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impossible man. She moved to the counter and furiously jotted down a classified phone number. She ripped the sheet from the pad and held it out to Henry. “This number is for the Operations room of the Defense Intelligence Agency. Once you’re convinced I’m not calling CNN, hand me the phone, and let me find the goddamn airplane!”
    “Do it.” Henry snatched the paper from Lauren’s hand and passed it to Glen, all the while keeping his eyes locked with Lauren’s.
    Glen moved to a phone and moments later put his hand over the receiver. “It’s who she said it would be.”
    Henry motioned for her to take the call.
    “This is Dr. McKenna.” Lauren pictured the Operations room at the DIA and the elite team of operatives always on duty in front of a multitude of display screens. The world’s most sophisticated space-based intelligence platforms could be called up at a moment’s notice. “To whom am I speaking?”
    “Lauren, it’s Steven. Where are you? What in the world is going on?”
    “Steven. I have an emergency in progress. Please get Director Reynolds.”
    “What?” Steve stammered for a second as the gravity of Lauren’s request sunk in. “Hang on. I’m notifying the Director now; I’m sure he’ll be here in a moment. Are you okay?”
    “No, Steven, I’m not.” Lauren had worked closely with Steven for years. He was what she often described as a techno-nerd—but he was very good at what he did.
    “What can I do?” Steven asked as soon as he’d put out the call for the Director. “We know he’ll authorize whatever you want. Where do you want me to start?”
    “I’m in Chicago.” A small sense of balance and stability flowed through Lauren as she switched into scientist mode. She could easily picture Steven, hands poised over one of several keyboards spread out before him. He would be bathed in the soft glow from a bank of high-resolution screens that displayed highly classified satellite reconnaissance information. Once the Director gave his blessing, Steven could instantly pull up data from any government source that currently existed.
    “Lauren, it’s Calvin,” came a winded voice. “What’s going on and how can I help?”
    “It’s Donovan.” Lauren battled another bout of tears. She was touched that her friends at the DIA were so quick to come to her aid. Calvin was one of her biggest champions at the DIA—almost a father figure. He was a slender, graceful man, who always came to work in his trademark tie and suspenders, one of a handful of civilians who headed up divisions at the DIA. His piercing, hawk-like gaze displayed a keen intellect and was backed up by a commanding demeanor. Calvin was easily one of the brightest men Lauren had ever met. Calvin and Donovan knew each other, and though the two strong-willed men had locked horns at first, they had eventually developed a mutual respect for each other. “He’s on a commercial flight traveling from Dulles to Chicago,” Lauren continued. “I was talking to him when I lost the connection. His last words were that there was another plane and it’s a possibility that they collided. I’m in Wayfarer Airlines Operations and they’ve lost contact with the flight as well. Can you help us find them?”
    “I need an approximate position and airplane type.” Calvin replied immediately.
    “Donovan told me they were less than an hour out of O’Hare. I don’t know what kind of plane.” Lauren looked up at the expectant faces around her.
    “Boeing 737,” Henry answered.
    “It’s a Boeing 737,” Lauren repeated.
    “Got it,” Calvin replied. “I take it they don’t have any idea if these planes actually collided or if they’re still flying?”
    “None at all.” Lauren felt her emotions waver at the grave tone of Calvin’s voice.
    “I think we can find them, but it’s going to take a little maneuvering at this end. I want to talk to the CIA and employ their resources as well.”
    “I understand.” Lauren knew