Skyprobe (11 page)

“Check.” Latymer was staring at him keenly. “So?”

“So they’re not likely to be operating from inside the Soviet Union—I mean, they won’t want to bring the capsule down inside their own territory. That would be asking for trouble—Skyprobe’ll be tracked all the way down by radar, obviously. Well now—as I see it, they’ll have an extended base somewhere, a base not too far off from which they’ll take over the capsule after it’s ditched, wherever they originate their interceptory signals—or whatever the method is they mean to use. The radio base, if that is the scheme, could be inside Russia, I suppose—but I’m pretty certain the recovery base itself won’t be.”

“Go on, Shaw.” Latymer’s eyes were half closed now. “Where would you suggest we start looking?”

“I’ve already suggested the North Pacific. I rule out the seas north of Russia—we have to make some assumptions and I’m assuming they wouldn’t risk Danvers-Marshall’s valuable neck by attempting to divert the capsule into ice-bound waters. But I repeat, the recovery base would have to be somewhere near Soviet territory because of transportation problems afterwards. Of course, the operation could very well take place from a ship at sea, I suppose—a vessel that could hoist the capsule aboard and into her holds and then head for a Communist port.” He hesitated. “Look, sir. The North Pacific is a pretty vast area ... I’d suggest I might be able to pick up something, and narrow the field a little, if I were to use say Hong Kong as a sounding-board. How does that strike you, sir?”

Latymer operated the sliding panel again. The map disappeared. “It sounds fair enough, Shaw, for a try-out. Once we find that recovery base, we’re half-way home—or even nearer than that. We can show ’em up before the world and after that they’ll pack their bags and go home and forget all about Danvers-Marshall and the capsule. Butter won’t melt in their mouths.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “I’ll suggest to Washington that the North Pacific might well be worth giving priority attention to, and as for you—you can leave for Hong Kong by the first available aircraft and see if you can pick up something ahead of the Americans. If you can do that, we might just be forgiven for the export of Danvers-Marshall.”

* * *

Latymer had the Prime Minister and the Minister of Defence out of bed early. A full report for Washington was authorized and encyphered and passed to the radio branch for urgent priority transmission at 0536 hours GMT and this was received in the American capital at 0119 hours Eastern Standard Time. In this message the British Government suggested that there was no point whatever, in view of Thixey’s statement that the capsule could be interfered with at any time it was ordered to ditch, in making any further attempts at an early splashdown. The longer it could remain in orbit, the message said, the better would be the chances of finding the interference base. In the view of the British Government, to find the base before anything happened represented the only hope the West would have of preventing an act of war taking place. There was also a suggestion that Danvers-Marshall himself could possibly, and for reasons not so far known, have intentionally inhibited the retro-rockets in order to delay the premature ditching. This was advanced simply as a theory in the light of the startling information that Danvers-Marshall was known to be an intending defector to the East and that he had a part to play in the interception; it was admitted that such an action did not tie up with Thixey’s statement that the interference programme could be put into effect at any time.

* * *

“It’s screwy and they seem to admit just that,” Klaber said. “God knows, though, we need something to work on!” He was still rocked rigid by what he had been told of the London report concerning Danvers-Marshall and also he’d been having a bad time reading the papers. These had been rushed to him almost on the heels of London’s message, which had been phoned through on the closed line from Washington after decyphering and due deliberation by the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Klaber looked up at the clock; even now the time was only 8:15 ... his mind went back to the papers. Another carefully prepared statement had been issued by the Press the night before, saying that everything was under control, that the spacemen were unworried and the fault would be rectified shortly. The speculation of the newspapers’ opinion-writers, however, was coming pretty close to the truth—which was, that no-one could even guess at what would happen to the capsule now and no-one had the vaguest idea what to do about it. Klaber went on, “We all know the British are not too clever securitywise, but Danvers-Marshall was screened over here as well. So if he’s a Red we slipped up too—or your boys did, anyway.” The man he was talking to was from Washington, a top man from CIA who had flown south without delay shortly after the British Government’s report had been considered in the capital. “God damn it, Grant, I know Danvers-Marshall, well!” Klaber shook his head; faith in his own judgment showed obstinately in his face. “I don’t see him as a traitor. And what in heaven’s name could he
do
to the equipment up there and still leave no indications of any fault, even if he could do
anything
without Schuster or Morris being aware of it?”

Grant sidestepped the question. “Not my job to know that, Mr. Klaber. It’s yours.” He smiled. He was a bleak man, with a pointed face and sharp eyes, wearing a cheap suit possibly because he felt more anonymous in it.

Klaber sighed, got up from his desk and began pacing the room, backwards and forwards. After a while he stopped. He said, “Listen. There’s one thing I’m not having, and it’s this: I’m not alerting those men in space that Danvers-Marshall’s supposed to be a Red, that—”

“But wait a minute, Mr—”

“Wait a minute, nothing!” Klaber snorted. “Look . . . you’ve never been in space. Neither have I—but I’ve lived a good many years now with men who have, and I’ve been in the simulator for longish periods. That gave me at least a little insight into what it’s like for them. I can understand the stresses and strains on those men up there. I can understand the loneliness, the feeling of being so totally cut off from earth and families and all the ordinary things of life. Those men are up there for a hell of a long time, Grant. Twenty-one days may not seem much to you, it soon goes.” He waved his arms. “Okay—it does, down here! But up there—well, it’s entirely different. I doubt if I can ever make you appreciate fully just how different everything appears. Physically you’re different, too— weightlessness is not
just
a lack of gravitational pull, it’s a way of life while it lasts. That’s just one point. I could go on for hours if I had the time. But I’ll just add this: any trouble in that capsule resulting from the sort of disclosures you want to make, could lead to minder being done. At the least there could easily be some irreparable damage to the equipment and the control systems and then they’ll never come down again, whether or not these people interfere as London says they will! So—it’s just not on. I’m sorry, but I guess the thought of a fight in space just scares the pants off me. Remember,
I’m
responsible for the safety of those men, and I just can’t see what’s to be gained by stirring things up inside the capsule. It can’t possibly
help
the situation, Grant.”

Grant said peaceably, “Now look, Mr. Klaber—”

Klaber snapped, “No-one but the President himself is going to get me to change my mind.”

Grant said, “Uh-huh. Now, if you’ll just let me put my point of view—right? That’s fair, isn’t it?” He looked at his watch.

Klaber’s teeth came together with a snap. He took another couple of turns up and down the room, getting himself under control. Then he sighed. “All right,” he said with resignation. “Go ahead, if you must.”

“Thanks.” The CIA man cleared his throat and pointed his face at Klaber. “I’m going to suggest, and I know I’ll have full backing on this from Washington, that a message is drafted and cyphered up right away for transmission to Schuster, with full information on all we know from the British Government, the message to be despatched from the Pentagon as soon as it has Presidential authority, which I guess it’s going to have in fact after I’ve talked to the White House, Mr. Klaber.” He raised his voice as the NASA chief broke in again. “Please let me finish. I suggest Schuster be told the order to ditch ahead of schedule is now countermanded, whether or not the retro-rockets are serviceable, or become serviceable, unless he himself can deal with Danvers-Marshall and put him out of action so he can’t play his part in the interference programme. Failing this, we follow the British suggestion that Skyprobe IV remains in orbit right to the end of its twenty-four hours maximum extension limit to give the longest time possible to find the base these people are using. Schuster must in fact be told all we know about Danvers-Marshall. . . just a moment, Mr. Klaber . . . because if Danvers-Marshall is a defector as we now know he is, and an integral part of the plan, then he should know the whereabouts of this interference base. Right? It’s going to be Schuster’s job to deal with him and get that information out of him if he can. We can’t possibly pass up the only real chance we may have of finding out the whereabouts of that base in time. You see that, don’t you, Mr. Klaber?”

Klaber didn’t answer right away but after a few moments he said slowly, “Why, yes, I go along with you on that.”

“Fine. Now, in the meantime, down here on the ground, our agents’ll be active in trying to find a lead of their own . . . as a matter of fact we started on the questioning of known Red sympathizers as soon as we had the first word through from London about a threat—now we step it up, but fast! Of course, there’ll be no Press releases about the Communists’ known intentions. There’s no sense stirring up alarm on a world-wide scale and getting public opinion

dangerously emotionalized. The same goes for the spacemen’s families—we do not want any leaks at all on this side of the world, so they’re not to be told anything about this outside threat. That stands unless and until the President says different, Mr. Klaber. You’ll have to dream something up for the papers to cover any queries as to why Skyprobe isn’t after all being brought down early.” Grant gathered up a sheaf of documents and stuffed them into a briefcase. He stood up. The trousers of the cheap, anonymous suit bagged at the knees. “If it’s humanly possible, Mr. Klaber, we’re going to find that interference set-up long before Skyprobe reaches its twenty-four hours extension limit—even if Schuster can’t make Danvers-Marshall sing.”

* * *

Grant had asked and obtained permission to use the security line to Washington and soon after he had gone the White House came on the line and put the President on. No time was being lost, it seemed. The President repeated what the CIA man had said; and Klaber was told that a ‘go’ had been given to the Pentagon for the despatch of the revealing message to the astronauts. The President asked, “What about the second space vehicle, Klaber?”

“Skyprobe V . . . we’re doing all we can, Mr. President, but the computer fault is not corrected yet and frankly I’m in two minds about the wisdom of sending her up anyway. We don’t want a gun fight in space, and we can surely take it Danvers-Marshall is armed. I suggest that once we’ve reported the situation to Schuster, if that’s what you really want, Mr. President, we’ll be better able to reach a decision on this point. As I see it, from what London has told us, these people need help from Danvers-Marshall . . . so if Schuster can deal with Danvers-Marshall he should be able to bring Skyprobe IV down safely. Then there’s the point Grant of CIA made—Schuster can maybe get Danvers-Marshall to talk about the whereabouts of the base. In either of these cases, Mr. President, we would not need Skyprobe V—”

“Maybe,” the President broke in. “But if Danvers-Marshall wins out up there, and I agree we have to assume he’ll be armed and may manage to get control—and if neither us nor the British find the base in time, then sending up the second spacecraft to try a docking operation may be the only thing left.”

“But Mr. President . . . they can’t go into docking procedure without co-operation from Skyprobe IV, and if Danvers-Marshall is in control—”

“I said it may be the only thing left to
try
, Klaber. If it comes to that, I’ll be banking on Danvers-Marshall losing his nerve once he sees another capsule with an armed crew aboard coming in to dock. Klaber, I want you to go right ahead with the preparations—and keep on remembering we’re right up against the time factor.”

* * *

At 0930 hours Latymer pushed a folder across his desk and said, “Here’s your airline ticket, Shaw. The Governor’s been warned to expect you. Your job is to pick up any leads you can on any unusual goings-on in the North Pacific area. Remember you have to find that base within the next five days. Currently we have two hopes—the second spacecraft, and you. Have it well in mind that if this thing can be kept out of the hands of the generals and the admirals and what-not until we can face the Communists with the truth and show up both them and their base before the whole world—then we’ll have a chance of avoiding war. But once the military moves in ahead of us, we’ve all had it. Admirals and generals shouldn’t be let loose except in the sunniest and most idyllic conditions of perfect peace.” He opened a file on his desk. “Meanwhile, I have a report from the Special Branch. It doesn’t help us at all. All ports and airfields have been closely watched but they’ve failed to produce Rudolf Rencke—he’s vanished. He was probably slipping through our fingers under an alias and with irreproachable papers long before you got away from that house, or he may have gone a similar way to Katherine Danvers-Marshall. Talking of her, that Polish ship, the Czestochowski, has already berthed in Leningrad—so that’s that. The Special Branch has sealed the Purfleet house, but the birds had flown, as I—”

“Flown? They were all dead!”

“Except the girl, Beatty,” Latymer said, looking irritated. “I should have said
bird
, in the singular. Someone must have gone in to get her before the Special Branch made it.”

* * *

Ten minutes later Shaw was in a fast car heading out for London airport and the first leg of the long flight to Hong Kong.