“They were setting it up to look like a crash, but something went wrong,” said Fisher. “That’s what I think.”
“We flew over that area several times during the search.”
“Not that far north.”
“We did go over it.”
“It’s beyond your grid. And a lot of that shoreline would be covered by trees from above. That may have been part of the idea.”
“You’re way off base, Andy.”
“Here’s your chance to prove it.”
Gorman said nothing.
“You wanted me to interface with the Canadians, right?” said Fisher. “Consider this taking you up on your offer.”
“As a matter of fact, Andy, why don’t you just go search the lake yourself. Jump in it, as a matter of fact.”
Fisher stuck the cigarette in his mouth. “Sarcasm isn’t your thing,” he said, leaving.
Firenze squeezed his eyes so hard, the eyeballs hurt. The recycled air of the protected research facilities was triple-filtered and adjusted for humidity as well as temperature, but something in it nonetheless aggravated his sinuses and seemed to drain all the moisture from his body.
Even if Colonel Gorman’s theory was true and Cyclops One had been hijacked or stolen, he still couldn’t explain what had happened to the F/A-22Vs. While it seemed logical that some sort of kill command had been sent from Cyclops One to the Velociraptors, there was no evidence in the telemetry data. Not one integer was out of place or unaccounted for.
They’d looked at everything, even the radar altimeter. There was no way the accident had occurred. No way.
The scientist slid his chair back. Fatigued, his brain no longer functioning properly, he decided there was only one thing to do: He pulled out his laptop and fired up Free Cell.
Firenze had gotten through one deal when he was interrupted by a loud
Fisher, the FBI agent.
“You look like a Pepsi guy,” said Fisher, handing him the can.
“Thanks. Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“You want to finish the game first?”
Firenze killed the game without saving it. “Just helps me think, you know?”
“Cigarettes are less frustrating,” said the agent.
“More expensive, though.” Firenze laughed.
“You know what happened to the Velociraptor yet?”
“I’ve been working on it. What happened was impossible. It was like snapping off a power switch. Except that it came back on.”
“Maybe there was a loose wire somewhere and Howe just hit it hard enough to get it to reconnect,” said Fisher. He pulled over a chair and sat on the back, his feet balancing it on the floor. “Used to have a TV like that. You had to slam the top a couple of times to get the colors right.”
Firenze laughed again, though they’d actually checked into a more sophisticated version of the agent’s theory.
“You think Howe faked it?”
“Faked it?”
“Like he didn’t really have a malfunction.”
Firenze shook his head.
“You didn’t think of that, did you?” The FBI agent took a long sip from his coffee.
“No, I didn’t. But Colonel Howe would never be involved in something like this. Never.”
Fisher nodded slowly. “What about Megan York?”
“I don’t think she would, either.”
“Other people on the plane?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Tractor beam,” said Fisher suddenly.
“Tractor beam?”
“Sure. That Russian spy plane — has a giant tractor beam. Flashes through the air, tows Cyclops One back to base.” Fisher smiled. “I talked this thing over with one of my guys back at the Bureau. Hope you don’t mind. He knows a lot about computers and stuff. Not too good at Free Cell, though.”
“Why would I mind?”
“He thought it had to be one of two things,” said the agent. “One, it didn’t really happen to Howe. Or two, there’s a command in your computer that erased itself.”
“The code couldn’t have erased itself. We can see all the commands,” explained Firenze.
“You can see the commands you’re set up to see.”
“Well, yeah. That’s everything.”
Fisher looked at him for a minute, then shrugged and stood.
The environmental system, thought Firenze: the circuit that controlled the heater and the air conditioner.
No way.
But they hadn’t checked it.
Fisher dug into one of his pockets. “This cell phone — you can get me anywhere, anytime. Works all over the place. Unless you call from my boss’s phone. That’s blocked out.” He unfolded a bent business card from his other pocket and gave it to Firenze. “You get something, give me a call, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Really okay?”
“Really okay,” said Firenze.
“I think you’re right about Howe,” Fisher said. “For what it’s worth.”
Chapter 13
Bonham considered not picking up the phone, since he’d already told his assistant that he was leaving, but then habit got the better of him. He picked up the handset and then practically barked into the mouthpiece, intent on scaring off anyone who wanted to waste his time.
“Bonham.”
“General, this is Dr. Blitz. I have a request. I realize it’s unconventional, and I want you to speak candidly and without prejudice in response.”
Bonham sat down in the chair and listened as Blitz briefly outlined the situation in India and Pakistan. The bastards were really going to kill themselves, Bonham thought.
“Could Cyclops Two be positioned to strike the helicopters before they attacked?” asked the national security advisor.
“Of course.” The words slipped out of Bonham’s mouth automatically, without any consideration whatsoever. Blitz obviously realized that and asked the question again.
This time Bonham thought about the problem more carefully. It wasn’t simply a matter of sending the airplane halfway around the world. Its entire support team had to go as well.
But it could do it. One of the early simulations as well as a war game exercise had outlined almost exactly
