blame you for being unable to resist me.’ They’d both laughed and gone back to being friends.
But now she didn’t seem happy to see him.
‘Don’t worry, Kitty, I’m not here to make a scene.’
‘I didn’t think you—’
‘Yeah, you did.’
She hesitated, then admitted, ‘Yeah, I did.’
They smiled.
‘Pete in?’
By way of an answer, Kitty got up and tapped lightly on his door before opening it and speaking quietly. Tom noticed she’d put on a little weight, but it suited her. She turned round and caught him looking. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You think I look fat?’
‘I think you look sexy as hell.’
She gave a mock-frown. ‘You’re so going to get sued one of these days.’
‘Or laid, I’m hoping.’
Kitty smiled. She didn’t look like she was about to call any lawyers. ‘Go on in.’ As he passed her she looked at him properly for the first time and said accusingly, ‘You lost weight?’
‘God’s a man, Kitty. Suck it up.’
She punched his arm.
Pete got up as Tom came in, and shook his hand.
‘Hi, Pete.’
‘Good to see you, Tom.’
Silence.
It had been months since they’d seen each other. Anyone else, and Pete would have expected some mild chit-chat – ‘How are you, Pete?’; ‘How’s Ann?’; ‘How long to retirement now, Pete?’ He sighed and knew that Tom Patrick was not the man to make those enquiries.
He indicated a chair and Tom threw himself into it. The silence stretched between them. Pete felt irritation rising. He knew he’d have to kick things off, even if it was Tom who’d flown all the way across the country to see him. The guy didn’t have a socially adept bone in his lanky body.
‘What’s up, Tom?’
Tom ran his hand nervously up the back of his neck and Pete knew it was coming – whatever Tom Patrick couldn’t say on the phone. As usual, once he decided to get in the pool, Tom went straight off the high board …
‘That LAX cargo plane. You happy with Munro’s findings?’
Pete frowned. He’d expected a back-and-forth about the state of Tom Patrick’s non-career, an attempt to barter his way back in – even a resignation speech – but this was out of left field.
‘Camel pack pulled into the engine? Yeah, sure.’
‘C’mon, Pete! They fire frozen turkeys at these fuckers in type approval and they don’t come apart like that. Munro didn’t find any evidence of the pack in the compressor or turbine.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe the guy kept his Zippo in the pack. That’d make a dent. But based on surrounding evidence, the disturbance causing the disintegration of the compressor, it’s a sound conclusion.’
‘It’s circumstantial at best,’ said Tom.
Pete leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s why they call it probable cause.’ When Tom didn’t smile at his NTSB humour, he asked, ‘Why?’
Tom paused. ‘I don’t know. Just a hunch.’
‘Care to share?’
Tom looked as embarrassed as he ever did. ‘It’s very … hunchy.’
Pete prepared himself. ‘Hunch away.’
