Skyhook (5 page)

“Just a panicked woman with political clout,” he’d grumbled to another officer when the order had come from Washington, overruling him and ordering the search.

A report from one of the C-130s that two people had been spotted in the water in a small survival raft quickly changed the equation. With the Jayhawk minutes away and homing in on the C130’s coordinates for the rescue, the Juneau-bound lieutenant commander glued himself to the telephone link with Kodiak.

“The chopper has two survivors aboard, a male and a female, semi-responsive, both in exposure suits and both extremely hypothermic with extent of injuries unknown. We’re stabilizing and transporting to Anchorage Providence immediately.”

SEHTTLE, WRSHINGTON

Gracie O’Brien thanked her senior partner profusely when he relayed the flash from Coast Guard headquarters and then dialed the Kodiak, Alaska, phone number he’d passed to her. She felt her heart pounding as she waited. Rachel and Arlie Rosen were family.

She’d practically grown up in their home.

The duty officer answered and she fired a rapid string of questions at him, hurriedly taking down the vital information and confirming the names.

“What happened to their plane?”

“We don’t know. All we’re sure of is that they’re both semiconscious, they were found in a life raft and wearing exposure suits, and they had to be lifted out of the water in rescue baskets. But there Ve been no reports of aircraft wreckage or debris in the water.”

“You say they’re hypothermic? They’re both going to make it, aren’t they?”

“Well… I can’t give you a diagnosis, ma’am. There was some mention of possible back injury to the male.”

“Back injury? Was the word paralysis’ used?”

“Well, I don’t know. There’s been a lot of radio conversation, ma’am. No one’s going to know anything until they get to the hospital.”

“But, you do think they’re stable enough to make it?”

There was a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

“Lieutenant, are you still there?”

“Ma’am, you’re kind of putting me in a corner here. I really can’t tell you anything more of substance.”

Gracie took a deep breath. “I see.”

“Those are cold waters out there, and if they were in a plane crash, that inevitably involves a lot of force and impact. Best just to say that we found them alive, and beyond that, I don’t know.”

She thanked him and disconnected, rolling the right words around in her head. She’d always been a terrible liar, and April could usually tell in a second when she was leaving something out or coloring reality. Gracie jabbed at the speed-dial button for April’s Vancouver condo and repeated the primary details as fast as she could when April answered.

“Oh my God!” April gasped. “Are they hurt? How bad?”

“They’re going to be okay, April, but they lost the plane and they’ve been in freezing waters for a couple of hours. They evidently had time to get into exposure suits and blow up a raft, so that’s something. The Coast Guard says they’re being flown directly to Providence Hospital and should be touching down any minute. April? You okay?”

“Yes,” a tiny voice replied.

“Okay, I’ll call your brothers. Have you talked to them?”

“Yes. I talked with Dean and left a message for Sam. Sam’s in Phoenix or somewhere.”

“I’ll call his cell phone. Are you dressed?”

“Huh?”

“Focus, April. Are you wearing anything but a stunned expression?”

“Ah, no. I mean … I’m not dressed.”

“Then put on some clothes, throw a toothbrush and your emergency face kit in a bag, catch the taxi I’m going to order, and head for Vancouver International. Call me from the cab as soon as the driver pulls away from your building.”

“Okay. Oh, Lord, Gracie! They crashed?”

“Your folks are going to need you there in Anchorage as soon as possible. I … can’t come immediately. I’m under the gun here.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’ll arrange a ticket and send the cab. Can you be downstairs in ten minutes?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, kiddo, they’ll be okay. Pull yourself together.”

“I’m together, Gracie. Really. Thank you. Let me ring off and get dressed.”

Gracie replaced the receiver and thought in silence for a few seconds, her mind constructing dark conclusions about the physical condition of Arlie and Rachel Rosen. Had he said paralysis, or had she?

Dear God, let them be whole and intact!

Gracie forced herself to yank up the receiver and start punching in numbers. She had to scramble a cab to pick up April and get her an immediate flight to Anchorage.

The past few hours of Arlie Rosen’s life had passed like a strange dream. There had been helicopters and cold, stinging ocean spray, and when he’d tried to turn over and go back to sleep, the dream got more intense with shouting and flying baskets and hands pulling at him. Now a new sensation was coursing through part of him, pins and needles and an icy hot feeling amid the cacophonous noise of an engine, which he finally decided must be real.

The dream had something to do with his aircraft, but what it was, wasn’t clear. He wondered if Rachel would roll her eyes at the bizarre nature of the story when he told her about it in the morning.

Rachel!

Wait… wasn’t she in bed next to him? Was he home? No, home wasn’t that loud, or cold. He recalled being very cold, and she was, too. He should ask her … if he could just roll over and hold her.

But rolling over seemed strangely difficult. His body wouldn’t respond.

Arlie forced his eyes open and looked to the left, past the hovering face of someone in an orange flight suit. Strange. Why would he dream about an orange flight suit? This dream was getting really weird, and he could see Rachel lying down a few feet away with people hovering over her, too.

“Rachel?” Arlie was pretty sure he had called her name, but he hadn’t heard his voice. Yet Rachel was moving her head and looking in his direction.

That’s okay then, he concluded, trying to smile back at her as he drifted off to sleep just as the door to the helicopter was yanked open by a waiting team of med techs.

ajor General Mac MacAdams had listened for twenty minutes to an unctuous presentation by Joe Davis on why the central feature of Project Skyhook, the so-called “Boomerang Box,” was ready for Air Force acceptance.

“Joe, let’s cut to the heart of the matter here, okay?” Mac interrupted.

“Certainly, General.”

“You and your folks do a great production number, you know. Great graphics, video, sound, and fury. All that’s missing is a soft shoe routine with top hats, and, of course, a truly functional system I can approve.”

“Sir?” Davis looked alarmed, and Mac smiled at his discomfort and sat forward.

“Joe, for God’s sake, don’t you think I’ve been around this business awhile?”

Davis sat back in his swivel chair on the other side of the boardroom, his feigned confidence rapidly leaking away.

“Well, of course I know you’re a very experienced guy …”

“Joe, look at me. Cut the bullshit, okay? When I made brigadier general and a four-star pinned on my star, he shook my hand and said, Congratulations, General MacAdams, no one will ever tell you the truth again.” I’ve always been determined not to accept that tendency on the part of subordinates, and I’m sure as hell not going to accept it from a contractor I need to be able to trust, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe Davis replied, his face a fine shade of gray.

“Something happened last night that threatens this entire project, and you’re not going to happy talk your way out of it.

You know it. I know it. Your guys on the Gulfstream know it, and in fact I imagine they’re working themselves into a frenzy right now trying to solve the problem. Right?”

“Well, yes, they’re working on it.”

“We nearly lost those boys last night, Joe. If nothing else had worked and that Gulfstream had slammed into a. supertanker, we’d be facing another version of the Exxon Valdez” He decided to bypass the fact that two sidewinder missiles had been seconds away from launch on his command. “If that had happened, Skyhook and Uniwave would be history, and my career would be history, just to name the threshold victims.”

Joe Davis took a deep breath and nodded. “I know that, Mac. I was really scared when they couldn’t disconnect, but it was …”

“And I hear you about the bad circuit board. That was the initial problem. You’ve made that point. And I know your guys are out there at the Gulfstream right now on the ramp trying to add a second disconnect circuit in case something strange happens again tonight. But, Joe, there are no emergency disconnects in the Boomerang design. This little box is supposed to bring back a B-52 or even a B-2 if the pilots on board can’t, or won’t, do it themselves. We don’t want a way for anyone on board to disconnect. That’s part of the main safety logic, in case someone ever goes nuts up there. You know the reasons for this black project, for God’s sake.”

“Of course I do.”

“We’re not installing an emergency disconnect on the actual deployed system, and if we need one to buttress the test, then the test fails.”

“But, Mac, it’s a safety issue.”

“Absolutely. No, go ahead and install it tonight, but understand that if you use it, the test is over.”

Davis was trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking slightly and his voice had become raspy with stress. The two other Uniwave project employees in the room were sitting in shocked silence, and trying to look invisible.

Mac MacAdams thrust himself out of the chair and turned to the far end of the carpeted, secure meeting room, his lean, uniformed, six-foot frame towering over the much shorter Davis.

There were framed pictures on the walls, Mac noted. He’d never really noticed them before, but they were the type of evocative aviation images that stirred the heart of a pilot on a primal level. Mac let his eyes rest on one for a few moments, following the amazing vortex of disturbed water trailing a low-flying B-l in terrain following mode buzzing a lake, an image painted so realistically it looked like a photo.

“Joe,” he began, still facing the wall before turning back to the project director. “Here’s the deal. You either lay all the company’s cards on the table right here, right now, or I’ll almost guarantee you non-acceptance. Understood?”

Davis’s hands were out in a beseeching gesture. “Mac, please! I’m trying to level with you.”

“Really? Then explain to me where in that presentation anything was mentioned about the possibility of a logic glitch in the program? Why’d the system drive that Gulfstream down to precisely fifty feet and hold it there, Joe? You think I’m an idiot? That’s not hardware, that’s software, and we’re not going to waste each other’s time explaining why we both know that. Look, I’m not unsympathe ic to your position. I’m interested in keeping our major defense contractors healthy, and I’m certainly aware that you’re hanging by a thread as a company with this project. But what happened last night is not

as simple as you’re trying to make it. So, either I get answers by six p.m. this evening, or the acceptance test is off until next Monday at the earliest, and you’re into contract penalty territory.”

“Six?” Joe Davis looked as if he’d just been handed a death sentence.

“I’ll see you back here, in this room, at six sharp. And, Joe, have Dr. Cole in here as well as the two Gulfstream pilots.”

“Dr. Cole isn’t going to fly tonight’s test.”

“Why not?”

“Ah … scheduling conflict, I think.”

MacAdams straightened and pointed toward the table. “Have him in here, Joe. That’s not an option.” He turned and swept out of the room before Davis could reply.

Ben Cole slowed his pace along the jogging path overlooking Runway 05 and cocked his ear, trying to identify the extra sound rising above the roar of a departing F-15. As the waves of noise from the powerful engines subsided, an electronic warble pulsed into prominence and he stopped to dig out his cell phone and check his message.

“Don’t bother,” a female voice said from a few yards behind. Ben turned, startled to see Lindsey White, his immediate supervisor under Joe Davis, approaching down the path. “The message is from me asking where I could find you.”

“Lindsey! I guess you can find me here.” He glanced at the very same words on the screen and put the phone away, aware that the grey and white fur parka she was wearing had nothing to do with exercising. “I take it you’re not joining me for a run.”

She smiled and shook her head as she came up beside him and tossed back her shoulder-length hair. “My policy is to run only when being chased.”

He smiled briefly and motioned toward the north. “Can we walk?”

“Sure.”

They began moving down the north path in silence before Lindsey spoke.

“You weren’t planning on obeying orders and staying home tonight, were you?”

He glanced over at her, but she was watching the path. “No. I know the system better than anyone, and … it’s my responsibility.”

“But, you’re nervous?”

He looked at her again, this time waiting until she met his gaze.

“Lindsey, I’m terrified.”

“We shouldn’t be talking out here in the open about a black project, so minimize your lip movements and keep your voice very low,” she said, brushing lightly against his side. “You know they’re installing a second emergency disconnect switch?”

“Yes, which is still dependent on the computer. It’ll only work if…” His voice trailed off.

“If what?” she prompted.

He leaned toward her slightly as they walked, wondering if there really was surveillance equipment sophisticated enough to intercept words spoken softly through stiff lips. “Lindsey, I’ve tried to tell everyone that whatever went wrong last night is more than a bad circuit board. It’s somewhere in the software code, and if it happens again, remember that we’ve given this system a whole bunch of pathways to choose in taking over complete control of the airplane.”

“Ben, wait,” she said suddenly as she stopped him. “I’m not making a pass at you or issuing some sexual invitation, okay?”