Chapter 39
It took them a solid fifteen minutes to get their recording gear set up and bring in more chairs and a second folding table.
I used the time to get my drawing stuff set up, cushion my chair with a poncho liner aka woobie, and set my water bottle close to hand.
I was still dehydrated, but I paced my intake as I’d suddenly have to pee and I wanted to wait as long as possible.
I was finishing my first drawing when they were finally ready. The lead IG guy was clearly pissy and impatient the whole time.
“Okay, first interview with Cassandra Blake,” Alice Kennedy said into the microphone, then gave the date and time.
Then Synch spoke.
“Before you give us your recollection of the events of this morning, Ms. Blake, I’d like to preface this by warning you that your testimony and the findings of this group, particularly the NTSB final report, will have an impact on your ability to get your pilot’s license in the future.
So, you should tell us the full truth every time, right from the beginning, as we will be going over and over this. ”
I paused to study him, meeting his angry eyes dead-on. “Then let me preface my testimony by indicating that first, you will get the full truth, in greater detail then you ever have before, but also that I don’t give a damn about a pilot’s license.”
“Oh?” he asked, brows raised but eyes hard with intent. “I understood you had spent time on a simulator in anticipation of becoming a Blackhawk pilot?”
I laughed. “Are you insane? You think the powers that be are going to let me chopper around as a pilot? You probably believe I could get a plane ticket and leave the country right now, as if they would let me.”
“Cassie, if I might call you that?” Alice asked. I nodded and she went on. “We understood that you had a significant number of hours on simulation. And I don’t understand your comment about leaving the country?”
“I have twenty hours, but it was more like a summer camp thing. You know, like an archery class at Camp Goofalot in the Poconos. It was fun and I was good at it, but I’m never going to be a pilot. Handy skill, though, as we saw this morning.”
“You have twenty hours on a military simulator and you don’t intend to fly?” Brian Osterman asked, incredulous.
“I’d love to. It isn’t going to happen. But I got seven and a half minutes of actual flight time that was actually extremely useful to some people, which is all you can hope for with any skill, actually.
Just like I’ve had way more hands-on experience with tourniquets than I’d prefer lately.
And no, I’m sure I’m on a No-Fly list. National security and all that.
Anyway, I get your point. You’re the big dog, the IG’s attack dog, and you’re here to sniff out wrongdoing and bad intentions or even human mistakes or whatever.
Anyway, you want to kick this off or what? ”
The investigators exchanged confused glances, and Alice waved me to start.
“Okay, let’s see. We lifted off the helipad of the DHS building at eleven twenty-one.
Six minutes later, I felt bullets perforating the decking of the aircraft.
My father has described the sensation so many times that I knew what it was.
I opened my eyes and saw blood spurting from the left quadriceps of the copilot, Agent Cody Franks. ”
“How do you know how much time had elapsed?” Irene Roscov asked.
“I had a glimpse of Agent Kessler’s Breitling Superocean. He has three nice watches and rotates them every day. Here is the seating chart from the crew area so you can see how he was in my line of vision,” I said, spinning around my first drawing.
“This is… detailed. Extremely detailed,” Alice noted.
“I have a perfect memory and extremely fine hand-eye coordination, which is why I did so well at the simulator. It translates to good sketching technique. Can’t sing a note though.”
They collectively blinked at me and then Alice Kennedy nodded for me to continue.
I went through it, moment by moment, word by word, detail by detail, sketching as I talked.
Each sketch was replication of one of the four flatscreens on the instrument panel when I sat down as well as a sketch of the controls on the center console before we pulled the copilot out and I then climbed in.
The two pilots on the NTSB team asked questions and studied the drawings with fascination. Alice Kennedy homed in on my quote of Agent Simon’s words and my observations of her condition. Synch jumped in on that part.
“How do you know she was going into shock?” he demanded.
“Experience and training. In the course of six summers of visiting Benning, I’ve attended twelve separate emergency medical training classes and seen nine trainees wounded in training.
In addition, I’ve seen five individual emergency cases in my hometown where people were injured in regular activities.
And then again lately, when this facility was attacked.
Also when I helped treat the copilot this morning. ”
“Attacked?” Synch asked.
“Did you get any briefing whatsoever?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“No. Apparently not. This task force has been a secret since it was stood up,” he said with a frown.
“Oh,” I said as realization hit.
“What, Ms. Blake?” he asked, annoyed.
“Nothing, Agent Synch,” I said.
He paused, staring at me, curiosity and annoyance warring across his features. “Again, what, Ms. Blake?”
“Are you familiar with the recent spate of cases handled from here?”
“Everyone is,” he said. “Your handiwork, I’m told.”
“I’m a temporary consultant for the Bureau. I just turned eighteen recently. I was always headed for the military, but this has been fun too. As of yet, I haven’t decided what direction I want to take.”
“What does your career path have to do with this?”
I frowned. “Shouldn’t an investigator gather as much information as possible before and during an investigation?”
“An investigator also needs to avoid bias and jumping to pre-conclusions prior to having all the information,” he said.
“Oh. Commendable. Not a survival trait, but commendable.”
“Ms. Blake,” Irene said, clearly eager to change the topic, “you seemed to indicate a certain respect for Agent Simon?”
“Yes, I did. She picked me when her aircraft and passengers were in danger.”
“By your admission and based on what we know of the other passengers, you were the only choice?”
“Yes, but I still value people who trust me to be capable.”
“You sound uncertain, Ms. Blake, for the first time since you started talking,” Carlos Synch stated.
“Because while I have total recall of everything I experience and my prediction rate is beyond human normal, I still don’t know, absolutely, what people think of me. And I am a human teen female.”
“Barely human,” one of the IG guys, Ivan Peterman, muttered to his boss.
“That sounds like the very definition of bias, Agent Peterman. I’d like that noted in the records, above and beyond the recordings. Agent Peterman expressed the opinion that I am barely human,” I said instantly.
“That was a privileged aside between members of this investigation,” Synch said, waving away my concern.
“I differ in opinion on that, and so will my attorney. A member of this investigation has clearly opined that I am not fully human, said opinion presented without any evidence of a scientific nature. This constitutes extreme bias and I will be lodging a complaint via Coors Bennington with the office of the IG, the Director of the FBI, the DOJ, and the Office of the President of the United States.”
Ivan started to sputter, but Synch held up a hand to silence him.
“You are way overreacting, Ms. Blake,” Synch said.
“Please note on the record that the lead investigator for the Inspector General’s office, Carlos Synch, has verbally denigrated the validity of my concern regarding his team’s bias, which indicates bias on his part.”
“Ms. Blake…” Synch began, but I held up my hand in exact imitation of his previous move.
“You are taking my testimony regarding the attack via heavy caliber rifle fire on FBI aircraft and personnel and have taken great pains to indicate the severity of the situation and my need for truthful testimony, yet now a member of your team has expressed opinions regarding the level of my biological origins and my mental abilities, and you have willfully ignored the implications. This one comment calls into question my entire testimony and degrades the entirety of said testimony. I think this interview is done. I have calls to make, first to my attorney and second to the White House.”
Snych started to speak, but Kennedy put a hand on his arm. “Ms. Blake, is all that truly necessary? It will impede the conclusion of this legally mandated inquiry.”
“From the comment made, I think that’s a good thing, with regard to the IG’s office. I’m happy to continue with you folks, but I will be damned if I sit here under the scrutiny of a junior member of the Inspector General’s team who feels I rate less than human.”
“You’re mad,” Irene said, her own voice even and calm.
“Furious. You know how many times I’ve been called a freak?
By kids, adults in my grandmother’s diner, sniper candidates who failed infiltration because I was on the observation platform, Ranger trainees whose operations failed because I was advising the opposing force?
It’s an actual number: two thousand seven hundred and sixty-two times.
Correction: two thousand seven hundred and sixty-three.
“I’m clearly neurodivergent, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fucking human.
My traits are considered unmatched in the entirety of the human population, yet I’m still part of that same population.
My ability to predict outcomes of events is why everyone wants me, and my current prediction is that the IG’s team came in pre-biased.
I also predict that when I inform the Secretary of Homeland Security that I will not be working for any agency under its umbrella, said team will find itself investigating fraudulent ice cube makers in the northernmost office the FBI has in Alaska. ”
“Valid,” Irene said. “I’m not you and haven’t lived your life, but I dealt with bias in the military the entire time I served. Something to keep in mind.”
I took a breath. “I want a break.”
“That seems entirely reasonable,” Alice Kennedy said carefully.
I grabbed my stuff and left.