Night Fall

I said to him, “In other words-and I don’t mean this in a pejorative way-they tried to shake your testimony.”

“I suppose so. They explained that it was their job to do that in case I was ever called as a witness in a court of law.”

“That’s right. And how did this interview end?”

“They said they’d contact me again, and in the meantime they strongly advised me not to make any public statements to the news media, or to anyone. I agreed to this.”

“Did you see them again?”

“Yes. A week later. They had a third man with them who they introduced as Mr. Brown from the National Transportation Safety Board, though I never got his card.”

“What did you guys talk about this time?”

“The same. We went through my statements for another hour-a long time for an event that took less than two minutes. At this time they informed me that they thought the explosion may have been an accident, caused by a mechanical malfunction.”

“What kind of mechanical malfunction?”

“They didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“I know what I saw.”

“Right. So you’re saying that what you saw-a streak of light and the subsequent explosion of the aircraft-were related.”

“I never actually said that. How could I?”

“I appreciate your sticking to the facts. So maybe the streak of light and the aircraft exploding were a coincidence.”

“Hell of a coincidence.”

“And yet, it could be. So how’d you leave it with these guys?”

“I had questions of my own by now. I asked them about radar sightings, about other eyewitnesses, about military maneuvers out on the ocean that night-”

“What military maneuvers?”

“It was in all the media. There’s a military zone out on the ocean of several thousand square miles called W-105, which was activated that night for war games.”

“Yeah, I remember that. So, did these guys answer any of your questions?”

“No. They said they were not at liberty to discuss anything about the incident while the investigation was in progress.”

“Were they nice about blowing you off?”

“They were polite, but firm.” He added, “The fellow called Nash, however, wasn’t as polite. He was…”

“Condescending?” I offered. “Snotty? A prick?”

“Something like that.”

That’s my Ted. Only Ted Nash could try to make an A

“They again advised me not to make any public statements, and they said they’d be in touch.”

“Were they?”

“No.”

“I’ll bet if you’d made a public statement, they’d have been on your doorstep real soon.”

He replied, “They understood that in my position-an officer in the active reserves-I’d do what the government asked.”

I nodded, then asked him, “So you left it that way? I mean, in your own mind?”

“Well… I assumed the investigation would move forward and that if they needed me, they’d call. There were so many other eyewitnesses… and then they started to dredge up the aircraft and put it together at Calverton… I figured that they were getting closer… FBI agents were interviewing everyone around here about suspicious characters, people who’d taken boats out of the marinas that night, background checks of the plane’s passengers… I followed all this on the news… it was a massive investigation… so, I waited.” He added, “I’m still waiting.”

I informed him, “The case is closed. You won’t hear from anyone ever again.”

He replied, “I’ve heard from your wife. And now you.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He nodded, then said to me, “I’ve been tempted over the years to call Nash or Griffith.”

I replied, “Ted Nash is dead.”

This took him by surprise, but he didn’t respond.

I added, “And if I were you, I wouldn’t call Liam Griffith.”

He nodded.

I stood and said, “I’m going outside. You can join me or leave.”

I went out through the screen door and onto the catwalk. I stood at the railing with my back to the door. It’s always a good idea to give a friendly witness a short break and a chance to reflect on what he or she was getting into. It was a chance for me, too, to think about what I was getting into.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The breeze had picked up and the temperature was dropping.

I heard the screen door open behind me and without turning I asked Captain Spruck, “Do you think it was a military war games exercise that went very wrong?”

“No.”

“I thought that was one of the stronger conspiracy cover-up theories at the time.”

He stood beside me and replied, “It is absolutely impossible to cover up an accident of that magnitude. Hundreds of seamen and airmen would have to be involved with a cover-up of an accidental or mis-aimed missile launch.”

I didn’t reply, and he went on, “The average sailor talks too much when he’ssober. When he’s drunk, he’ll tell everyone at the bar his sailing orders, fleet strength and capabilities, and anything else he knows. Where do you think the expression ‘Loose lips sink ships’ comes from?”

“Okay. So, if I said Arab terrorists, how would you feel about that?”

“If I couldn’t even see where the missile came from, how am I going to know the race or religion of the people who fired it?”

“Good point. How about if I said some group that wanted to harm the United States?”

“Then I’d say there was an El Al 747 right behind the TWA 747, and the El Al flight was ru

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“It was in all the papers. Another theory.”

“Right. We got lots of theories.”

Captain Spruck asked me, “Do you want to hear about the explosion?”

“I do, but I’m not as interested in the explosion as I am in the streak of light. Let me ask you this-five years have passed since you saw what you saw. You’ve read and heard a lot of stuff in those five years. Right? Has anything caused you to reconsider your original statements? You know, like you think you may have made a mistake, or what you saw could be explained differently, and now you’re kind of married to your original statements, and you don’t want to recant or retract because it would make you look a little less than smart. You understand?”

“I understand. I am not being stubborn or egotistical, Mr. Corey, but I know what I saw. Within sixteen hours, Miss Mayfield was in my living room asking me what I saw. At that point, I had heard not one other eyewitness account of this incident-nothing that could have colored my perception of what I saw.”

“But there were news reports by that time about people seeing a streak of light.”

“Yes, but immediately after the incident, I called on my cell phone to this Coast Guard station and reported everything I’d seen, including the streak of light. At that point, for all I knew, I was the only person on the planet who saw what I saw.”

“Good point.”

“I made this point with the FBI people, who kept asking me about my perceptions being colored by subsequent news coverage. How the hell could my immediate report to the Coast Guard be colored by subsequent reports?” He added, “My call to the Coast Guard station is on file, though I was never allowed to see what the duty officer wrote.”

He probably wrote, “Nut job,” I thought, but then subsequent calls and events caused him to black that out of his log.

Captain Spruck continued, “Plus, I’m only one of two witnesses, to the best of my knowledge, who has actually seen a surface-to-air missile, live and in color, up close and personal.”

This guy was perfect. Too perfect? I asked Captain Spruck, “Who’s the other guy who’s seen a real, live, up-close missile?”

He replied, “A man who was an electronic warfare technician. He’s made public statements that coincide with my private statements.”