“
I
don't know if we can be ready in sixteen days,” Newton Kilbourne said. He and George Socrates sat with David Kennedy in the first-class section of the P/C2622 in her Gales Creek assembly hangar. The cabin was ninety-five percent complete. The only major work left to be done inside was on the avionics in the cockpit.
“Al Vasilanti wants it. He set the date,” Kennedy said.
“We all understand why, and I don't blame him, but it doesn't alter the facts.” In actuality, except for the hypersonic engines, the airplane was nearly ready to fly. The FAA's chief regional certification inspector was willing to issue a one-flight airworthiness certificate that
would allow Guerin to conduct one test flight over unpopulated areas and for a limited duration. That flight could be conducted tomorrow. The real problem was with unk-unksâunknown problems that couldn't be predicted but always cropped up in the design and manufacture of anything so complex as a modern jetliner. “We've had our share of unk-unks on this project, David. No reason to expect anything has changed.”
“I understand what you're saying. But short of the FAA grounding us, or you or George telling us flatly that we can't fly, we're on for Honolulu in sixteen days.”
Kilbourne thumped his fist on the armrest of his seat. “It's too soon, goddammit, and you know it.”
“I tend to agree with Newton, but not strictly for technical reasons,” Socrates said. He'd arrived back from the crash investigation yesterday and had thrown himself into the final pre-test flight preparations and inspections.
“Are you telling me that we can't be ready to fly?” Kennedy asked.
Socrates shook his head. “We can do an initial test flight the day after tomorrow, which would leave us two weeks to fix anything that crops up, and make at least three additional one-certificate runs. If we were trying for hypersonic or even supersonic speeds now, I'd definitely say no.”
“But?” Kennedy prompted.
Socrates took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with the end of his tie. “Dulles was very bad, David.”
“I know that,” Kennedy replied too sharply. “I know.”
“There was nothing wrong with our airplane, nor was there anything wrong with the Rolls engines. Sending our AOG teams around the world to switch power plants does nothing but waste money and shake our image.”
“Something we don't need just now,” Kilbourne put in.
“But our airplane did fall out of the sky,” Kennedy said.
“Yes, it did,” Socrates agreed solemnly. “We looked for evidence of sabotage, but we didn't find a thing. Sam Varelis says that the Board will probably rule in March that the crash was caused by faulty turbine blades in the port engine. Sir Malcolm wants to disagree, but he's caught in the middle.”
“You don't believe it.”
“The engine swallowed a blade, but I don't know why.”
“We've done a fault-tree analysis,” Kennedy said.
“Nothing showed up.”
“But you have a gut feeling.”
Socrates nodded.
“It shouldn't affect this airplane, George,” Kennedy said reasonably. “Completely different engines from the frame out.”
“I know. But the break-in and killing here is one more link in what could be a very big and nasty chain. I sat in on some of your meetings with McGarvey. I talked with him, answered his questions, listened to what he had to say. He's a very bright man, David, but he's an alarming man. He's made me think about things I believed were no longer possible. Hitler is dead. Stalin is dead. Hirohito is dead. And the Cold War is over. We won.”
“That's exactly why Al wants this flight to go as advertised. Show them that we're not about to cave in.” Kennedy shrugged. “There's nothing wrong with this airplane. If some unk-unks crop up we'll fix them.”
“There was nothing wrong with our airplane now lying in ugly piles at Dulles.”
“It could have been tampered with on the ramp in Moscow by the Russians or by the Japanese, or hell, by someone else with a grudge against Americans. Functioning airplanes don't crash.”
“A glitch.”
“Yes, and that's something we can't protect against no matter what the circumstances are, George. Just like clear air turbulence and wind shear used to be major problems.”
“There would have been an indication,” Socrates said. He was tearing himself apart with this. He was an engineer. Effects had causesâit was axiomatic.
“There'll be another big difference between this flight and the one into Dulles.”
Socrates looked up. “What's that?”
“We left Moscow after nothing more than a routine pre-flight. Before this airplane leaves for Honolulu it will have been tested from stern to stern a dozen times. You are personally going to oversee that every single system and subsystem aboard is at or above specs.”
“What about the engines?” Kilbourne asked.
“I spoke with Sir Malcolm. He's sending a team. In fact they ought to be showing up later today. Put them to work.”
“Who'll be crewing?”
“Pete Reiner and John Callahan. Northwest has agreed to loan us fifteen flight attendants.”
It took a moment for what Kennedy said to sink in, and when it did Kilbourne and Socrates were stunned.
“What are you talking about?” the engineer demanded.
“We'll carry a full load out to Honolulu and back,” Kennedy said evenly. He knew that this was going to be the worst part, especially for Socrates. It's the reason he met them here. The airplane was an impressive piece of machinery.
“Engineers, technicians, monitoring equipment?”
Kennedy shook his head. “Al Vasilanti and his wife. Me and my wife. You two, Fred Taich, Gary Topper, and Larry Cross.”
“The Vice President of the United States?”
“Yes. Along with Tom Holder and most of his House Subcommittee on Aviation, a few senators, a couple of representatives from the FAA, the news media, of course, and the Russian ambassador.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Kilbourne said in awe. “Al has lost his mind.”
“We're trying to run an airplane company, Newton,” Kennedy flared. “America may be painted on the fuselage,
but our name is stamped on the airframe. We've bet the farm on this project, and it either works big or we go under. It's come down to that.”
“Somebody wants us to fail,” Socrates said.
“That's right,” Kennedy agreed. “That's why we hired McGarvey.”
“They'll be targeting this flight.”
“I have no doubt of it, George,” Kennedy said evenly. “Which is why we've got to do it.”
“Every passenger and crew member will have to be screened electronically, their baggage searched.”
“The Vice President will be aboard so I'm sure the Secret Service will help out.”
“Okay. If Reiner and Callahan are available now, I want them to fly all the test flights. The first one goes the day after tomorrow, and I'll schedule four others before the Honolulu flight.”
“I'll have them out here tomorrow,” Kennedy said. “They might as well be involved with your pre-flights.”
Socrates turned to Kilbourne. “I want your people down here along with Fred Taich's shop. We're going on around-the-clock shifts starting now.”
“Make it fly, George,” Kennedy said.
Socrates looked at him. “That I will. And the day she returns from Honolulu is the day I retire.”
Â
“In a few minutes my driver and bodyguard will take me over to the Kremlin where I will be expected to give my recommendation. Do we retaliate against Japan for the sinking of our frigate, and if so, what form shall this retaliation assume?”
General Polunin handed a series of photographs to SUR Director Karyagin. “These are the latest RORSAT shots over the Tokara Strait and East China Sea, including the island of Tanegashima.”
Karyagin studied the photos and then put them aside. “There has been no battle between the American destroyer and the Japanese submarine?”
“Not yet. Apparently the
Thorn
received orders from
Seventh Fleet to stand aside and allow the
Samisho
passage through the strait.”
“It looks as if the
Thorn
was also ordered to follow the submarine.”
“That's what we think, Mr. Director. But look at the Japanese air base on Tanegashima. Photographs six and seven.”
Karyagin looked at the two pictures. “A lot of activity.”
“Too much activity. The base is on alert, as are the Japanese Air and Maritime Self Defense Forces on Hokkaido in the north.”
“It's not unexpected, General. The Japanese are aware that we may make some response.”
“Agreed, Mr. Director, which explains their state of readiness on Hokkaido. But why Tanegashima in the south? Those are waters they share with South Korea, not us.”
“What are you getting at?” Karyagin asked. He was annoyed by Polunin's continued preoccupation with conspiracy theories.
“I'm suggesting that we proceed with a great deal of caution until we're absolutely certain we have all the facts. There is simply too much going on that we cannot explain. Even
Abunai
is telling us that the situation in Japan is explosive at the moment.”
“Apparently he's produced no hard intelligence for us,” Karyagin complained sharply.
“That's because of the increased risks he's facing. But I'm told that he is on the verge of gaining access to the Kobe Bank
zaibatsu
's confidential meeting records. Something may turn up soon. But if we accelerate the situation by attacking a Japanese warship or ground installation, there is no predicting what will happen.”
“You must know that there is a strong sentiment at the Kremlin to make a show of force.”
“At the very least the American government would probably revoke its license for Guerin to export aircraft technology to us, and certainly the loan guarantees would be lifted.”
“Which is why, General, I was asked to help devise a plan so that any attack we might make against Japan would seem to be self-defense. The Americans still have the cowboy mentality.”
“Have we developed such a plan?”
“The Defense Ministry may have something. What else have you brought to help brighten my day?”
“The FBI has begun its investigation of Kirk McGarvey, as we expected it would, given the information that was made available to it. But it seems possible that the CIA is cooperating with the FBI. If that's true, it may mean that McGarvey is not working for the Agency after all.”
“He works for Guerin Airplane Company, as he claims?”
“It seems more likely now than it did before.”
“But the CIA is cooperating with McGarvey?”
“He still has friends at Langley, Mr. Director. But the FBI is apparently taking its investigation in a direction that never occurred to us.”
“Continue,” Karyagin said dourly.
“It may be attempting to tie McGarvey to a series of murders in Washington and California and Oregon centering around Guerin and the company's troubles with the Japanese. The issue that McGarvey asked us to help with.”
“Do they actually suspect the man of working for the Japanese?”
“I don't know that yet.”
“But it's information that you will get?”
Polunin nodded. He could see that a veil had been lifted from Karyagin's eyes. The director was beginning to understand just how powerful a sword and shield the SUR still wielded.
“Should I know this source, General?”
“Like
Abunai
there is no reason for you
not
to know the name of our penetration network in Washington.”
Karyagin shook his head. “And no reason other than my own ego at this moment for me to know.”
Polunin was surprised. It was quite an admission for
someone to make, especially a Russian and especially a man in Karyagin's position.
“No, sir.”
“But there is something else you have to tell me. I can see it in your eyes.”
“We learned that McGarvey spoke with someone from Japan Air Lines in Washington a few days ago and that now he has shown up in Tokyo.”
“McGarvey is in Tokyo?” Karyagin sat back. “What is he doing there? Have
Abunai
find out.”