Free Vapor by David Meyer Page A

around the plane.
    “Don’t bother,” Beverly said. “There’s no door. And no windows either.”
    “Well, what about those missiles?” I asked. “They must’ve left a hole somewhere.”
    “We think they struck the opposite wing,” Graham said. “They didn’t completely destroy it, but did enough damage to force the landing.”
    “But there’s a hole, right?”
    Beverly nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s too high to reach. The same goes for the cockpit.”
    My gaze turned to Graham. His toolbox was clutched in his hands. “So, how do we get in there?”
    He hiked to the tail. A giant metal access panel, also painted a dull white, was positioned about a foot off the ground. He pounded a fist on the panel. “Through here.”
    For the next few minutes, we attacked the panel’s bolts and screws. One by one, they loosened.
    The wind picked up speed. The air felt unbearably hot and dry. I opened a water bottle and tipped it to my lips. But when I tried to drink, dirt particles swept inside the bottle, turning the liquid into mud. Disgusted, I spat out the muck and went back to work.
    As I loosened a bolt, I tried to make sense of the strange aircraft. From all appearances, the panel was the plane’s only access point. And yet, it had been sewed up tight from the outside.
    But why? Was someone trying to keep the pilot from exiting the aircraft?
    Graham removed the last bolt. Beverly yanked a metal handle. The panel swung open, revealing a darkened interior.
    She pulled it open a few more inches and hoisted herself into the plane. Soft clunking noises sounded out as she gained her footing.
    The wind gained even more speed as I helped Graham through the gap. I cast one final glance at the reliquary. It sat quietly on the flatbed, surrounded by the growing storm. I hated to leave it, but unfortunately, there was nothing else I could do to protect it.
    Dirt danced around me as I turned back to the hatch. Hacking loudly, I hoisted myself into the darkness.
    And into the unknown.

 
    Chapter 20
    “Amazing.” Ed Hooper tossed yet another file into the growing pile of paper surrounding his feet. “Simply amazing.”
    Leaning back in his cheap swivel chair, he rubbed his eyes. After leaving the White House, he’d returned to his tiny Washington, D.C. apartment. He’d sat down at his desk, a sturdy piece of furniture he’d picked up at a yard sale. With gusto, he’d thrown himself into the giant mounds of paperwork documenting the sad history of the Columbus Project.
    From every conceivable viewpoint, the Columbus Project had been a disaster of epic proportions. Over the course of eighteen months, approximately eighty billion dollars of financial support had been doled out to five hundred and twenty-four companies in the clean energy sector. Just two hundred and sixty-six companies, representing about half the total outlays, were still in business. And many of them were experiencing major financial difficulties.
    Fifty-two companies, entrusted with eight billion dollars of taxpayer monies, had declared bankruptcy. By itself, that was a staggering figure. But the real problem was the remaining two hundred and six companies.
    The fraudulent ones.
    Hooper shook his head. The theft was brilliant, especially in its simplicity. Although he wasn’t a computer expert, he had a pretty good idea of how it had happened. Someone had built a back door into the Columbus Project database. That person had proceeded to create hundreds of fabricated documents including basic eligibility applications, due diligence assessments, negotiated term sheets with agreed-upon milestones, signed contracts, follow-up progress reports, and payment records. The documents were added to the database and kept hidden until preprogrammed dates and times. Then they became part of the official record.
    Hooper picked up another file and quickly read through it. Submitted by FutureLights, a nonexistent company supposedly based out of California, it requested