FOUR

In the Colorado Rockies, Joshua Jordan and his wife, Abigail, had been riding their horses. Earlier that day they had taken the pass that wound through the tall pines and eventually ended at the barn near their log mansion. Now the ride was over, the horses had been stalled, and they were walking in the door of their massive retreat house. Both were wondering when they would hear from their daughter, Deborah, who was soon expected at the Denver airport.

Joshua migrated to the big family room, with its high-timbered crossbeams, and turned on the Internet television set. Then he took a few steps back and dropped into a cowhide chair. On the end table were pictures from his years in the Air Force, before he’d started his own defense-contracting company. One framed photo showed Joshua and a former president, shaking hands after his successful surveillance flight over Iran. Another showed him with several members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The third, his favorite, showed Abigail back when she practiced law with a D.C. firm; she was heading down the steps of the federal courthouse in Washington after arguing a case to the Court of Appeals — one of many she would win.

Suddenly, Joshua’s attention was drawn to the ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

NORTHERN AIR FLIGHT FROM CHICAGO CRASHES ON TAKEOFF. FEAR NO SURVIVORS. FLIGHTS FROM LAX AND NEW YORK TURNED BACK.

Joshua yelled to Abigail, who dashed into the room. Joshua pointed at the message that was still scrolling.

A look of panic came over Abigail’s face. “Flight numbers … what flight numbers?”

“They haven’t given any. What’s Deborah’s flight out of JFK? Where’d you write that down?” Abigail dashed to her study. Joshua was trying to make sense out of it.

Three flights in three parts of the country. One crashed. Two turned around. This is sounding terribly familiar …