‘We’ll make the first simulator run this afternoon at fifteen hundred hours,’ Carson told Saxon, as they prepared to leave the airship. ‘Have you seen everything you want to see at this stage?’
‘I think so,’ Saxon replied.
As they reached the main ramp they met Maclaren ushering four wide-eyed men into the Albatross. They all wore Pan Continental flight crew uniforms.
‘Ah, Garry,’ Maclaren smiled, ‘I want you to meet the first back-up crew … they’ll be starting on the simulator training programme next week.’
Carson was already smiling at a lean, dark-haired man who wore the four stripes of a Pan Continental captain.
‘Hello, Art. I knew it wouldn’t be long before you joined this outfit.’
The man took Carson’s outstretched hand, and grinned.
‘Good to see you, Garry.’
Art Stein had begun his career as a pilot with Northwest Airlines, much to the indignation of his parents. Loeb and Jessica Stein had set their hearts on their only son going into the family law business. ‘Arthur, my boy, you want that you should cause your mother grief?’ his father had asked him on the day he left university and announced his intention. ‘What career is this flying? Just a bus driver in the sky. Is that a career?’
‘I aim to be an airline pilot, pa,’ Art had said.
‘And don’t call me that. Have you no respect?’ snorted Loeb Stein.
‘I am going to be an airline pilot,’ repeated Art doggedly.
‘It’s a crazy thing you do, boy,’ his father had assured him. His mother had gone so far as to demand that her rabbi say Kaddish for him. It took her five years to forgive him. Now, fifteen years later, Art Stein was a four-striper Pan Continental airline captain who had volunteered to join the company’s subsidiary to train as an airship pilot. Art Stein loved adventure, especially adventure in flying, and the idea of piloting a giant dirigible appealed to him enormously.
The Albatross’s new back-up crew were introduced all round. For Saxon the names did not register, just a surprising feeling of excitement which he had not experienced in years; a feeling of coming together for a purpose, of joining an enthralling and important project.
Chapter Three
‘I don’t like it,’ Terrasino said, glancing at Hayes, the FBI agent. ‘Something doesn’t quite fit.’
They were seated in Hayes’s office, with Vambrace an interested spectator.
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Hayes said, as he turned the pipe-like explosive device over in his hands.
‘I think that the saboteur wanted us to find that bomb.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I believe that this device was just a warning. When he does strike in earnest, he is not the sort to forget a simple thing like winding up his trigger mechanism.’
Vambrace moved his head in agreement.
‘I can see Terrasino’s point, especially about the note.’
‘There’s another explanation,’ pointed out Hayes. ‘Working on the assumption that we are dealing with a psychopath, the man might be so far out of touch with reality, so far along his paranoiac path, that the fact that no one would read his note after the explosion never occurred to him. Maybe he simply wrote it to satisfy some compulsion within himself.’
‘No; you could be right but I don’t think so,’ Terrasino replied. ‘I say he planned this bomb to fail because he only intended to make a point.’
‘The point being that Anglo-American are totally vulnerable to his attacks?’ asked Vambrace.
Terrasino nodded.
Hayes sighed.
‘Is this guy Nieman outside?’
‘Yeah. I brought him down with me just in case you wanted to question him,’ said Terrasino. In fact, Nieman was rather upset at being asked to accompany the chief of security to the FBI office. He confessed to Terrasino that he tried to avoid any dealings with the police or related agencies, but the security chief had convinced him that his help might lead to them tracing whoever had planted the explosive device. Nieman entered Hayes’s office looking nervous.
Hayes rose, introduced himself and tried to put the man at his ease.
‘We just want to ask some questions about how you found this mechanism,’ he gestured to his desk on which the device lay. ‘We’ve heard the story from Mr. Terrasino but you might be able to fill us in a little more.’
‘What can I tell you?’ Nieman asked. ‘I found it merely by accident and telephoned Mr. Terrasino immediately.’
‘How did you find it?’ prompted Vambrace.
‘Well, I had been working on the section in the afternoon with Keller … ’
‘That’s Jules Keller, Doctor Van Kleef’s assistant,’ interposed Terrasino.
‘ … yes, Jules Keller.’ Nieman frowned at the interruption. ‘We packed up early. I was going to Garry Carson’s party. Well, as I was getting ready I suddenly remembered something which had been worrying me — some circuits that didn’t seem to be connected correctly. On my way to Carson’s place I thought I would look in and check, see whether my memory was playing up. I went to my office, took out the plans and examined the circuits. I was sure that something was wrong and decided to make a thorough comparative check while the problem was in my mind. I took the plans with me to the section. I checked them out. As I thought … there were a few minor mis-connections. Nothing serious. The valve system would not have functioned correctly on gas cells seventeen and eighteen, that’s all. It was while I was making these checks that I found the device and then rang Terrasino.’
‘Is that a section of the airship which is in constant use?’ asked Hayes.
Nieman shook his head.
There is no reason for anyone to go there apart from the electrical engineering personnel.’
‘You and this Jules Keller were working there during the day?’ Vambrace asked.
‘No, Keller didn’t start work until late. He had only just returned from a trip to Montreal about midday.’
‘No one else?’
‘No. Mind you, Keller continued working after I left, so I wouldn’t know who else was there between the time I left and the time I went back.’
‘Can you be specific about the times?’ Terrasino queried.
‘Certainly. I packed up a little after five o’clock and returned there just about eight o’clock.’
‘I see,’ smiled Hayes. ‘Well, I guess that’s all, Mr. Nieman.’
Kurt Nieman nodded, stood up and went to the door. Then he hesitated and half-turned.
‘Of course, when I left Doctor Van Kleef had just arrived to inspect the section.’
Terrasino glanced up.
‘Van Kleef?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He wanted to check the amount of leakage in the fuel valves. I can’t think why. The checks had been thoroughly carried out the day before.’
‘So Doctor Van Kleef was there when you left?’
‘With Keller,’ returned Nieman and then smiled softly. ‘You don’t suspect either Keller or Van Kleef, do you?’
*
It was nearly three o’clock in the morning when Jacques Barjonet halted his Mercedes sports car before the Renards’ house in Balleroy. Janine sat back feeling blissfully happy. She had, in spite of her initial feelings, enjoyed the trip to Caen with Barjonet; had enjoyed the movies and only made a minor protest when he suggested they move on to a restaurant afterwards. The meal had been marvellous, helped with two bottles of a dry light white wine. Barjonet was excellent company, keeping up a flow of jokes, light banter and anecdotes, gently pushing her into the conversation until she suddenly realised that she was doing most of the talking. She had never talked as much in her life as she had done during the evening.
In the car, on the way back home, she began talking about Charles. She did not know exactly how it had happened. She found herself confessing to Jacques Barjonet her frustrations and annoyance at the lack of compatibility between Charles and herself. Barjonet was sympat
hetic and Janine, for the first time for a year or more, didn’t feel lonely.
When Barjonet drew up outside her house, he climbed out and, to her surprise, politely bade her ‘Goodnight’.
It had crossed her mind a few times during that evening that Barjonet was making a play for her. She resolved that when he did so she would act the enraged faithful wife. Now, strangely, she discovered that she was disappointed as she watched him climb back into his car. She stood hesitantly.
‘I enjoyed this evening very much,’ she said.
Jacques Barjonet smiled up at her.
‘So did I. Perhaps we can do it again soon?’
She found herself eager, excited.
‘I’d like that,’ she said, trying to sound noncommittal and failing.
‘Fine,’ he put the car into gear. ‘I’ll give you a ring soon … goodnight.’
She stood watching the red tail lights disappearing down the drive and turned for the house with an odd feeling of anti-climax, of dissatisfaction.
*
Jules Keller and Samantha Hackerman came out of DiMillos on Commercial Street and walked to Keller’s white convertible.
‘It’s been a great evening, Jules,’ smiled Samantha happily, as she slid into the passenger seat.
Keller grinned.
‘Why end it now?’
Samantha glanced towards the early dawn sky. Catching her gaze, Keller laughed.
‘See what I mean? Why end things just as the most interesting part of the day is beginning?’
‘What do you have in mind?’ she demanded warily.
‘Oh, a drive down to Cape Elizabeth to pay our respects to the Portland Head Light and watch the dawn come up properly and in style. Then we can breakfast in an all-night diner I know on the shore road. Neither of us has to be at work tomorrow … rather, today.’
‘Okay,’ Samantha sighed as she relaxed against the car upholstery.
They soon left downtown Portland and drove south over the bridge and into the still sleeping streets of South Portland, then out into the country along the coast road.
‘Sam,’ Keller said after being silent for a while as he negotiated his way out of the city, ‘how about us — the two of us — packing up here after the Albatross does its thing and going to Europe for a year or two?’
Samantha stared at him in surprise.
‘What do you mean, Jules?’
‘How about a tour of Europe — one end to the other?’
‘I couldn’t afford to do that.’
‘Who’s asking you to afford it, Sam? I’ll do all the affording.’ The girl was startled.
‘It would cost a fortune,’ she whispered.
‘So?’ grinned Keller.
‘You can’t afford it. You’ve alimony payments among other things.’
‘I said I can afford it.’
Samantha laughed.
‘On what Anglo-American pays? Come off it, Jules.’
Keller looked hurt.
‘The hell with Anglo-American. I have a little going on the side. Enough for us to spend a year lazing in the Mediterranean sunshine.’
The girl frowned at him.
‘We can’t afford to be away from our jobs for a year. It’s a nice idea. I’d love it. But you have to be practical.’
‘I’m being realistic, Sam,’ he said soberly. ‘I tell you, I’m doing a little job for which I am being paid well. When it’s over I also have a job offered me in France.’
‘France?’
‘Well, it’s not the end of the world,’ he protested at her surprise. ‘I’m French Canadian, you know.’
Samantha shook her head.
‘What is this job on the side, Jules? You know that if you’re under contract to Anglo-American you’re not supposed to be working for anyone else.’
Keller laughed.
‘So who’s going to tell Maclaren? You? Come on, Sam. Relax. Let’s start living instead of being hung up on this damned work ethic bit. Why should everyone else have the fun while we poor suckers do all the work, eh?’
Samantha gave Keller a worried glance. She wondered what job he was doing which would enable him to take her on a twelve-month vacation to Europe and not feel concern for the future.
*
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ Hayes said, looking at Terrasino in amazement. ‘You really want us to check out Oscar Van Kleef?’ Terrasino had presented himself in Hayes’s office first thing that morning with the proposition. The FBI man was still trying to wake himself up with a pot of hot coffee.
‘I’m not saying that he’s our man,’ Terrasino insisted, ‘but of all the names we’ve come up with, he is a strong possibility. He has the opportunity and the knowledge.’
‘What about motivation?’ demanded Hayes sourly. ‘Jesus, why the hell would the man who designed the Albatross want to destroy his own creation?’
Terrasino grimaced.
‘You have just asked a question to which hundreds of people have tried to supply answers. There’ve been countless books on that particular subject.’
‘So enlighten me,’ suggested Hayes, sprawling in his chair.
‘Okay,’ replied Terrasino, sitting down. ‘The guy we are after is, I believe, a schizophrenic paranoiac. Trying to destroy the thing he created would be a fairly logical response in certain cases of this type. No one on the project is ruled out as a suspect … certainly not Oscar Van Kleef. We must start somewhere and I say let’s start with him.’
Hayes bit his lip thoughtfully.
‘Okay, Terrasino. We’ll check out Van Kleef. Then Keller. They seem to be the two possibilities at this stage.’
‘If it was a choice between Van Kleef and Keller,’ mused the security chief, ‘I’d come down on Van Kleef. He is more the type which fits in with my image of our man. And he’s got domestic problems, too. I understand that his wife has finally left him. It’s been on the cards for some time. Ran off with an air steward who works for one of the local lines.’
‘That hardly puts the finger on him,’ Hayes pointed out.
‘No, but it’s another piece in the jigsaw. Domestic pressure could be one of the triggering factors in our friend Max Prüss’s condition. Incidentally, have you been able to get a trace on the name at all?’
Hayes shook his head and poured himself another cup of black coffee.
‘What about this guy Nieman? How about a check on him?’
Terrasino laughed.
‘Now it’s you who has to be kidding.’
‘And why should the proposition that Nieman is the saboteur be so ridiculous?’ asked Hayes. ‘Surely he is just as good a suspect as Van Kleef?’
‘Yeah, excepting Kurt Nieman drew our attention to the bomb — our psycho would not be that crazy.’
Hayes suddenly exhaled deeply and put down his coffee.
‘I’m wondering just how crazy our bomber is.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Our psychiatrist agrees with your diagnosis,’ admitted the FBI man, ‘but only on the evidence presented, and maybe we are being too selective in that evidence. What if the situation is more complicated?’
‘I’m not sure that I follow,’ frowned Terrasino.
‘What if the bomber merely wants us to believe he is a psycho when all the time he is a cold, calculating saboteur acting for someone or some faction who would like to see the Albatross project fail?’
Terrasino shrugged but took the suggestion seriously.
‘Could be … you’re talking about a financial or political motivation? Sure, but would such a person go to the lengths that this man is going to? He is, he must be, very well placed among the technicians working on the project. That fact alone could cause tremendous difficulties in tracing him without his resorting to any other subterfuge and the laying of false trails. That’s why I wonder about Van Kleef. He has been around airships a lot of his life and could very easily have suffered some accident which now produces paranoia … ’
Haye
s was still sceptical.
‘I don’t think the evidence we have is enough to take action over Van Kleef.’
Terrasino looked at the FBI man pointedly.
‘Van Kleef, Keller and Nieman, if it makes you happy,’ he said. ‘Check them all out. What can it do except eliminate three suspects?’
Chapter Four
Charles Renard and Tanya Le Solliec took a taxi from Orly airport and sat silently as it sped through the southern suburbs of Paris to Tanya’s apartment on the Rue Falguière. Renard paid off the driver as Tanya went to open the door. After ten days, the apartment was a little stuffy and Tanya went through it opening all the windows.
‘Let’s go out for a meal,’ Renard said, dumping the suitcases in the hallway.
‘Aren’t you tired, ma mie?’ Tanya asked. ‘You didn’t sleep on the aeroplane.’
‘Food first,’ shrugged Renard, ‘then we’ll come back and sleep.’
Tanya glanced worriedly at Renard. He had become morose and almost monosyllabic during the last few days. She knew that something was worrying him. She decided to make a frontal attack.
‘What’s wrong, Charles? You can tell me.’
Renard looked momentarily annoyed.
‘Business, just business,’ he grunted.
‘The airship? The Charles de Gaulle?’
‘What else?’ he laughed bitterly. ‘Now come on, let’s go out and eat.’
She did not bring the subject up again until they were in bed a few hours later.
‘Why are you worried about the airship, ma mie?’
Renard was lying on his back, hands cupped behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Tanya turned on her side to look at him.
Airship Page 16
