by John Moralee
“That’s wrong.”
“I know. Listen, I’m hoping you could send me a copy of the crash report. I’m staying at the Rosewood Hotel.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Tommy?”
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
“Gotcha.”
“Next time you’re in Washington give me a call, man.”
“I will,” Nolan said. Hopefully Tommy would be successful – but in the meantime Nolan would have to do his own digging.
*
That afternoon Nolan drove twenty miles on a highway cut through bleak marshland. His destination was down another road where he encountered a group of thirty or forty protesters camped outside a security checkpoint. They looked like young college students and older hippies.
When they saw his car, they started waving PEACE NOW and STOP DART DESTROYING MOTHER EARTH placards. A bare-chested Native American man with long black hair pointed a camera at his vehicle and took a picture of him. He was accompanied by a screaming white girl aged about seventeen screaming obscenities. She had pink hair and peace symbols tattooed on her wrists. She looked at him with hate in her eyes.
Nolan drove on, keeping his eyes on the gates ahead, which were the only way in through a security fence.
Nolan stopped and talked to an armed guard. The guard checked his ID and asked him the reason for his visit before making a radio call to someone. After waiting a couple of tense minutes, Nolan was issued with a visitor’s pass.
“Just park your vehicle in the green zone, sir. Mr Falcon himself will meet you at the entrance to building A1.”
The building was an imposing black edifice with black windows that reminded Nolan of the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey. He could not see the entrance until he was approaching the doors, which opened automatically, allowing him into a cool lobby where Peter Falcon was waiting to shake his hand.
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Geoff. I’m Peter Falcon, CEO of DART.”
Peter Falcon was a big, beefy Texan with a firm handshake and a strong jaw line. He wore a Gucci suit and a somewhat incongruous DART cap, like a coach for a minor-league baseball team.
“I’m real sorry we’re meeting in these circumstances, Geoff. Losing Ken was like losing a brother. He talked about you a lot. It’s a real honour meeting you in the flesh.”
“Thanks,” Nolan said. “What’s going on outside?”
“You mean with Ripley’s Rabble?”
“Ripley’s what?”
“Ripley’s Rabble. That’s what I call them. Ripley’s a professor who started a protest movement against DART. An environmental nut. He hates DART. Blames us for everything wrong with our country. He started protesting ten years ago when DART bought this land for development. At the time it was just a piece of useless marshland. We’ve changed it into something useful to the local community. Now we employ over 5000 people, but Ripley and his rabble only care about the loss of some mosquito-infested marshland. Forget them, Geoff. They’re not important. Let me show you to Ken’s office.”
There was a security guard behind Falcon, who suddenly stepped forward. He addressed Nolan in a stern tone. “Sir, you’ll have to leave any cell phones and electronic devices here. For security reasons.”
Nolan handed the guard his cell phone, which was placed in a plastic box behind the reception desk for him to collect later.
Nolan and Falcon entered an elevator that took them to another floor higher in the building. Ken’s office was down a long white corridor with numbered doors left and right. Falcon unlocked one door with an electronic card. They stepped inside a spacious corner office with two large windows looking out on a massive runway. It had no furniture in it except a desk. Two blue boxes stood on the desk. They were marked “Mr Mayer’s personal belongings” and appeared to be filled with photographs and other memorabilia.
“Oh,” Falcon said. “Looks like someone’s already packed up everything. I tell you what, Geoff, why don’t I have my assistant Donna take those boxes out to your vehicle for you, so I can show you around the place?”
“Okay,” Nolan said. “I’d like that.”
Falcon made a call. Almost before he had finished it, a tall blonde woman showed up, his personal assistant. She took Nolan’s car key and the boxes, then disappeared without saying a word.
“Donna’ll leave your keys at the reception desk,” Peter Falcon told him as he led Nolan away from Ken’s empty office. “I’d like you to meet Ken’s team. They are working on a very important project right now. It’s called the Phoenix Alpha.”
Nolan went past a restricted area where he saw everyone going in had to wear goggles because they tested lasers inside. He followed Falcon into a large room roughly the size of a classroom that smelled like a high-school gym. He almost gagged.
Falcon grinned. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t always smells this bad in here. A dozen of my best scientists were working all night on a problem. You’d think they’ve never heard of showers or deodorant.”
Like a classroom, the walls were covered with chalk boards. Complex equations were written all over them in a dozen different styles of handwriting, ranging from neat to incomprehensible. Nolan recognised some of the equations were for flight mechanics, but others completely baffled him, even though he had a degree in aeronautics.
“I call this the Think Tank,” Falcon said. “My boffins use this room to sound out ideas. Personally, I don’t understand any of it.”
There was a small bald man in the room feverishly scrawling on a board. He had ignored their arrival.
“Ed, I’ve brought someone to meet you.”
Ed continued writing equations.
Peter Falcon rolled his eyes. “Ed’s a genius, but he doesn’t care much about people. He prefers the company of his own mind. Ed – will you stop writing for a minute? ED!”
Ed turned around looking a little dazed. He frowned when he noticed Nolan. “Who are you?”
“I’m Geoff Nolan. A friend of Ken’s.” He offered his hand to shake, but Ed didn’t shake it.
“August 17,” Ed said. “1946.”
“That’s my birthday,” Nolan said, amazed.
“Ed’s like a human filing cabinet,” Falcon said. “He remembers everything.”
“Not everything,” Ed said. “That would be mathematically impossible in an infinite universe.”
“What are you working on?” Nolan asked.
“It’s classified,” Ed said, staring at his visitor’s pass. He looked at Falcon and addressed him as though Nolan didn’t exist. “I’ve been examining that – uh - problem for you, sir. It wasn’t the g-force. I’ve proved it had to be something else because I can’t find any errors in the theory. It doesn’t make sense. There has to be an unknown variable.”
“Okay, Ed,” Falcon said. “Keep working on it.”
Nolan wanted to ask what they were talking about, but Falcon suddenly seemed keen to move on.
“We’d better let Ed focus. I’ll introduce you to Dr Harker. She’s the temporary new head of the research department. She can better explain what we do here than I can.”
They walked down another corridor, passing several doors marked RESTRICTED ACCESS. They came to another office, where a beautiful dark-haired woman could been seen through a window working on a computer.
Falcon knocked on the window. The woman looked up and waved them in. Her door was not locked.
“Dr Harker, this is Geoff Nolan, the astronaut,” Falcon said. “He knew Ken.”
“Hi,” she said, standing up to greet him. She was wearing a grey pant-suit and a white blouse that made her look like a go-getting business woman. She smelled incredible after his visit to the Think Tank, like fresh apricots. “I can’t get over what happened to Ken. I still feel like I expect him to knock on my door at any moment.”
“Yeah, I feel like that,” Nolan said.
“Please sit down,” Dr Harker said.
They sat
down opposite her in some comfortable leather chairs.
“I’ve been telling Geoff you’ve taken over Ken’s job for the moment,” Falcon said. “I think Geoff could be a valuable asset to the company, so I’d like you to explain all about what we do. Tell him about Phoenix Alpha – the unclassified stuff.”
“Okay,” she said. “We’re basically developing stealth technology for the military. My team are currently working on a new type of afterburner that will produce no detectable heat signature. That would make it impossible for heat-seeker missiles to lock-on, saving many lives in combat and also make US planes virtually invisible in infra-red.”
“Invisible afterburners? Is that possible?”
“Well, not yet. But we’re working on it.”
“It sounds interesting.”
“It is very interesting,” Peter Falcon added. “Our contract with the government will be worth billions of dollars when the Phoenix Alpha is ready. Unfortunately, Ken’s death caused a major delay because he was flying a plane with the prototype afterburners fitted. They were wrecked in the crash. They have to be rebuilt from scratch.”
Falcon sounded more upset by the loss of his prototype than the death of Ken Mayer.
“How exactly did Ken die?” Nolan asked.
“I’m afraid it looks like pilot error,” Falcon said. “The day he died, Ken took the Phoenix Alpha prototype up for a test run against a couple of F16s. It was their job to get a missile lock while he performed various combat manoeuvres. They failed to target him, which proved the afterburners worked as expected. Next Ken was supposed to do a low run over some SAM sites. He was flying very close to the ground when he somehow lost control of the plane. It flipped upside down and he crashed into the ground.”
“I heard the explosion from half a mile away in my office,” Dr Harker added. “Ken was already dead when the rescue vehicles arrived. It was terrible.”
“Could it have been mechanical failure?” Nolan said.
“No!” Dr Harker said adamantly. “The plane was in perfect condition before the flight. A team of engineers made sure of it. Our experts thoroughly analysed the wreckage. They found nothing wrong. I can’t understand what happened. The only explanation is pilot error.”
Pilot error. It was a phrase often used when there was no good reason for as crash. It wasn’t a satisfying answer.
“Let’s not dwell on why Ken died,” Falcon said. “It was a tragic accident – but we have to move on with the project. The new afterburners had nothing to do with why he crashed. They have to be completed despite the tragedy.”
Just then Donna appeared. “Sir, the governor’s arrived for your meeting.”
“I have to see him,” Falcon told Nolan. “If I don’t see you before you leave, here’s my card.”
Falcon gave Nolan his business card with the DART logo on it – a gold dart stuck in a bull’s-eye.
“Do you golf, Geoff?”
It seemed an odd question, but Nolan answered it with a nod.
“Great! We’ve gotta set up a game. Call me if you’re interested.”
Then Falcon turned to Dr Harker. “Angela, I’d appreciate it if you’ll give Geoff a quick tour around the base. Can you do that for me?”
It wasn’t really a question. It was an order.
Dr Harker nodded. There was a fixed smile on her face. “Of course, Peter. I’d be delighted.”
It was clear to Nolan she wasn’t delighted - but Falcon didn’t notice her reticence. The man seemed to live in a world where everyone just loved to do what he ordered.
Falcon hurried away, leaving Nolan with Dr Harker, who turned off her computer before they left her office. They passed through the Think Tank where Ed was still working.
“Afternoon, Ed,” Dr Harker said.
“It wasn’t the g-forces,” he said to her, repeating what he had already to Peter Falcon.
As the continued towards the elevators, Nolan asked her what Ed had been was talking about.
“It was possible Ken passed out in the cockpit due to the g-force,” she said. “That would have explained the sudden loss of control. Ed just confirmed it wasn’t that.”
Outside Dr Harker located a buggy, which she used to drive Nolan around DART. The site was like a huge airbase. Nolan could see several runways and dozens of planes parked in hangars. NASA would have been proud to have a site like this, even if the environmentalists would have dropped dead at the sight of so much marshland having being drained and built on. One hangar had its doors closed.
“What’s in that one?”
“It’s where the crash investigators put Ken’s plane.”
“What do you think caused his crash?”
She sighed. “Personally, I don’t think Ken should have been flying that plane. Not at his age. We have younger pilots who could have flown it. Unfortunately Ken loved to fly so much he insisted on doing the test himself.”
She stopped the buggy at a different building. “This is where we run tests for the Phoenix Alpha.”
They passed through a security check before being allowed into the building. Inside Dr Harker showed him a special wind-tunnel large enough for massive war planes to fit inside. From a control room, she showed him on a monitor what they were doing inside. They were testing a jet engine fitted with the new afterburners. Dr Harker introduced him to the scientists and engineers working on the project. She showed him a bank of monitoring equipment.
“Look at the temperature readings,” she said proudly.
Nolan knew afterburners created temperatures of thousands of degrees. They burned fuel like pyromaniacs.
“124 degrees?” he read out. “That’s unbelievably low.”
“Ideally we want the temperature to match the external environment. But we’re not yet there.”
“How’s it done?”
“I can’t tell you that unless you become an employee, Geoff. It’s top secret tech you’re looking at worth billions to our competitors.”
He could see why Ken would want to work here. This was cutting-edge engineering.
Dr Harker looked at her wristwatch. Nolan noticed she wore no ring on her hand. “I’d like to show you more, but I’ve got to get back to work.”
She drove him back to the first building. There he collected his keys from the reception desk.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Geoff.”
“And you,” he said.
“Tell Judy I’m sorry about what happened to Ken. This wasn’t how I wanted to get promoted, believe me.”
*
Nolan returned to Ken’s home. Judy was waiting. He carried the two boxes into Ken’s study, where he helped Judy unpack everything while telling her what he’d learnt at DART.
“Pilot error?” she sneered. “That’s the best they could come up with?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find out more.”
“You found out more than they told me,” Judy said. “So that woman Angela Harker has already replaced Ken?”
He nodded. Judy did not look happy.
They continued emptying the boxes, finding several bottles of aspirin, paracetamol and other painkillers that had been prescribed to Ken.
“He was always getting stress headaches,” Judy said. “But they were worse recently because Peter Falcon was always pushing Ken to work harder.”
Sighing, she began looking through the photographs that had come out of the boxes. Many of them showed Ken with his NASA colleagues during the days of the Apollo missions.
Judy pulled out a leather-bound book. “I gave him this for his birthday to keep his appointments organised.” She flicked through the pages, stopping on the day he died. “‘Test run today,’ is the last thing he wrote.” She turned back a few pages, frowning at something. “He had a meeting with Peter Falcon underlined the day before. He wrote ‘Discuss RR solution’ there. Do you have an idea what RR is?”
“It could be Ripley’s Rabble.”
“What’s that?”
He told her about the protesters. “They hate DART.”
“Why would Ken have a meeting about that with Peter Falcon?”
“No idea,” Nolan said.
“Here’s something else strange. He’s written ‘See H about problem’ down for one afternoon last month. I remember that was around the day he started acting different. I wonder if that ‘H’ was Angela Harker.” She sighed. “To be honest, I’ve never entirely trusted that woman. She’s far too beautiful to be a scientist. I used to worry she would try to seduce Ken. But that’s not why I distrusted her. She’s always wanted to have Ken’s job. She’s very ambitious. It does seem awfully convenient for her that my husband died, leaving her to take over.”
“That ‘H’ doesn’t necessarily mean her,” Nolan wanted to point out. “It could be someone else.”
“Maybe,” Judy said. “But she was in the perfect position to sabotage his plane. God! I need a drink!”
Nolan watched her pour herself a large vodka. When she offered to make him a drink, he declined and told her he would keep investigating for her. “I’ll talk to Dr Harker the next time I see her and find out if she’s the ‘H’. I have to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Judy.”
Judy sipped her drink and sighed. “I miss Ken so much, Geoff. I keep thinking I’ll see him sitting in our gazebo when I look out of the window. But he’s not there, Geoff. And he never will be again. He’s gone, gone, gone.”
There were tears running down Judy’s cheeks. Nolan watched her open the sliding doors and walk in the direction of the gazebo, swaying slightly due to the effect of the alcohol. She was surrounded by an aura of butterflies attracted to the colours of her dress. They fluttered around her as she sat down. The bottle of vodka was in her right hand and a glass in the other. She poured it sloppily.
Nolan didn’t want to watch her getting drunk, so he made his way out to his car, feeling a pounding in his head that matched the racing of his own heart.
