The Last Number They Called

"Before that plane went missing, the last number every one of your coworkers dialed was yours." The cop laid the call records on the table in front of me.

I looked them over a few times. There wasn't a single missed call on my phone. Everyone at the company had disappeared along with the plane, on the way to a retreat overseas.

My visa hadn't come through, which made me the only one who wasn't on the plane.

The cop kept his eyes on me. "Your number is in every one of their call logs." "And on your phone, there's nothing. Not one." Chapter 1 A rare day off.

I surfaced out of sleep and checked the time. 3:05 p.m. Too early, really. Better to go back under and knock out all three of today's meals at six, when dinner came around.

Decision made. I dropped back onto the pillow. A second later, a hard knocking at the door ruined my perfect plan. I sighed and got up. I opened the door. And got a shock.

Several cops stood outside, grimfaced, staring me down. "Mr. Simon Merritt? We'd like to ask you about the disappearance of Flight XBD818." ???

I had no idea what he was talking about. "What? A plane went missing? I don't fly planes." The cop frowned, barely enough to see.

The young officer behind him piped up, loud. "Wipe the grin off your face. A disaster this big hits your coworkers and you've still got jokes.

If you ask me, you set the whole thing up." My head got foggier. I started to wonder if I'd actually gone back to sleep and this was the dream.

The lead detective waved the young officer down and turned to me. "Are you telling me you still don't know, Mr. Merritt? Your company chartered a plane for a retreat overseas.

It vanished completely over international waters." That hit me. "It's… they still haven't found it?" He shook his head. "Which is why we'd like to talk to you." I nodded and opened the door wider. "Come in, then.

I'll make you some tea. Oh — no tea. You want water, or the seasoning packet out of a cup of ramen?" Nobody had anything to say to that. "That won't be necessary.

We came to ask why you didn't go on this retreat." I shrugged, pulled a few bottles of water out of a cardboard box, and tossed them over. "Because my bank account got frozen.

I couldn't get statements, so my visa never came through." "We checked before we came. There's no court judgment against you, no lien, no levy.

So what's this freeze about?" "The company ran some transactions through my personal account a while back.

Large amounts in and out in a short window, so the bank's antimoneylaundering system froze it automatically." "Why would company transactions go through your account?" I shrugged again. "Management decided.

I'm just a guy on the payroll. Nobody asks me." "They wanted to use it. Was I going to say no?" The lead detective's face gave nothing away. The officer behind him was writing fast.

I pressed my lips together and asked a question of my own. "A plane going missing is a big deal.

Even if you set aside another country jamming the equipment, or some terror group hijacking it, the very least you'd do is pull in the charter operator to help you investigate.

So why come to me?

A regular guy who couldn't even get on the flight?" Chapter 2 While I said it I ran my eyes over the group of them, and added, "With a turnout like this?" The lead detective frowned, uncomfortable, and let the silence sit before he looked at me. "Because we pulled the call records for everyone who boarded.

Before that plane went missing, every single one of them dialed your number." That surprised me. "Aren't calls banned on planes?" He nodded. "They are.

Which is why we want to know what happened up there that made every last one of them call you. And it was those calls that scrambled the signal.

That plane dropped off ground radar completely." ??? I went back to the bedroom, got my phone, and went through it twice, carefully. "That's not possible.

I didn't get a single call." The young officer's pen stopped. He looked up at me.

The lead detective took my phone and scrolled the call log while he kept going. "How are things between you and your coworkers?

Anyone you had real trouble with?" I thought about it and answered straight. "Us?

We nod when we pass each other, we like each other's posts, the kind of thing that ends the day somebody quits. Real trouble, no.

Everybody's just there for a paycheck." The young officer let out a cold snort. "You're good at shoving it off on somebody else." "I'm not shoving anything off.

I'm stating facts." I spread my hands. "This retreat. Your boss made the call?" "Yeah. Mr. Hollis. Hank Hollis.

Banged on the conference table, said everybody had to go, said anyone who didn't would lose their yearend bonus.

If my account hadn't been frozen, you'd have one more name on your missing list." "Was there anything unusual about this retreat?" I frowned and thought. "If you're making me say something — a week before we left, the company switched travel agencies out of nowhere.

The new quote was supposedly half what the old one was, and Mr. Hollis bragged about it a few times in the staff meeting. I remember thinking, cheap is cheap for a reason.

And here we are." "These company transactions through your account. When exactly? How much?" "About three months ago.

In and out inside a week, close to eight hundred thousand dollars all together. It scared me enough that I almost called the police.

Then accounting told me we were passing something through for a client, that a personal account was better on taxes. What's a guy at my level supposed to say?

They tell me to do it, I do it." The lead detective gave me a long look, then nodded. "All right, Mr. Merritt. That's as far as we go today.

If anything else comes to you, call us anytime." I smiled and nodded. "Of course, of course.

Cooperating with the police is a citizen's duty." The young officer shut his notebook and muttered, "Cooperating?

More like orchestrating." I acted like I hadn't heard it and walked them to the door. The lead detective turned around with one last instruction. "Don't leave town for a while.

When we need you, we want you here right away." "No problem. This month I can't afford delivery, let alone a plane ticket." The second the door shut, the smile came off my face.

I leaned against the door and listened to their footsteps fade, then went back to the bedroom and picked up my phone to look at the news. [#1 Trending: #XBD818Missing] I tapped it.

Walltowall coverage.

Chapter 3 The official statement said the plane had vanished from radar entirely over international waters, and that search and rescue had launched and turned up nothing.

Down in the comments people were already saying the signal had fluctuated strangely in the last half hour before the plane went missing.

It looked like multiple phones had dialed at the same time, they said, and interfered with the aircraft's communications. Somebody higher up had a loose mouth. My phone buzzed.

A name came up on the screen: Trina. I picked up. She sounded wound tight. "Simon, did the police come see you?" "Just left." "They came to me too.

Asked a whole pile of questions about you." "What did you tell them?" "That I didn't know anything.

That your account was frozen so you couldn't go, and nothing else." She stopped, then lowered her voice. "But Simon, that thing of yours — I didn't say a word.

I don't think it stays buried much longer, though." I laughed a little. "It's fine. People were going to find out sooner or later." A few seconds of silence on her end.

When Trina spoke again there was a shake in her voice. "Do you — do you know something?

About the plane?" "I don't know any more than you do." "Then why aren't you scared at all?" I held the phone and watched the sky outside the window go dark, and didn't answer.

After I hung up, a text from an unknown number dropped down at the top of the screen. I opened it. [I know why you didn't go.

It was because of that person, wasn't it?] [Which person?] I wrote back. The other end went dead. Nothing after that. A few days later somebody knocked on my door again.

I put down my chopsticks, glanced at the bowl of instant noodles swelling on the table, and got up to answer. One man out there this time. The lead detective.

He had a manila envelope in one hand, and he looked at me with an eyebrow up. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Merritt.

Do you have a few minutes?" I stepped aside to let him in and moved a pile of jackets off the couch. "You eat yet? The instant noodles are breeding fast today.

I can spare you a bowl." He waved that off and sat on the edge of the couch, ignoring the joke. "We pulled your data from the carrier and went through where you've been lately.

Nothing out of order so far. So you're effectively cleared." I grinned at him. "Thank you kindly, Officer, clearing my name like that.

So what's this trip for?" His eyes settled on my face. "I'm here for personal reasons. Nothing to do with the case." "Oh?" Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "Simon Merritt.

Top five school in the country, straight through from undergrad to a doctorate, mechanics and materials. Your advisor was Dr.

Yamada, a member of the National Academy of Engineering. Seven firstauthor papers while you were there, all of them in the best journals in the field. Dr.

Yamada's favorite." He recited it flat, the way a kid recites something memorized for class. "You came out with offers from three national labs, plus a private lab that put three hundred thousand a year in front of you.

You took none of them. You went to the company you're at now. Small, bad benefits, low pay." He paused. "I checked. A month of your pay doesn't cover your rent.

People leave home for a big city because there's a future in it and money in it. You left home to pay for the privilege of working, with no future in sight. It confuses me.

What's it for?" I laughed a little. "It just felt right." His brow came down.

Chapter 4 "That simple?" "That simple." "It just felt right?" He let out a short, scornful laugh. "You think anything and everything can be brushed off with 'it just felt right'?" I nodded, smile unchanged. "Yes." He stared at me for a long time, long enough that I thought another question was coming, and then he stood up abruptly and walked to the door.

In the entryway he stopped, without turning around. "Mr. Merritt, there are too many coincidences stacked on you.

Twenty years working investigations, and I don't believe in that." The door banged shut. The living room went quiet again. The wind howled outside the window.

Labor Day had come and gone and the weather had turned. Even the warm wind had gone cold. I lowered myself onto the couch and looked down at the bowl of noodles.

The broth had gone cold through. The fat had set into a white film across the top. A perfectly good bowl of noodles, murdered and left out until it hit the bloat stage.

I wasn't even angry yet, and this cop had worked up more resentment than I had. I grumbled about it in my head.

His line was still going around in my ears. "You think anything and everything can be brushed off with 'it just felt right'?" I closed my eyes. Somebody had said it to me once, too.

I closed my eyes, and I could almost smell it, a faint trace of jasmine. But when I opened them, the place was empty. Just me.

A push notification came up from the news app. [Latest on the XBD818 disappearance: A salvage vessel has recovered a floating suitcase in international waters.

Its contents have been confirmed as belonging to a passenger on the missing flight.

A blurred symbol had been drawn inside the suitcase in blood, and investigators are still working to determine its meaning.] My hand clamped down on the phone. It buzzed again.

That unknown number. [Are you really not going to consider working with me?] I frowned and typed back. [Who exactly are you?] [You still haven't figured out who I am.

That's disappointing.] I ran through every person it could possibly be, fast