by John Moralee
“Scout’s honour,” he said. She explained the basics. The Phoenix Alpha was powered by an external power source – a laser, a very powerful laser, so powerful it had not been built yet. The laser was fired from the ground to send the craft up into space, like a beach ball on the end of a stream of water. It meant there was no limit – theoretically – to the payload, the amount of material the craft could take into space. The idea of laser launching had been around for decades, but DART was the first company to build a working prototype bigger than a baseball. The craft used some patented and highly confidential materials worth billions to anyone interested in economical space flight.
It was a secret many people would kill for.
“Does it fly?” he asked.
Cordy’s smile gave nothing away. “Until you sign up with the company, I can’t say anything else. I don’t like sounding like Ed, but I do have to live by some of his rules.” Her phone rang. She answered it. “Yes, he’s here, Ed. Okay, I’ll tell him.” She hung up. “Ed’s getting bored. He wants you to see Falcon again.” She paused, looking as if she wanted to add something. What she said seemed hasty, reluctant: “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Geoff.”
“And you,” he said. He needed to say more. “I’m going to be in town for at least a week, helping out Ken’s wife and things … I was wondering … I have plenty of free time … Maybe you and I could have dinner somewhere? That way, we won’t have anyone timing our conversation?”
“Maybe we could,” Cordy said, thinking about it.
“When?” he asked.
He expected her to come up with an excuse, like her diary was full for the next century. But she surprised him by saying, “Tonight’s fine with me. There’s a lovely restaurant on the coast about twenty miles south. I’d like to show you it. The sunsets are unbelievable and the food is … well … unbelievable. I get off at six, so you could meet me after work around seven.”
Feeling a schoolboy flush of hormones, he made arrangements. He felt guilty for setting up a date, particularly with Judy Mayer still grieving for Ken after she’d asked him to look into her husband’s death, but it just happened. As a justification, Nolan told himself, he could probe Cordy for more information about Ken’s recent behavioural changes. Perhaps she knew more than his wife? Sometimes people confessed things to friends and workmates they wouldn’t tell their partners because the level of intimacy wasn’t as deep.
It was a legitimate excuse to see her on a date, anyway.
Nolan revisited Falcon and listened to the deal Falcon wanted him to accept. It was quite impressive. Hell, it was very impressive. The money on the table was well above what he’d retired on. At 58, he didn’t feel old enough to retire, but somehow it had happened for no better reason than he’d grown tired of spending his time on lecture tours. There was only so many times he could tell groups of bored high-school students what it was like on the moon before he and they got bored. These days nobody cared about his Apollo mission. The only moonwalking they were interested in was that done by Michael Jackson. Every student wanted to do business degrees, not astronomy and astrophysics. Business degrees! What kind of future was that leading to? One controlled by Bill Gates clones? Nolan certainly needed something to do with his time.
Therefore, the job was tempting, despite his initial reluctance.
He said he’d seriously consider it.
It was nice and noncommittal.
Falcon accepted his answer with another handshake. “You know we want you, Geoff. Ken would’ve wanted it that way.”
*
“Hey, Tommy, this is Geoff Nolan. Yeah, long time, no see. How are you, man?” Nolan was talking on his car phone and driving along a stretch of coastal highway with the top down and the fresh wind invigorating his lungs. The blue sky was streaked with white lines crisscrossing over the DART airfields. Even though Tommy McGuire could not see him, Nolan nodded and smiled as if his old NASA buddy was right in front of him. It was a habit Nolan wasn’t aware of – he disliked using phones because it was impersonal; he liked to face people when he talked with them. Tommy worked for the FAA these days. He had connections in the Safety Board responsible for analysing what went wrong whenever a plane crashed. “I need a big favour. It’s about Ken Mayer. Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either. Uh-huh. No – I don’t believe he would make a mistake. Can you fax me the FAA report? Great. Here’s the fax number. Fifteen minutes? That’s brilliant. Bye.” Nolan turned off the highway and entered the beautiful suburb where Judy lived. He parked in the drive and was stepping out of his Jeep when she opened the door. She was holding a glass of lemonade … and swaying slightly. Her eyes had a glassy look that was all too familiar to a man whose brother was an alcoholic. She was drunk, but struggling to appear sober. He realised there had been more than ice in her lemonade that morning.
“What did you find out?” she said.
“Not much – yet. I’m going to dinner tonight with Cordelia Harker. I’m hoping she’ll tell me something about what’s really going on at DART.”
“I don’t like her,” she said. “Far too beautiful for a scientist.”
He decided to say nothing. “Has your fax machine printed anything?”
“Oh, yes. It’s spewing crap right now,” she said, “as a matter of fact, I had to add some extra paper. Hundreds and hundreds of pages are coming out. Will it explain what killed Ken?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. He went with her into the lounge. There was a large framed picture of the Earth photographed from space on one wall. Ken’s memorabilia was on the shelves and cabinets, including several beautiful samurai swords and Ming vases. There was a photograph of Nolan and Ken in the Oval Office with President Ford. He looked at it, then looked away. He could feel the pressure of the room upon him. This was Ken’s world. But Ken was dead. Dead, like Nolan’s dreams of ever going into space again. Dead.
Beside a coffee table, next to a computer, the fax was noiselessly printing out page after page. A whole ream had been used. It stopped as if on cue.
Judy finished her drink and sighed. “You mind if I return to the garden?”
“No, not at all.”
He watched her slide the french doors open and walk in the direction of the gazebo. She was surrounded by an aura of butterflies attracted to the colours of her dress. She swatted at them half-heartedly.
Nolan picked up the heavy wad of paper and sat down on a couch. He had plenty of reading to catch up on. The FAA report was thorough. There was a transcript of Ken’s last conversation, twelve minutes before the crash. Nolan learned that Ken had reported an engine problem. The tower had instructed him to change course for a local airfield. Ken agreed, then muttered a series of expletives and the words “fuel leaking” and then the tower lost contact. The plane crashed. A study of the wreckage had revealed a damaged valve in the engine. The piece that had actually failed, causing the plane to crash, was only worth $1.25. It was smaller than a screw, but somehow it had come loose. The report stated it was an accident. They were not going to investigate further.
Nolan called Tommy again and asked him his opinion. Tommy said, “All the redundant systems built into a plane should’ve meant he could have handled it. I mean, I never heard of that causing a crash on its own. I’m thinking …”
“What?”
“Well, it’s sounds like there was something else. Did they find any cell phones or computers aboard?”
Nolan flipped to the relevant page. “No. Why?”
“There was a case of a 737 in India a couple of months back … crashed because some idiot left his laptop computer on during landing. It interfered with the flight computer and the pilot thought he was higher than he actually was. The pilot should have known better than to trust his instruments, but sometimes you just don’t think there’s a problem. You sure they checked for that?”
“It says no, but the crash site was pretty big. Debris spread all over for a half mile.”
Nolan could hear Tommy
scratching his head. “You want me to call the Safety Board, get them to check?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“I’ll call you when I get something. Could be a day or two, depending on how fast I can make them move their butts.”
After Tommy hung up, Nolan considered the possibilities. If someone had wanted to kill Ken and make it look like an accident, then interfering with the flight computer was a devious and practically untraceable method. If someone had killed Ken, their method showed a sophisticated knowledge of aeronautics and electronics. That limited it to someone working for DART. It wasn’t beyond the imagination to see them fixing the engine, then sneaking a computer or gadget aboard the Gulfstream V. They could have made the device switch on after a certain time, when the plane was over the mountains. Then when the plane crashed, the computer would be destroyed, eliminating any evidence. Even if the pieces were found, it was highly unlikely anybody would connect it to the cause of the crash.
It was speculation, Nolan knew, but it worried him to the core. An amateur could not have planned such an “accident”, but there were many DART employees with the skills.
He heard the french doors sliding apart. Judy stood in the sunlight, her skin radiating a golden sheen. As she entered the lounge, the darkness crept over her and she shivered. “You’ve found something,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She’d read his face. “What?”
“There’s a way of faking an accident,” he said. He explained, adding, “But unless the FAA discover electronic components like a transmission device, it’s nothing but guesswork. Crazy guesswork at that.”
“Only someone very smart could do that,” she slurred. “One of those creeps at DART. Never liked them. Especially that woman. Harker.”
“Judy, how much have you had to drink?”
Her eyes turned to steel. “I have not been drinking.”
“Judy –”
“I’m tired,” she said. “I haven’t slept since the crash, Geoff. I’d like some sleep now, so can you go?”
She would brook no arguments. He left. He felt like dirt for adding to Judy’s pain. Should’ve kept his theories to himself. He had to redeem himself.
*
At his hotel, he showered and changed into a casual jacket and slacks for his dinner date. In Florida at this time of year, he had found, nobody dressed formally – it was just too hot. But as he drove towards the address Cordy had given him, he began to feel the chill of evening. Hopefully, they would be inside for most of their date. Cordy’s home was a cute ranch-style house in a quiet section of town close to the beach. He rang the doorbell and heard Cordy coming to the door. It sounded like she tripped over something because she muttered a curse. Moments later, she opened the door and laughed nervously, flicking her hair out of her eyes. He liked her navy blue dress, which was cut down the thigh. He forced his eyes upwards and ignored the imperative of his libido.
“I’m not quite ready,” she said, looking down at her bare feet. “Please come in while I finish. Don’t miss the step there – like I just did.”
The house was on various split-levels. The architect had gone all out to make the rooms blend into one another, but still remain separated, so the kitchen was up some steps, the study down some, and the bedroom was up some more steps. She kept her place neat and tidy, Nolan noted. Cordy dashed into the bathroom and left him alone. He waited for her by pacing up and down in the lounge, fidgeting. A couple of black and white cats prowled the carpet, watching him from afar.
“So. How long have you lived here?”
“Three years,” she called out.
“I see you like cats.”
“Yeah. You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No, no. Just saying. I have a few goldfish, that’s about all I can manage.”
“That’s nice,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
He didn’t know what to say next. He waited for her to return. She had on her shoes now. They matched her dress. He admired her shapely calves, the sleekness of her legs, the curve of her hips … The word “ravishing” leapt into his head, only to make him wonder if that was politically correct. “You look … good.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
Awkward, awkward, awkward. “The restaurant …”
“Right.”
The restaurant. It was as good as she’d said. They talked a combination of personal and business … more personal than business as the evening progressed. He learned that Cordy had been something of a nerd in high school, being about the only person in her class good at science. She hadn’t dated anyone until college, when she’d lost her puppy fat and suddenly become attractive to the opposite sex. She’d almost got married once, but she found out just in time her husband-to-be was cheating on her with three other women. She’d not had a serious, long-term relationship for years, but she was still cheerful about the prospects. Nolan felt good around her. He could tell she felt the same. They had something. But then he ruined it by returning to the subject of Ken.
“Did you notice any change of Ken’s behaviour in the last few weeks?”
She stopped eating, her fork poised at her mouth. She put it down and looked at him. “Can I ask you something and get an honest answer?”
“Yes, sure. Ask.”
“Do you think I killed him or something?”
“What? No. Why’d you ask that?”
“Because you clearly have some kind of secret agenda, Geoff. Do you seriously want to work for DART?”
“I – uh –”
“Honestly.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like the secrecy, Cordy. I personally believe science should be out in the open, where people can access it. The Phoenix Alpha sounds a great project, but I think it would be so much better if the whole world knew about it. I don’t like the idea of space being exploited for profit. It kind of gets away from the reasons why we went into space in the first place.”
“So why this dinner? Pumping me for information? Want me to confess?”
He shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“I like you, okay? I like you. You’re clever and sexy and funny. Judy thinks some kind of conspiracy is going on, so I agreed to ask some questions for her. It doesn’t mean I think you’re guilty. Right now, I don’t know why Ken died. That bothers me, I won’t deny it. But I genuinely wanted to see you tonight because I wanted to know you better, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, quietly. “You realise Falcon’s gonna be extremely angry when you turn him down?”
“I know,” he said. “But let’s not talk about that. Let’s just enjoy a meal together. Deal?”
“Deal.” Cordy paused. “About Ken. I did notice a change. I didn’t think it was about the project, though.”
“Why not?”
“There was a day when he went out for lunch on his own. Monday, I think. That was pretty unusual because most of the guys on the team eat in the canteen, then get back to work as fast as they can. But he went out. Didn’t say where he was going, just he had something to do. He came back looking shell-shocked.”
“Shell-shocked?”
“Like he’d seen a ghost. I’m not kidding you. He was as white as a sheet. He said nothing was wrong, but he nearly got into a fight with Ed.”
“When was this?”
“An hour after he returned. He and Ed were arguing about the statistics from the last test run. It was nothing, really. But Ken lost his temper. Something was definitely bothering him. I assumed he’d had an argument with his wife. That was what usually put him in a bad mood.”
“Did he often argue with Judy?”
“I don’t know. She was a subject we didn’t talk about. Judy has never liked me, Geoff. I guess she thought I would try to steal her husband, considering the time we spent working together ...” Cordy fell silent.
They ended the meal, then went outside. It was a cool, starry night.
Romantic couples were walking hand in hand on the lantern-lit path on the cliff’s side. Nolan and Cordy walked down it, too, talking in hushed voices about their hopes and dreams. They stopped at a stone bench and sat close to each other. Cordy was just a shadow next to him, a lovely shadow. They looked up at the stars and moon and Nolan tried to convey the emotions that he’d felt visiting it. On the moon he had felt at peace with the universe. In touch with creation. It was such a lonely place, but it was such a fulfilling place. In his opinion, everyone should visit the moon once in their life, just so they could truly understand their role in the universe, their purpose for being.
“I felt like I’d achieved something special, something wonderful,” he told her. “There aren’t many things you can do that make you feel so damn good about yourself. When I see what’s going on in America these days, I wish we could get that innocent optimism back. If only the money spent making movies was spent on exploring space, we would be on Mars by now. It’s so sad. No wonder people crave TV like Star Trek and Babylon 5. We as a species need to explore space. Pretending we don’t is lying to ourselves.”
He felt her hand in his. “You’re a dreamer, aren’t you? I admire that. You could make a difference at DART, Geoff. This isn’t a sales pitch. I mean it. I’ve been urging Falcon to go public with the Phoenix for ages. Maybe he’d listen to you.”
“Did he listen to Ken?”
A sigh: “No.”
“Could he have killed Ken?”
She pulled her hand away and jumped up. “I don’t want to talk about that. It’s late. I think I’ll go home now. I’m sure I can still get a taxi.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No. Forget it.”
“Cordy, please.”
She relented. Feeling extraordinary relief, he walked back to his car and drove her home, by which time he’d patched up the damage done. The house was in darkness, surrounded by midnight blue sky. Cordy opened her car door a crack, but didn’t get out. She looked at him. Her face was barely lit by the orange glow of the dashboard. He could see her teeth as a white line. They were perfect. She wanted to say something … He wanted her to say it, whatever it was … in her own time. In the gloomy interior, the heat flooding out of the car from the open door, Nolan’s mood was somewhere between melancholia, excitement and dread. Dread in case she didn’t want to see him again. Excitement in case she did.
