A guy in a blue jumpsuit was on the spiral staircase, and I called up to him, "Hey, pal. Get down from there."

People were moving back toward the exit doors, and the guy on the spiral staircase was able to get down to the last step. Kate and I squeezed our way past him, and we went up the staircase, me first.

I took the spiral stairs two at a time, and stopped as soon as I was able to see into the dome cabin. I didn't think I needed a gun, but when in doubt, pull it out. I drew my Clock and stuck it in my belt.

I stood in the dome cabin, which was brighter than downstairs. I wondered if the Emergency Service guy who had gone on board and discovered this was still on board. I called out, "Hey! Anybody home?"

I moved to the side to let Kate up. She came up and moved a few feet away from me, and I saw she hadn't drawn her piece. In fact, there seemed to be no reason to suspect that there was any danger on board. The Port Authority Emergency Service guy had reported that everyone was dead. But where was the guy?

We stood there and scoped the scene out. First things first, and the first thing was to make sure there wasn't any danger to us, and you have to check out closed doors first. A lot of bright detectives have had their clever deductions blown out of their brains while they were poking around a crime scene with their heads in a cloud.

In the rear of the dome was the lavatory to the left, and the galley to the right. I motioned to Kate, and she drew her piece from under her blazer as I moved toward the lav. The little sign said VACANT, and I pushed on the folding door and stood aside.

She said, "Clear."

In the galley, a stewardess lay on the floor on her side, and out of habit, I knelt down and felt her ankle for a pulse. Not only was there no pulse, she was cold.

Between the galley and the lav was a closet, so I covered while Kate opened the door. Inside were passengers' coats, jackets, hanging garment bags, and odds and ends on the floor. It's nice to travel Business Class. Kate poked around a few seconds, and we almost missed it but there it was. On the floor, under a trench coat, were two green oxygen bottles strapped to a wheeled cart. I checked both valves, and they were open. It took about three seconds for me to suspect that one bottle had held oxygen, and the other had held something not so good for you. Things were starting to come together.

Kate said, "These are medical oxygen bottles."

"Right." I could see she was also putting things together, but neither of us said anything.

Kate and I moved quickly up the aisle and stood at the cockpit door, which I could see had its lock smashed. I pulled on the door and it swung open. I stepped inside and saw that both pilots were slumped forward in their seats. I felt for a pulse in both their necks, but all I got was cold, clammy skin.

I noticed that the overhead hatch was open, and I guessed that the EMS guy who'd come on board had opened it to vent the cockpit. I stepped back into the dome cabin.

Kate was standing near the seats in the back of the cabin. I walked over to her and she said, "This is Phil Hundry…"

I looked at the guy sitting next to Hundry. He was wearing a black suit, his hands were cuffed, and he had a black sleeping mask over his face. I reached over and pulled the mask up. Kate and I both looked at the man, then finally she said, "Is that…? That doesn't look like Khalil."

I didn't think so either, but I didn't have a clear image of Khalil in my mind. Also, people's faces really transform in some weird way when they're dead. I said, "Well… he looks Arab… I'm not sure."

Kate reached out and ripped the man's shirt open. "No vest."

"No vest," I agreed. Something was very strange here, to say the least.

Kate was now leaning over the guy in the seat behind Phil Hundry, and she said to me, "This is Peter Gorman."

That at least was reassuring, two out of three wasn't bad. But where was Asad Khalil? And who was the stiff posing as Khalil?

Kate was now staring at the Arab guy and said to me, "This guy is… who? An accomplice? A victim?"

"Maybe both."

My mind was trying to sort all this out, but all I knew for sure was that everyone was dead, except maybe one guy who was playing dead. I looked around the cabin and said to Kate, "Keep an eye on these people. One of them may not be as dead as he looks."

She nodded and raised her pistol in a ready position.

"Let me have your phone," I said.

She took her flip phone from her blazer and handed it to me. "What's George's number?"

She gave it to me and I dialed. Foster answered and I said, "George, this is Corey-just listen, please. We're in the aircraft. The dome. Everyone is dead. Hundry and Gorman are dead-okay, I'm glad Lindley is keeping you informed. Yeah, we're in the dome, and the dome is on the plane, and the plane is in the security area. Listen up-the guy with Phil and Peter does not look like Khalil-that's what I said. The guy is cuffed, but he has no vest. No, I'm not certain it isn't Khalil. I don't have a photo with me. Kate isn't sure, either, and the photo we saw sucks. Listen…" My mind tried to come up with a plan of action, but I wasn't even sure what the problem was. I said, "If this guy next to Phil isn't Khalil, then Khalil may still be on board. Yeah. But he may have slipped off the plane already. Tell Lindley to tell the Port Authority guys to call their bosses ASAP and have the security area sealed off. Don't let anybody out of this enclosure."

Foster wasn't interrupting, but I could hear him mumbling things like, "Good Lord… my God… how did this happen… awful, awful…" and other genteel mush.

I said, "Khalil has apparently killed two of our people, George, and the score is Lion, a few hundred, Feds, zero. Put out an alert around the airport. Do what you can with that. What can I tell you? An Arab guy. See if you can get this whole airport sealed up, too. If this guy gets out of here, we've got a problem. Yeah. Call Federal Plaza. We'll set up a command post at the Conquistador Club. Get all of this rolling as soon as possible. And tell Ms. Del Vecchio the aircraft will not be proceeding to the gate." I hung up and said to Kate, "Go down and tell the PA cops we need the enclosure sealed tight. People can come in, but nobody gets out. Roach motel."

She hurried down the staircase, and I stood where I was, looking at the faces around me. If that wasn't Khalil next to Hundry-and I was about ninety percent certain it wasn't-then Khalil could still be on board. But if he'd acted quickly, he was already out in the security enclosure with about two hundred other people-people who had on every kind of clothing imaginable, including business suits like the Trans-Continental supervisor. And if Khalil acted very quickly, and very decisively, he was already on some kind of vehicle headed out of here. The airport barrier fence was close by, and the terminals weren't more than two miles from here. "Damn it!"

Kate came back up the stairs and said, "Done. They understand."

"Good." I said to her, "Let's check these people out."

We both moved up the aisle and examined the dozen or so male bodies in the dome cabin. One of the passengers had a Stephen King novel on his lap, which turned out to be appropriate. I got to a guy whose body was completely covered with two lap blankets. He had a black sleeping mask on his forehead, and I pulled it off and saw that the guy had sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. "Over here."

Kate came over to me as I pulled the lap blankets off the body. The guy was wearing a navy blue police shirt and BDU pants. On the shirt was a Port Authority police emblem. I let the blankets fall to the floor and said to Kate, "That's got to be the EMS guy who boarded the aircraft."

She nodded and said, "What has happened here?"