by Scott Rhine
“Tell you what. I’ll write you up a piece of paper making you Federal Security Liaison for Project Phoenix, and you can deal with the Bureau,” he said, tapping out an official letterhead memo on his office computer.
PJ’s first victim among the Feds was Bell. She wasn’t too keen on letting all those people go, until PJ showed her the NASA memo and reminded her of the magic quote from the regional director. She grumbled a little and went to see the counter-espionage team. The people would all still need to be interviewed eventually, but those other than the prime suspects could be released from confinement.
Within half an hour, word got to Quan. “Good news and bad, Phoenix.”
“Bad news first, then, Control. I don’t want people up here to get too optimistic,” said Quan.
“Roger that. Approach vector on the satellite must be made on the following trajectory. Transmitting. If you come in too fast, the satellite will track you as a hostile. Too slow, and you will not intercept in time.”
“There has to be a mistake, Control. This will take forever. We won’t have more than a few hours of spare oxygen. If we do this, we might not even have enough to reenter,” Quan complained. “What’s the good news?”
“In a few minutes, we’ll have your specialists for you.”
After double-checking the list against the results of their investigation, the Feds freed up all but three of the people from the NASA hostages. The fourth suspect had been visible on security cameras for the entire shift and, thus, had an alibi. The remaining suspects would be questioned for another two hours or so, and then the Feds planned to leave the Cape. Unfortunately, about half of those released had been up too long under these stressful conditions to be of any help. Some outright refused to aid authorities who had detained them without due process. Though the remainder filled out the ground crew nicely with the help of the remote links to Brazil, Russia, and several observatories paid for by Fortune Aerospace.
Even with experts recomputing the approach path and the Phoenix pilot pushing the tolerances to the last decimal point, their progress was agonizingly slow. A small complement of FBI agents stayed behind at Buzz’s request to help increase security. The new liaison was issued a photo-ID badge to hang on his borrowed suit jacket. Someone handed PJ an electric razor, and he took the hint. Meanwhile, one more suspect was released when eyewitness testimony accounted for her whereabouts the hour before and after the murder. The final two suspects were fingerprinted and taken to a local jail to await vindication by crime scene evidence.
PJ made himself useful by finding out where the vending machine snacks were stored and keeping a steady supply of refreshments flowing to everyone who was actually working. Buzz eventually remembered his computer experience and put him to work analyzing a local network glitch along with a few junior technicians.
****
Fortune pulled Daniel aside at lunch time. “You know that Professor Sorenson wasn’t your real father.”
“Duh. I went into high school at thirteen. It’s hard to hide things from a kid like that when he’s learning about Mendel in biology,” said the teenager. “The Sorensons told me when I was a freshman.”
“This may come as a shock, but…”
“You’re my biological dad? Again, I’m not stupid.” Fortune was dumbfounded, so the boy continued. “I could tell by the DNA echo we were related. I just didn’t know how closely till now. My guess is you were a sperm donor when your biotech firm was strapped for cash—Nobel short-list swimmers, get ‘em while they’re hot!”
The billionaire turned red. “It was a little more complicated than that. This isn’t easy for me.”
“Oh, now you’re Mr. Sensitivity. When you were telling your driver in the front of the house that Trina was a glorified hand puppet, that’s the Dirt Bag I know.”
“Calm down. I didn’t…”
“Know she could hear you? We had the windows open.”
“What do you want? I can give her more money for her horses…”
“Screw money, how about some respect!” People stopped eating to stare. Even Claudette paused in her feverish work. “You owe her an apology. Because if I have to choose between you and her, you know how that story ends.”
Fortune fish-mouthed, at a loss for words. Wheezing, he grabbed an inhaler. Doc Vader stepped closer. Daniel lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t have yelled, but when people say those things about her, I can feel what she feels.”
“You’re right,” Fortune whispered.
“Are you going to need my wheelchair?” Daniel asked jokingly.
“Soon, son,” he said in all seriousness. Fortune walked over to Trina. “My dear, you rival any of the models I dated in my bachelor days. Daniel is a lucky man. I know you are much more intelligent than you ever let on. Jezebel always tells me I’m being a sexist pig. A man who did what you had would probably be my new head of security. Alas, I have become what Vonnegut calls a barnacle.”
Trina blinked, then looked at Daniel. “You said that the gypsy woman who gave you the Oobie page was a friend of your ‘father.’ I think she was purposely vague. Jez found financial records from the time to indicate her benefactor was Fortune, not Sorenson. He’s the biggest shithead I know, but he loves you. That means he’s not a total waste of protoplasm. Let him talk.” Then she went back to her bean-curd and alfalfa-sprout wrap.
Calmer, Daniel asked him, “What did you want?”
“Maybe an invitation for Christmas and birthdays, as well as a chance to tell my side.”
Daniel nodded.
“You were right about the timing. Sorenson’s sister, Brenda, was one of my lab assistants. She had a case of hero worship where I was concerned; even I could see it. I never took advantage of her. Then, when I got my eviction notice and the FDA refused to return my calls, I crumbled. You have no idea the depression I felt; for an entire year, I couldn’t even get an erection.”
The teen raised both eyebrows at this.
“Brenda was an angel, convinced me never to give up. Her faith changed me. I stayed one night with her. I wanted to spend more, but felt like a dirty old man. The next day, I got the idea for my X-Ray specs program. I became obsessed. I disappeared, vowing not to see the light of day again until I could save my company.”
Fortune stared at the wall where sticks and balls made an increasingly complex mathematical figure. “Brenda had post-partum depression and killed herself before I knew she was pregnant. Your uncle took custody. I was only a name on the birth certificate. I got a letter about the paternity in the mail but I thought it was another collection notice.”
The billionaire handed over a wallet photo of a young woman in a lab coat. “Is this Claudette as a teenager?” Daniel guessed.
Fortune shook his head. “That’s your mother, Brenda, at twenty-three. Because of her suicide, her brother destroyed all photos of her, all mention of her name. Before I even heard the news, it was her archetype that I blocked from the program. I wanted to honor her, thank her, but it was too late. I pursued Claudette because I wanted…to fix my mistakes, to prove myself worthy. Unfortunately, I just went on to make new errors.”
Trina came over and squeezed Daniel’s shoulder as he stared at the photo in shock. “Can he keep this?”
“Yes. I have others.”
The clone decided to press her luck. “Do you love Claudette or is she just a replacement?”
The question hurt Fortune, and he glanced away. “Since then, I dated over a hundred Brenda analogues. None of the others were mature enough or had the fire. Claudette’s my match. I just never felt I was good enough for her.”
Trina whispered in Daniel’s ear. “Someone kept Swami Rama from getting on the plane.”
“There are other eyes,” said Fortune, hoping for more time with his son.
“Jez needs us,” Daniel said, removing all possibility of debate. “I know how hard this must have been for you. Thank you for the effort and telling us about my mother.” He shook his father�
��s hand and went back to his apartment to grab their travel gear.
Four hours later, the technicians had to stop to put more memory boards in the computer-aided-design machine. This gave them an opportunity to eat an early supper and for Elias to tell Claudette the truth. She gazed straight ahead at the model the whole time. Many hours later, she put the last piece in place. After she took off the sweat-soaked gloves and goggles, she told him, “Take me home.”
Fortune was stunned. “You forgive me?”
“We’ll talk. No sex, but you can share my bed. If half of what I overheard today is right, I don’t want to be alone. In spite of yourself, you’ve turned out to be a good man, Elias.”
Chapter 51 – The News
PJ took thirty minutes in the main computer room to find the first gremlin. All the people tromping around behind the machines had loosened a cable. So now, every time someone closed the door or walked by, they lost packets of data. PJ tightened the cable and a whole subnet magically started working again. Alvarez solved the next mystery for them. Just after PJ spotted an octopus outlet about ten feet from the crime scene, he noticed that it had exactly one plug missing from the center. “Did the killer use this outlet?”
“Oh, no, we were using that for the vacuum,” the agent said, casually.
“I don’t want to explain how many things were wrong with that statement,” PJ said, locating the nearest plug without a home. A console nearby rattled to life, displaying a plethora of critical warning messages. Tracking down these errors and double-checking all the connections in the room took hours of tedious labor.
****
Benny had cramps the whole flight. They got worse as he came in for a landing in Miami. “What’s wrong?” asked agent Normandy when the actor ducked in the bathroom to splash his face with cold water and take a handful of aspirin.
“Either the Ethics page is killing me, or I’m feeling what Jez is,” Benny reasoned.
He checked his text-messages first. He read them to Normandy while they walked to the car-rental area. “No one by her name has been admitted, but there was a blonde Jane Doe checked into one of the ERs last night.” Benny looked up from the phone screen and smiled briefly before the next line made it vanish. “But corporate security couldn’t find her. Something happened with her paperwork.” He scanned over attached documents that had been illegally obtained from the hospital computers. She was unconscious and only had a minor gunshot wound to the right hand. In passing, he noted the ‘date of last period’ in the exam—today. After a moment to recover, he went on to an e-mail that contained more bad news. “The secretary says the only set of eyes we have on this coast has a priority assignment from Tom, a senior envoy who works for us.”
Finally noticing the voicemail, Benny said, “I don’t know anybody named Tyrone.” However, he listened to it anyway and turned ashen. Normandy grabbed the phone and hit replay.
The agent made a call of his own. “Normandy, Vegas office. I’m inbound with the husband of an apparent kidnapping victim. Is there anything unusual happening at Cape Kennedy tonight?”
To Benny, he said, “There are news crews everywhere. Something big is going down there, but no one is talking. The International Space Station was shot down. Missiles are flying. They even had a hostage crisis. Your wife sure knows where the action’s at.”
Benny phoned Tom, “I need to borrow your eyes. Five minutes to find Jez.”
Tom was surrounded by engine noise and the buzz of people. “I can’t do that. There’s been a new Quarterback designated. Midas confirmed the play, and tied me in with the security folks here. My job is to protect this PJ Smith. It’s not easy.”
“Active?”
“Weakest I’ve ever seen. And he’s blundering around like Mr. Magoo. I think he’s just so sleep deprived he’s almost killed himself a few times. We can’t leave this situation,” Tom insisted.
“You don’t understand. I think she’s been kidnapped again.”
Tom paused before saying, “I sympathize, but Jez herself called it. The whole project, the whole world, hinges on what these people do tonight. I can’t afford to take my eyes off them for even a minute. She took this hit for the team.”
“She told me the same thing. Damn it!” The pressure to confess was building in him again. He also needed a quick, mundane way to locate someone, but Jez had asked him to help this understaffed defensive line. “What do you need?”
“Some story to take the heat off them for a few hours and distract the news crews. NASA can’t even get cars in and out without everyone inside making world news. The thing we’re tracking bends radio waves, so they need an alternate way to contact it.”
“Kind of like the Eye in the Sky. We could call this the Evil Eye.”
“I like that. The broadcasting equipment we procured is on huge trucks. We’ll transmit almost line of sight when Quan gets near the Evil Eye, using NASA’s scramblers to encode the signal. However, we can’t let the media see it or someone could figure it out.”
Benny realized how he could hit several birds with one stone. “I’ll give you a news conference like you’ve never seen!” After hanging up, he asked his companion, “Agent, can you get me there before the eleven o’clock news is over?”
Normandy smiled. “I’d have to go a hundred. Forget your rental, we need a police car. Then, maybe.”
“Point me to a cop who has what you need, and I’ll talk him into it.”
****
Alvarez got a call on his radio as they were wrapping up in the computer room. “The media is finally getting their press conference. They’re all heading down to the theater for some kind of announcement.” PJ looked at his watch: 11:20. Ten more minutes left on tonight’s news report.
He continued, “I’m supposed to sneak you out to the helipad. There’s a load of VIPs from the graveyard. Bell wants you to keep them happy and out of her hair.”
“Graveyard?” PJ asked.
“Spooks.”
PJ had forgotten his role as liaison. Once inside the helicopter, the programmer got a shock. Three of the spooks were white, male nerds younger than him. The head nerd was overweight and had what appeared to be barbeque sauce on his tie. The quarters were a little cramped, but the helicopter was the only place they could be sure wasn’t bugged or microphoned. Their head technician, code-named Elroy, turned on a device about the size and shape of a hockey puck before they could speak. PJ had seen a similar paperweight at Paulson’s house in Potomac.
The spokes-nerd shook PJ’s hand and said, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Smith; you can call me Mr. Spacely while we’re here. This is George, Elroy, and Astro. Astro has worked with NASA before.” Like so many others, he subtly stressed PJ’s last name to let him know that he knew it was an alias. Alvarez had to be having a hard time holding that straight face. “I suppose you know why we’re here?”
PJ shrugged. “We’re planning on blowing up your satellite in five hours, and you wanted a front row seat?”
Elroy replied, “We already tried that before we came. We’re here because somebody here changed the codes.”
“We know there’s a mole.” Alvarez explained that the two espionage suspects remaining, Myers and Kemp, had been taken to the local jail for detention. They were welcome to interview the suspects if they liked. Mr. Spacely handed Alvarez an official-looking document and said, “Myers is to be released; she’s working for us.”
“No offense, gentlemen, but so was Paulson.”
Astro volunteered information. “Her job was keeping a lid on Cassavettis during the launch. She wouldn’t have had the time or inclination to change the destruct codes.”
“You know where to find her,” said Alvarez, departing.
“We’ll have a talk with Kemp while we’re there. Maybe he’ll feel a sudden urge to confess,” Mr. Spacely said ominously. PJ jumped out of the copter before they decided to take him along on the ride.
****
The police car pulled up to the theate
r with five minutes to spare. Benny had memorized Tom’s script on the way there. When the tech asked him what he wanted for an introduction, Benny handed him his phone. “I think Ship of Fools would be appropriate; you can get the instrumental version off this.”
Journalists snapped photos as he walked to the podium, and TV reporters murmured amongst themselves. “Surprise,” he said, winning them over with his best smile. “I’m here to tell you about Project Phoenix, the future of space. My wife, Jezebel, heads the collaboration effort. Our project was designed to be an international effort to put Cold War technology to a new and more constructive use. Our goal is to stop the militarization of space and take the next leap forward. Instead of Star Wars, with the new Reuters-Cassavettis drive, we can have practical travel to other worlds.”
He paused to tighten the hook and emphasized every word. “We’re not talking about some day, billions of dollars from now. I’m promising you results today, a demonstration here by sunrise that will change the face of this planet.”
He droned on with the script, making it sound natural. “There are always a few travails in any birth. Not everyone wants change and freedom. Decades of research…” He was losing them, so he switched gears. “I would have been here sooner but our head of corporate security was just blown up by a suicide bomber, and the wife of our CEO was kidnapped. We got Claudette back, but now Jez is gone.”
Agents and PR people were switching from the teleprompter to Benny, panic-stricken. Tom gave him a thumbs-up. Trucks with people and equipment were rolling in. Benny placed an 8x10 wedding photo on the front of the podium. He began by listing her height and weight. “She’s missing the little toe on her right foot, has a bullet wound in her right hand, and may be disoriented or unconscious.” He choked a little at this. “Please, someone out there must have seen her. If you have, please call the Miami branch of the FBI.” He recited the number he had memorized. “Thank you.”
****
Lydia, the nurse, had been watching from home while eating her ice cream. She dropped the bowl in shock. She called the FBI offices immediately after cleaning up the mess.
