TOTAL CONTROL By: David Baldacci

Kaplan nodded. “I’ll bet you a dinner that’s what we find, Lee.

The fuel tanks are of an aluminum alloy structure consisting of the

front and rear spars and the top and bottom of the wings. The thickness

of the walls varies around the structure. A number of acids will eat

right through a soft alloy metal like that.”

“Okay, acid; but, depending on when it was applied, it was probably

slow-acting, to let the plane get up in the air, right?”

Kaplan answered immediately. “Right. The transponder continually sends

the plane’s altitude to air traffic control, so we know the plane had

reached its cruising altitude shortly before the explosion.”

Sawyer continued his line of thought. “Tank gets pierced at some point

during the flight. You got jet fuel spilling out. Highly flammable,

highly explosive. So what ignited it? Maybe the engine wasn’t on fire,

but how about just the standard hear thrown off from the engine?”

“No way. You know how cold it is at thirty-five thousand feet?

It’d make Alaska feel like the Sahara. Besides, the engine housing and

coolant systems pretty much dissipate the heat thrown off from the

engine. And any heat it does generate sure as hell ain’t gonna end up

inside the wing. Remember you got a damn fuel tank in there. It’s

pretty well insulated. On top of that, if you got a fuel leak, because

of the plane’s airspeed, the fuel will flow backward and not toward the

front of the wing and below, where the engine is located.

No, if I were inclined to take down a plane this way, no way would I

count on engine heat being my detonator. I’d want something a lot more

reliable.”

Sawyer had a sudden thought. “If there was a leak, wouldn’t it be

contained?”

“In some sections of the fuel tank the answer to that would be yes.

In other areas, including where we got this hole, the answer is no.”

“Well, if it went down like you say–and right now i’m inclined to think

you’re right, George–we’re going to have to focus on everybody who had

access to that aircraft at least twenty-four hours before its final

flight. We’re going to need to go easy. It looks to be an insider, so

the last thing we need is to spook him. If anybody else is involved in

this, I want every last sonofabitch.”

Sawyer and Kaplan walked back to their cars. Kaplan looked over at the

FBI agent. “You seemed to accept my sabotage theory pretty readily,

Lee.”

Sawyer was aware of one fact that made the bombing theory infinitely

more plausible. “It’ll need to be substantiated,” he replied without

looking at the NTSB man. “But, yeah, I think you’re right.

I was pretty sure it was that as soon as the wing was found.”

“Why the hell would someone do that? I mean, I can understand

terrorists taking out an international flight, but this was a

plain-vanilla domestic. I just don’t get it.”

As Kaplan was about to get into his car, Sawyer leaned on the door. “It

might make sense if you wanted to kill someone in. particular, in a

spectacular fashion.”

Kaplan stared at the agent. “Down an entire plane to get to one guy?

Who the hell was on that thing?”

“Does the name Arthur Lieberman ring any bells?” the FBI agent asked

quietly.

Kaplan searched his brain but came up empty. “Sounds damn familiar, but

I can’t place it.”

“Well, if you were an investment banker or stockbroker, or a congressman

on the Joint Economic Committee, you’d know. Actually, he’s the most

powerful person in America, maybe the entire world.”

“I thought the most powerful person in America was the president.”

Sawyer smiled grimly. “No. It’s Arthur Lieberman with the big S on his

chest.”

“Who the hell was he?”

“Arthur Lieberman was ‘the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board. Now

he’s a homicide victim along with a hundred and eighty others. And my

hunch is, he’s the only one they wanted to kill.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JASOn Archer had no idea where he was. The limo had seemed to

drive around for hours, he couldn’t be sure, and DePazza, or whoever the

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