“Can I go in it?” she ventured.
He started to shake his head, then shrugged. “Okay, just don’t touch anything.” He pointed to a metal ladder near the front of the vehicle. “Go through that hatch. I’ll be right behind you.”
She navigated the five stairs and pulled herself through the hole in the side of the shuttle. He popped in right after her.
“Living quarters,” he explained as she looked around the cramped area. “All the space is in the cargo bay.”
She turned to study a sea of displays and gauges, buttons and levers.
“That’s the glass cockpit.” He put his hands on the back of one of the sleek captain’s chairs and raised an amused eyebrow toward the screens. “One and a half billion of your tax dollars to replace the technology of the seventies.”
“We better keep that tidbit out of the press release.”
“Why?” he countered. “This is what makes it safe. This is the reason we only have one blow up in a thousand launches instead of one in four hundred and thirty-eight.”
She stepped back and stared at him. “Are you happy with those odds?”
“Those are the odds I live with.”
“Why?” The question popped out before she thought about it.
He assessed her with a long glance. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“If someone didn’t take the risk, where would we be?”
Her gaze traveled back to the wall of technology and then returned to Deke, a quote and headline forming in her mind. “We should play that up. You became an astronaut to discover new horizons and make your mark on history.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, the warmth of it seeping through her thin cotton blouse. “Spare me and the American public that misconception. It has nothing to do with making history.”
“Then why?”
His sudden grin blinded her. “Because the son of a bitch flies seventeen thousand miles an hour, that’s why.”
The shrill tone of a cell phone eliminated the need to respond. She reached into her bag and flipped open the phone, her attention still on him.
Bill Dugan didn’t even give her a chance to say hello. “Man, am I glad I found you. We have a huge problem with Newsweek. They’re going with a deadly story about NASA cost cutting. They have an insider who says money is tight and the result is dangerous. They claim to have an internal memo, but it’s not authenticated and their source won’t go on the record.”
“Who’s the reporter?”
“It’s Paul Zimmerman. He covers technology and space but also does features.”
“Zimmerman? That’s good. I worked with him on a cover story recently and gave him some scoop Time didn’t have.” She’d also plied him with expensive Merlot on her last trip to New York and listened to him gripe about his salary. She could handle this reporter. “What’s he got?”
“He’s got an unnamed source, strictly off the record, and an internal NASA memo that claims it’s just a matter of one more launch till we have another Challenger on our hands.”
Her stomach rolled at the thought as she watched Deke peer into the cockpit. One in four hundred and thirty-eight. One in a thousand. What kind of man gambles with his life?
“Who knows about this, Bill? Colonel Price?”
“The Colonel, a safety engineer named Skip Bowker, and some of the staff are gathering at Headquarters now. We need you to get over there, prep them, and get Zimmerman on the phone. He’s agreed to do one more interview before they decide.”
“Decide what?” she asked.
“Whether or not to go with the story. Apparently the editors aren’t sure of the veracity of the source.”
Jessica looked at her watch. “That means we have about four hours. Newsweek goes to bed at eleven on Saturday morning. Any story can be cut before that. Has Colonel Price gone on the record yet?”
“Nope. Zimmerman will talk to him, but he’s looking for a different angle since the Colonel has done Time and USA Today already and talked about the hydrogen leak.”
“A different angle?” Jessica studied Deke as he fingered the leather on one of the cockpit seats, surely listening to her end of the conversation. “I have an idea.”
He turned at the tone of her mystery in her voice, a shadow darkening his eyes. She moved the receiver from her mouth and narrowed her eyes in a challenge to him. “You like risks, huh? Are you willing to take one now?”
He scowled at her, but she ignored it and spoke into the phone. “Bill, I think it’s time we launched our astronaut.”
“Stockard? Is he ready?”
“He’s ready,” she assured them both, trying not to let Deke’s blazing expression weaken her resolve. “Who better to vouch for safety than someone who has to fly the shuttle?”
Deke shook his head in definitive denial. In her ear, she heard Bill continuing. “Zimmerman would love an interview with Stockard. Nobody ever gets the astronauts on this kind of stuff. He’ll go nuts for those quotes.”
Jessica talked to both of them, looking at Deke as she responded. “We don’t want quotes. Not if we do our work right.”
“What’s the use of doing an interview if he doesn’t go on the record?” Bill asked.
“Our goal is to kill the story, not help it get published.” She searched Deke’s face for any sign that he would relent. “No ink is what I’m after,” she said into the phone, a plea and a promise in her eyes. “Commander Stockard can convince Paul Zimmerman that there’s no story here.” Then she’d lay a little groundwork for the puff piece on NASA’s hottest property, the news she’d spoon-feed America.
“Please,” she said as she snapped the phone shut and explained to him about the memo. “You can really help on this and it would be a good introduction to the media for you.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re nuts, you know that? Astronauts don’t speak on safety. Colonel Price does. I’m not going to sweet-talk some reporter and tell him there’s no danger. Who knows where the hell he got his information?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” She bit back a sigh of frustration. “Will you at least come to the meeting? You don’t have to do the interview. Just help us formulate a response.”
“You don’t need me to do that.” He stepped toward the hatch they’d just climbed through, inches from her. “I guess we’re done here.”
Jessica put her hand on his arm to stop him. “Bad press at this time could really set our campaign back. It will take even longer to… get rid of me.”
He paused and eyed her warily. “I’ll go, but I am not getting on the phone with the reporter.”
“Of course not,” she agreed quickly.
Unless you’re ordered to. She knew exactly what she had to do and how to do it. This was her version of flying seventeen thousand miles an hour and, like it or not, Deke Stockard was about to come along for the ride.
* * *
Jessica’s entire demeanor changed on their way to the third-floor conference room of the Headquarters building. She’d been mildly enthusiastic about the tour, but sparks practically shot out of her as she hustled ahead of him. He did a mental review of who had the most to gain from the public knowing about the problems on the shuttle but didn’t dare slow his step and risk losing pace with this determined fireball.
When they reached the room, a few members of Colonel Price’s staff and some public affairs people had already arrived. He took a seat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair and silently cursing the fact that he’d never get to sail today.
Jessica flew into meet-and-greet mode, shaking hands and flashing that tantalizing smile at everyone. Skip Bowker was on her like a fly to honey, too.
“So you’re the PR person who’s going to put Deke on the map.” Skip shot a smile down the table to Deke. “Shouldn’t be too hard for you, Miss. He’s born to be famous. Named after an astronaut.”
“I’ve got that in his bio,” she assured Skip a
s she shook his hand. “And it’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Bowker. I’ve read about your work on Apollo and the shuttle missions.”
Skip furrowed his brows and a twinkle lit his eyes. “I may be thinning a bit in the hair department and hitting the big six-five this year, but don’t you want me to be on the cover of People?”
She treated him to one of those wind-chime laughs, then lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “You help us get through this and I’m sure we can work out some kind of feature on you.”
Skip beamed. Oh, brother. The old man was dead meat with this woman.
“I can help you, Jessica.” Bowker leaned closer. “This is all a bunch of malarkey, you know. There are no safety issues. Those shuttles run like Swiss watches. Flawlessly. I guarantee it and you don’t have to go any further than that, Miss.”
Deke listened to Skip’s words and clenched his jaw to stay quiet. He’d better be right.
“We’re going to need your help to prove that today, Mr. Bowker,” Jessica said.
She had no idea what she was getting into. But it wasn’t Deke’s job to save her ass. Let Colonel Price do it. The sooner she screwed up, the sooner the Colonel would send her packing.
With every person that came into the room, the sense of crisis heightened. Deke acknowledged Stuart and the Colonel with a terse nod. Before he could explain that he was only here to help formulate the safety responses, Jessica took over the meeting and started grilling the Colonel, leaning forward like a racehorse that needed to be held back at the starting gate.
An uninvited pang of pure sexual desire ricocheted through him. Did she have this much passion about everything? She wouldn’t be around long enough for him to find out. One bad Newsweek article and surely the powers that be would yank her from the assignment.
“Colonel Price, I understand you’ve spoken to this reporter already. Did you allow yourself to be quoted?” she asked.
“It was strictly off the record. But, these guys…” He held his hands out to indicate “who knows?”
“Damage control has to start with the facts.” She looked directly into Price’s eyes, evidently not the least bit intimidated by his title or position. “Is there any truth that cost-cutting measures are having an impact on safety, Colonel Price? I can’t formulate our response until I know.”
Colonel Price stared at her thoughtfully. “Costs have been cut in a number of areas, but none that would compromise safety.”
Deke ignored the fingers of concern that squeezed his gut. The words were true enough. Maybe cost cutting had nothing to do with the problems they faced on Endeavour. But if a hungry reporter started digging around, the real story might not be that hard to uncover. Very few people in the room even knew there was another story. Including Jessica Marlowe.
She turned her attention to Skip Bowker. “You’re the heart and soul of safety at the Cape, Mr. Bowker. What do you think?”
“Ditto what the Colonel says, ma’am. Absolutely everything is in order: inspected, re-inspected and triple-checked—”
Colonel Price held his hand up to interrupt. “We’re not going to give them confidential technical information, Miss Marlowe. How can we kill the rumor started by this memo and stop this reporter from yellow journalism?”
“We can drown him in key messages about NASA’s unparalleled commitment to safety.” She took out a legal pad. “Then we’ll confuse and overwhelm him with indisputable, quantifiable, and non-confidential facts.”
Deke leaned forward, ready to fire facts at her. Too much too soon could confuse and overwhelm the pretty spin doctor instead of the reporter. At least he hoped it would.
They shot figures at her, answering her questions as fast as she could ask them. From the number of times the shuttles were inspected before a launch to the aggregate years of experience of inspection teams. Skip Bowker knew most of it, but he was a little unsure on circuit inspections and rewiring. Deke filled in the holes with rapid-fire statistics and mechanical terms that had to bury her.
She wrote furiously, throwing back questions, forcing them to fine-tune the answers and sending an occasional dirty look in his direction when he went so fast she couldn’t keep up. But, he admitted with grudging admiration, that wasn’t very often. In fifteen minutes she had filled two long, yellow pages with bullet points.
Colonel Price reached out and spun the pad to read it. “I can get these across in an interview.”
“With all due respect, Colonel, the real goal is to kill the story.” She closed her eyes for a moment and shot a look at Deke. “I have a rather unorthodox suggestion.”
A black ball of anger formed in his gut. He opened his mouth to argue, but she deftly cut him off, addressing the Colonel with her practiced, professional voice.
“Perhaps Commander Stockard could do it. There is no better person on earth to speak about safety than someone who has to take the risk. And it would be an excellent introduction to the reporter for… our positive publicity campaign.”
She tapped a pink fingernail on the page and turned back to Deke. “You deliver these sound bites, but weave them into a heartfelt speech about your belief in the program and why you became an astronaut. You can convince this reporter he doesn’t have a story.” She looked innocently at the Colonel. “Colonel Price, well, sir, you don’t have to fly that shuttle. Commander Stockard speaks for the people who do.”
Colonel Price nodded slowly, his gaze lifting to Deke. “I think she makes perfect sense.”
The brat. The little she-devil brat. There was no way he could contradict Price in front of all these people. “Of course.”
“Here.” Jessica slid the pad down the table toward him. “Can you read my handwriting?”
Deke clenched his jaw and stared at her. “I don’t need your notes, Miss Marlowe.”
She paled. Good. At least she knew she’d betrayed him. She cleared her throat and pulled a speakerphone closer to her, tapping an open line.
“I need to present the idea to Zimmerman before we put you on the line,” she said over the dial tone. “And I need to remind him of something.”
Paul Zimmerman answered on the first ring. “Jessica Marlowe. So you’re working on NASA now? You didn’t mention that when we had dinner last month.”
“A new plum assignment, Paul,” she said with a pointed look at Deke. “I couldn’t turn it down. We have to get you to Kennedy for the next launch.”
“Love it. It’ll be a big story when it blows up.”
She cringed and looked around the table at the frowns and shaking heads. “It won’t.”
“I’ve got an inside source who says budgets are cut so deep that faulty wires are the norm, not the exception. Not what the taxpaying public wants to hear, nor the families of those poor astronauts, I’d imagine.”
“Sorry. You’ve got bad information. Why don’t you talk to one of the astronauts?”
“Fat chance. They keep those guys locked up tight until they want to parade them in their orange suits before a mission.”
Jessica smiled at Colonel Price. “Not always, Paul. I can get you one of their best. A former Naval officer deeply involved in safety prep. He’s piloted Discovery and is scheduled to command Atlantis next May. Commander Deke Stockard. This guy’s great. Honest, smart, and completely trustworthy.”
Deke shifted uncomfortably at her blatant promotion of him. The propaganda was one thing. His nagging fear that the reporter might be closer to the truth than any of them wanted to admit was even more disturbing.
“I’d love to talk to him. How quickly can I get him? I have about an hour to finish the story.”
“Or kill it,” she added deftly. “I’m at Kennedy now, Paul. I can get him in a few minutes.” She paused a moment. “Oh, by the way, any awards coming your way for the IBM story?”
“No Pulitzers yet, but a ton of email and letters. It really got noticed and I’ve had a few juicy assignments because of it.” The reporter chuckled. “I owe you on that one, Jess.”<
br />
A satisfied smile lit her face, making it obvious that she expected a favor in return for whatever she’d given him in the past. “Why don’t you hold a minute? I have Commander Stockard available for you.” She stabbed the hold button and looked up at Deke. “Ready?”
He stood and moved into the chair next to her, his resentment rolling in waves that he hoped she could feel.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Everything you’re about to say is true, isn’t it?”
“True enough.” He reached for the hold button and met her challenging gaze. “Let’s get this over with.”
After her introductions, the reporter attempted some small talk. “You’re not taking Endeavour up in February, are you, Commander Stockard? You’re taking Atlantis up in May, I understand.”
Deke didn’t try to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Correct. But since I’m involved with the pre-launch preparation for both missions, let me address this so-called memo you have.”
“Fine. How have cost cuts affected safety?”
“They haven’t.” The smartest thing she’d said was to bury him in facts and Deke began immediately. In ten minutes, he could hear the reporter’s keyboard quiet as he either ran out of steam or interest. Even Jessica stopped taking notes.
“All that may be true, Commander,” Paul finally said. “But you can’t eliminate all risk, can you?”
“You know, Mr. Zimmerman, we all take risks in this business, but not stupid ones,” he answered slowly. “I don’t want to die and neither do the men and women I fly with. We participate in or review data from nearly thirty inspections that take place on every piece of equipment on a shuttle prior to launch. When we sit on that launch pad with sixty tons of liquid hydrogen under us, we intend to come home.”
The clicking of Paul’s keys stopped completely. “I appreciate your time, sir. I hope I get the opportunity to speak with you again.”
“If it’s necessary.”
Deke watched Jessica quickly slide the speakerphone closer to her, giving him a warning look. Hey, he played her game. He didn’t have to play nice.
Space in His Heart Page 6
