Free Fall. Rick Mofina

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      “Sloane, you weren’t here when this story broke.”

      “I was.”

      “You weren’t. You’d left the scanner room unattended to get scones. Where’s the news assistant, where’s Penny?”

      “Her shift ended.”

      “Penny and I were both in this room when I caught the dispatches from Forty-nine Ninety. You weren’t here.”

      “I was here, Kate, when I heard the dispatches—”

      “What you heard—when you came back—was the aftermath!”

      “I was here! Look, I’m trying to be diplomatic but the truth is you were trying to hijack my story.”

      “Bullsh—”

      “What’s going on?” Reeka stood behind Kate.

      “I told you, Reeka, Sloane was not at the scanners when the story broke and he’s inserted incorrect information into the story I filed.”

      “What’s incorrect?”

      “His unnamed sources said turbulence was the problem. It was not turbulence. It was a malfunction.”

      “What kind of malfunction?”

      “I don’t know.”

      Reeka looked at Sloane then at Kate.

      “He has impeccable sources in the airline industry. Who’s your source that contradicts his?”

      “The pilot.”

      “You interviewed the pilot?” Reeka asked.

      “No, it came over the scanner. There was static but I heard the crew say it was not turbulence, it was a malfunction.”

      Reeka looked to Sloane.

      “Did you hear anything like that?”

      He shook his head.

      “He wasn’t here!” Kate said.

      “Kate, do you have an on-the-record source confirming it was a malfunction? The NTSB? EastCloud? Any official?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Kate,” Reeka said, “we all know that the information we hear on police radios can often be wrong, especially with first reports. When I arrived Sloane was at his post and he had everything in hand.”

      “Oh my God.” Kate shook her head in disbelief.

      “What?” Reeka asked.

      “You actually believe him. He’s trying to downplay this story while taking credit for it and being wrong about it. He lied and you believe him. This could hurt Newslead.”

      “Excuse me,” Sloane said. “I take umbrage at your accusation, particularly after you tried to secure overtime by hijacking a call I was handling.”

      Fury burned through Kate and as she battled to restrain herself she glimpsed the plastic trash can holding a white crumpled take-out bag. She retrieved it and flattened it out. The bag was from Miss Muffet’s Café & Cakes and had “Sloane” scrawled on it in marker. A receipt was stapled to it. Kate circled the date and time of purchase.

      Then she took a picture with her phone.

      “What’re you doing?” Reeka asked, as if Kate had lost her mind.

      Sloane shook his head.

      “This looks like yours, right? You’re the only Sloane in the room,” Kate said, scrolling on her phone, holding it out for Sloane and Reeka to see a text concerning Flight 4990. “And this is the timeline from LaGuardia, proof that when the plane was in trouble, you were at Miss Muffet’s buying scones. Proof that you lied.”

      Sloane glared at Kate, saying nothing.

      “I think,” Reeka said, “given the circumstances, everybody needs to take a breath here.” A long, uneasy moment passed before she continued. “Kate, if you can stay to help update the story, I’ll authorize your overtime. Sloane, I’m assigning you to tie up loose ends and follow up the story tomorrow. We’ll get the night desk to monitor for developments and top off with any updates. Okay?”

      Reeka looked to Kate then Sloane before concluding.

      “As for what happened here—we’ll talk later and sort out what appears to be a misunderstanding. Is everybody clear?”

      “Crystalline,” Sloane said.

      Kate said nothing, and left the room.

      * * *

      Misunderstanding.

      Kate fumed as she worked at her desk.

      There’s no misunderstanding. I caught Sloane failing at his job and lying about it. And Reeka protects him. This is how the one percenters get ahead.

      One thing had been hammered home: Sloane was not to be trusted. That guy was not a reporter—he was somebody’s favor. It was dangerous for Kate and for Newslead but she had to shove it all aside and get on with her work.

      She went back to her subway feature and was nearly finished when she received a text from EastCloud. The airline had just issued a news release on Flight 4990.

      The flight encountered an as-yet-undefined situation on its approach into New York and 28 passengers and 2 flight attendants received injuries ranging from fractures and concussions, to minor cuts and bruising, to nausea. All were evaluated by paramedics at the airport and were transported to area hospitals for observation as a precaution. None of the injuries are considered life-threatening or critical at this time. EastCloud will work closely with the National Transportation Safety Board to determine the nature of this incident. The aircraft will be taken out of service during the investigation.

      As Kate digested EastCloud’s statement, she tapped her finger on her desk. “An as-yet-undefined situation.” What was that supposed to mean? Kate began flipping through her notes from the scanner, looking for the original comments the crew had made.

      New York Center had clearly asked 4990 if it was citing turbulence.

      The crew’s response: Negative on turbulence. We had a malfunction.

      Kate’s phone rang.

      “Paul Murther, spokesperson with the NTSB.”

      “Paul, what happened on EastCloud Forty-nine Ninety? Why did it declare an emergency?”

      “We can’t speculate on that. All we can say at this time is that we’re gathering all the details. We’re looking at the severity of the injuries and for any damage to the aircraft. We’ll analyze the flight data.”

      “Was it turbulence or a malfunction?”

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