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question the reasons that Donovan was even on the airliner in the first place. Their usual mode of transportation was aboard one of Eco-Watch’s Gulfstream jets. She, Donovan and Michael Ross had just finished the acceptance flights on the new Gulfstream in Dallas. The Galileo II had been delivered less than a week ago. It was a hurried replacement for the first Galileo that was now lying at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. The plan had been to drop her off in Chicago, and then Donovan and Michael were to fly on to Dulles. She was supposed to travel home on a commercial flight after the conference. But upon landing at Midway Airport, the new airplane had lost a hydraulic pump. With the jet grounded, Donovan had flown back to Washington to take care of some Eco-Watch business. Lauren choked back her tears. If the Galileo II hadn’t been grounded, it would be her on a commercial flight from Chicago to Washington. Donovan would be waiting for her there—none of this would be happening.
    “Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?”
    Lauren turned and discovered an elderly gentleman with kind eyes standing next to her.
    “Yes,” Lauren lied. “Thank you. I just needed to stop for a moment.”
    “These airports are so confusing, plus they make us walk awfully far sometimes. Which way are you headed?”
    “I’m fine. Really, I’m just going up to the Wayfarer ticket counter. I know the way. It’s not much further.”
    “Okay, I hope your flight isn’t affected by the weather. Have a good day.”
    Lauren watched as the man shuffled away. She forced herself to start walking until she located the escalators that would take her up into terminal three. As she neared the top of the rise, the noise level began to increase steadily. Five steps before the end and she could finally see across the large, high-ceilinged room. To her horror, hundreds of people stood, queued in lines that snaked back and forth across the tiled floor. It would take her forever to reach the Wayfarer ticket agents. Frantically, Lauren scanned the crowd for someone who might help her.
    Through the crowd Lauren spotted a Wayfarer agent. The woman stood, unsmiling next to the entry point to one of the impossibly long lines. She seemed to be answering questions while directing passengers to different lines. Lauren could hear the woman’s voice carry above the fray. Lauren zigzagged through the crowd until she reached the woman.
    “I need to talk to a supervisor,” Lauren said.
    “What seems to be the problem?” the woman replied calmly, as she gave Lauren the once-over.
    “Something may have happened to one of your airplanes,” Lauren whispered, not wanting to be overheard and start a panic. “I was talking to my fiancé, he’s aboard—.”
    “Not here,” The agent hissed, then put her hand on Lauren’s arm and escorted her to an empty area near the large windows. The agent turned and stood toe-to-toe with Lauren. “Now, slowly, tell me what it is you think you know?”
    “Like I said, I was talking with my fiancé, he’s a passenger aboard one of your flights. Before we were cut off, he told me there was another airplane and that they were going to hit. I need to find out if that airplane is still flying.”
    “Security!” The woman called out. She waved her arm to get a uniformed guard’s attention. She spun back and clamped her hand around Lauren’s wrist to keep her from walking away.
    Lauren yanked her arm from the woman’s grasp. “I need you to listen to me!”
    “Stay right where you are!” the agent said.
    Lauren wrestled with her emotions, a part of her wanted to run—find someone who would help her. Another part knew she’d said the wrong thing and wouldn’t get very far. From the alarmed expression on the face of the agent, Lauren understood she was being perceived as a threat. Over the agent’s shoulder, Lauren spotted a Chicago policeman as he weaved through the crowd, his eyes locked on Lauren and a hand on the butt of his