Shadow Watch pp-3

by Tom Clancy

  “We have our own intelligence resources. The ground units would have needed to stage from positions somewhere relatively close to the plant.”

  “The key word being ‘relatively,’ ” Nimec said. “There are hundreds of miles of wilderness in the Mato Grasso. Territory where you could hide a fair-sized encampment if you have the know-how. As those people clearly would.”

  Gordian rubbed the back of his neck.

  “They’ve got concealment and cover, we’ve got the Hawkeye,” he said. “Let’s put our new bird through its paces and see who wins the Kewpie.”

  “What I was just about to suggest,” Nimec said. “I’ll order the satellite jogged into position soon as I get to Brazil.”

  Gordian shook his head. “You can do that from a ground station right here in the states, Pete.”

  “Sure, but my point is that with Rollie’s situation uncertain, we need somebody in charge down there—”

  “I agree,” Gordian said. “However, right now I’d prefer to have you in Florida as our liaison and advisor to the Orion investigation.”

  Nimec looked at him. “I thought you’d wrangled it so that Annie Caulfield was chosen to head the probe.”

  “I did. And I have complete confidence in her leadership.”

  “Yet you still want me to keep an eye on things?”

  “To keep me abreast of developments,” Gordian said. “Furthermore, there are some people at NASA who may be in a snit about Annie’s accession, so to speak, and I’d like to have someone in place to backstop her should she run into difficulties.”

  “Right off the top of my head, I’m able to name at least a dozen people in our organization who can do the job as well as I can,” Nimec said.

  “Only if we disregard your experience in identifying the characteristics of sabotage,” Gordian said. “I hope it doesn’t become essential, but we have to be ready just in case. Which is my third reason for wanting you at the Cape.”

  Nimec sat there for a moment of dead silence. Gordian’s fixed expression told him it wouldn’t do any good to contest his decision, that things would have to go his way whether Nimec liked it or not. Besides, he could present no logical argument; everything Gordian had said made perfect sense.

  In spite of the logic and sense, though, all Nimec could think was that he was finally getting his due for Malaysia. That Gordian was expressing his concern about a replay of the cowboys-and-Indians scenario that had grown out of Nimec’s tolerance of Max Blackburn’s unauthorized investigation into Monolith Technologies a year ago. He could still remember Gordian’s words when he’d found out about it. At that point it had been evident that Blackburn was in trouble. No one had yet guessed how serious it would turn out to be, but Max had disappeared, and Nimec had finally had to ask his employer’s permission to go looking for him.

  Yes, he could remember Gord’s exact words.

  “It’s beyond me how you could have been part of something this reckless, Pete. Completely beyond me… the two of you launched a caper that could have sunk us in quicksand. And very likely has… ”

  Nimec breathed. Maybe it hadn’t sunk them, but Max was dead, and he owned a share of the blame. Maybe, too, he deserved to be making reparations.

  “Who you plan on sending to Mato Grasso?” he asked.

  Another dead moment.

  Megan shifted in her chair.

  “Gord’s asked me to go,” she said.

  Nimec looked at her.

  “I apologize.” She averted her eyes for the briefest instant. “I probably should have told you sooner.”

  He was quiet.

  “Pete, one more thing,” Gordian said, breaking into the silence at what he thought was an opportune moment. “Have you heard from Tom Ricci? We can’t afford to get hung up as far as the Sword position.”

  “He left a message on my voice mail this morning. I plan to return the call as soon as I get back to my office.”

  “No indication yet about how he’s leaning?”

  Nimec shook his head.

  “He’d want to talk to me directly.”

  Gordian nodded. “I can see that.”

  Megan smoothed her skirt over her legs.

  “Must be a guy thing,” she half-muttered.

  Gordian looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

  “You haven’t spoken to my wife lately, have you?”

  “No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

  Gordian looked at her another moment.

  “Never mind,” he said, and scratched behind his ear. “It’s nothing important.”

  TWELVE

  CAPE CANAVERAL, FLORIDA APRIL 21, 2001

  Annie Caulfield had been thrust into the role of NASA spokeswoman often enough to have grown philosophical about it. See it as a burden and it would become one, and when it became one it would start to show on camera, and when it started showing on camera you’d be perceived as touchy and evasive, i.e., having something to hide, and the press corps would pound you without mercy. See it as a sort of friendly jousting match with reporters and interviewers, get too cute, and you would come off as one of the gang, an egotistical, overly glib insider who was enjoying the limelight, cozying up to your questioners for personal advancement — perhaps in anticipation of joining their ranks as a pundit, or expert consultant as it was formally called — and had very likely gotten into cahoots with them to put one over on the average citizen. See it as a means of serving the public’s legitimate right to know while doing your best to shape a positive perception of the agency, be honest about the facts you disclosed and equally aboveboard explaining instances when you couldn’t make certain information available, and you’d be solidly on Annie’s preferred course. Yes, it was always part performance and part ritual… but a performance could be either sincere or insincere, a ritual of light or shadow, and she tried her earnest best to stay on the side of the angels.

  It was a tough balancing act that often put her resilience and composure to the extreme test.

  The day after she accepted the assignment of Orion task force leader, her face was all over the televised landscape. In addition to being the subject of pieces on virtually every national and local newscast, she made appearances on two of the three morning coffee klatch shows via satellite, conducted the first of what would be a series of regular afternoon media briefings at the Cape, and was the leadoff guest on cable TV’s highest-rated prime-time interview program, again via remote feed.

  Her first booking was a five-minute spot with the same Gary Somebody-or-other who’d snared her for the cameras just before the shuttle launch was to have taken place. A genial man in his thirties, his plain-vanilla good looks and honey-voiced manner contributed to his talent for reducing conversations about wars, disasters, and the latest showbiz buzz alike into a homogeneous puree that washed down smoothly with breakfast and made him a consistent Nielsen winner. While Gary was certainly opportunistic, Annie had to admit that she sort of liked him, finding him to be further removed from a Gila monster than many of his peers, and a whole lot sharper than his soft and fuzzy veneer let on.

  “We appreciate your taking the time to join us, Ms. Caulfield,” he began in a tone of gentle empathy. “On behalf of this broadcast’s staff and viewers, I’d like to extend my condolences to NASA and the family of James Rowland. Our thoughts go out to all of you.”

  “Thank you, Gary. The support we’ve gotten from the public obviously means a great deal to us, and has been a particular comfort to Jim’s wife and daughter.”

  “Can you tell us what sort of impact the tragedy has had on you personally? I know that you and Colonel Rowland were close friends as well as colleagues.”

  Don’t choke up, she thought. Answer him, give him his follow-up, and maybe then he’ll drop it.

  “Well… like anybody who suffers the loss of someone dear, I find it hard to put all my feelings into words. Jim’s death has been devastating for everyone who knew him. He had a huge, warm personality, and it’s hard to be
lieve he’s gone. He’ll be terribly missed and remembered always.”

  “You flew several missions into space with Colonel Rowland, didn’t you?”

  One word. Don’t choke.

  “Yes.”

  “As crewmates on several missions, did the two of you ever discuss the possibility of being harmed in what is, after all, a highly dangerous occupation?”

  Please, let’s move on.

  “I don’t recall that we ever did. I think every astronaut feels a sense of privilege about being chosen to go into space. We’re always aware things can go wrong and try to prepare for these eventualities in training, and I’m convinced it’s because of this training that the rest of Orion’s crew escaped the shuttle unharmed. But we really can’t afford to dwell on the risks of our job any more than a firefighter or police officer can worry about them when he starts out each day.”

  “Of course, I understand, and believe it’s one of the main reasons that astronauts have come to epitomize an almost mythic spirit of heroism to those of us who’ve only been able to see the stars from the ground, and dreamed of seeing the ground from the stars.”

  Whatever that means, as long as you please, please move on, she thought with an interim smile, having no idea how to respond.

  “On the subject of your present duties as Orion task force leader, how do you intend to proceed with your efforts to determine the cause of last Tuesday’s terrible calamity at the launchpad?”

  Thank you. I think.

  “Speaking in general terms, and that’s the best I can do at this juncture, we’ll assemble a team that will look at what happened and search for clues to help us isolate the factors leading up to it. Any forensic probe is largely a process of elimination, and it’s going to require a painstaking examination of Orion’s remains.”

  “May we assume your investigative team is to be composed of NASA personnel?”

  “As we expressed in our initial statement to the press, we’re quite firmly committed to using experts from inside and outside the space agency—”

  “When you say outside experts, I find myself wondering where they’d be drawn from, this being an occurrence that’s had few historic parallels. Other than Challenger, and Apollo 10 before that, nothing else gratefully comes to mind… and I do want to emphasize the word gratefully. ”

  “I understand the basis of your question, Gary. But we’ve learned a great deal from the accidents you mention, and many of the people who helped determine what occurred in those instances are available for consultation — or even active participation — in our investigation. Also, while it’s true that the shuttle is a unique and advanced spacecraft, many of its systems and subsystems share a common baseline with the technologies used in other modern flying machines. Consequently, there’s a wide pool of authorities from government and civil aviation who can be of tremendous assistance to us.”

  “Does that mean the FAA and National Transportation and Safety Board will be involved?”

  Name the two agencies that nobody but nobody trusts, why don’t you? Might as well ask about the possible inclusion of former KGB operatives, or maybe Nixon’s White House plumbers while you’re at it.

  “We’ll be working alongside those groups to get to the bottom of what happened, and may very well include representatives from both as part of our team’s composition. However, we’ve already had many specialists from the aerospace industry and other parts of the private sector volunteer their expertise, and we will certainly be taking full advantage of it. What matters to me is that the job gets done, and I’m inclined to engage anyone who can have constructive input, regardless of his or her professional affiliation.”

  Gary Somebody-or-other paused a beat. Though Annie was looking directly into the bland eye of a television camera and had no video monitor with which to see him long distance, she suspected he was getting instructions from the control room.

  A moment later her suspicion was confirmed.

  “I’m being told we’re short on time, so some final questions,” he said. “We’ve heard from various sources that there’s been a break-in at an UpLink International facility in Brazil, where critical elements of the International Space Station are being manufactured. Several accounts indicate that a military-style assault force was involved. Can you tell us anything about this?”

  Have to get back to you on that one. Soon as somebody gives me more than the Cliff Notes version of what’s going on over there. Which may eventually happen if I’m lucky.

  “To be frank, I’ve spoken with Roger Gordian just once since my appointment as head of the probe, and didn’t have a chance to discuss the matter at length—”

  “Can you confirm that there indeed was an attack on the plant?”

  “Apparently a break-in, to use your characterization of the incident, did take place and was contained by UpLink security forces. That’s all I’ve gotten up to this point, but I plan to be in further touch with Mr. Gordian sometime today or tomorrow, and will hopefully have additional information to share with you afterward.”

  “Any idea about the size of the attack force, what they were after, or who might have been sponsoring them?”

  “No, none. I really do wish I could tell you more right now, Gary, but everyone needs to try and be patient.”

  “Still, I must ask you — given the nearly simultaneous timing of the two incidents, and knowing that Orion’s primary cargo was a lab element of ISS — has a connection between what happened in Brazil and the shuttle blaze been considered?”

  “I have no knowledge that would lead me to believe that, and don’t think we should go too far with that kind of speculation. NASA maintains a very close relationship with UpLink, and we’ll be keeping track of any developments in Mato Grasso that could impact on the program. I intend to be absolutely forthcoming to the press about whatever we learn, bearing in mind that we need to be careful about any details that might jeopardize the safety of UpLink personnel abroad.”

  “So you’re not concerned about Roger Gordian suspending operations at the plant? If the stories coming out of Brazil turn out to be true?”

  Huh? Suspending operations? Where’d that come from? Feel free to whip something up out of thin air, why don’t you, Gary?

  “No, I’ve heard nothing at all to indicate that’s being contemplated.”

  Another pause.

  “Unfortunately, I’m being signaled that we’re coming up on our daily ‘Keep Your Lawn Lean and Green’ segment. Please accept our prayers and best wishes as you move forward with your investigation. I hope you’ll return to give us an update.”

  “Thank you, Gary, I’m sure that I will,” Annie said.

  Onward, she thought.

  * * *

  It was at her afternoon press conference that Annie detected an emerging thread to the coverage, one that was being gradually twisted through a journalistic hook with sales figures and ratings points as the intended catch.

  She’d scarcely taken a breath after having completed her opening statements when an Associated Press reporter opened the Q&A by shooting his hand into the air and jumping from his seat in front of the podium like a kindergartner desperate for his teacher’s permission to visit the potty.

  “In your appearance on a national television broadcast earlier today, you discussed Roger Gordian closing down his International Space Station plant in Brazil due to an attack on its grounds by armed militants,” he said. “Can you elaborate on that situation for us?”

  “As I stated before, I’ve heard nothing whatsoever about any such closing, and have to point out that your categorization of the intruders as militants is incredibly premature—”

  “But you confirmed that a break-in took place, am I correct?”

  “Yes, though break-in was the interviewer’s phrase, not mine,” she said. “My purview is the Orion probe and that’s where I wish to keep my focus. In my prepared comments a moment ago, I explained that the shuttle’s remains are being transported from t
he launch site to the Vehicle Assembly Building for reconstruction, a procedure I’ve been busy coordinating throughout the day. The remainder of my time has been spent working out procedural guidelines for the investigation, selecting members of our team, and doing everything I can to let the press know what we’re up to.”

  Annie motioned to another print man, Allen Murdock, a staff reporter with the Washington Post.

  “To stay with the issue my colleague from AP just raised,” Murdock said, “when asked on television whether the events in Brazil could have been linked to Orion, you stated you had no knowledge of it — quote, unquote — but refrained from dismissing the possibility outright. Does that mean there may be signs that they’re related acts of sabotage? And if so, who do you believe might have been responsible for them?”

  “Allen, I don’t think it serves me any purpose to parse words. ‘No knowledge’ means precisely that—”

  “But it’s well known that Roger Gordian has been a steady proponent and financial backer of ISS for many years. If the reports of his company closing up shop in Brazil were to prove accurate, wouldn’t it be reasonable to conclude that the decision was precipitated by a serious threat to his employees?”

  That makes, what, three qualifiers in a single sentence?

  “You’re asking several questions at once, all of them hypothetical, and I’d rather stick to the facts. Again, I’m not sure how this notion about UpLink abandoning the program originated, though it seems to me it’s based on a supposition drawn from a misrepresentation of some remarks that were made on the air earlier, which I think everyone here would agree can really get things in a tangle.”

  Next!

  She pointed to a fresh face. A young woman swimming amid a school of combative males. Sisterly kinship. Feminine rapport. Her press pass identified her as Martha Eumans from CNBC.

  Martha stood. “Should UpLink decide to withdraw its support of ISS, whatever the reason, how seriously would it impact upon the space station’s future prospects…?”