The governor made a pained smile. “They’re not patriots, Jane. The oil industry isn’t American; it has no loyalty to any nation.”
“Oil money funds terrorism,” said Kinsky.
“That’s why we need power satellites,” Dan said. “To cut down their power over us.”
Scanwell nodded slowly, yet Dan could see the question that still lingered in his eyes: But what if you fail?
“We can do it,” Dan repeated. “If I can just get the money to move ahead before I have to shut down the whole operation.”
The governor got to his feet and stuck his hand out. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Dan. Let me see what my people can come up with. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”
Standing, Dan took his extended hand. “I appreciate anything you can do, Governor.”
Dan knew he was being dismissed. He glanced toward Jane but she refused to meet his eyes.
Scanwell looked almost embarrassed. Without releasing Dan’s hand, the governor said, “Uh, come on over here with me for a minute, will you, Dan?”
Dan allowed the governor to lead him into the suite’s spacious bedroom. The bed was neatly made; there was no sign of clothing or luggage in sight.
Nudging the door shut, Scanwell said, “Dan, Jane’s told me what you two meant to each other years ago.”
Surprised, Dan didn’t know what to reply.
“Do you still love her?”
Dan nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to say what he truly felt.
Scanwell’s craggy face edged into a rueful smile. “Well, I do, too, you know. She means the world to me.”
“More than the White House?” Dan blurted.
The smile faded. “I sure hope I never have to choose between them.”
Damn! thought Dan. Why’s he have to be so goddamned honest? This’d be a lot easier if he was a sonofabitch.
Matagorda Island, Texas
It took an effort for Dan to keep his mind on business. Scanwell loves Jane, he kept thinking. And she’s right there, by his side almost every day, while I’m down here trying to sort out the wreckage.
“So was it sabotage or not?” Dan snapped.
Tenny, seated backward on a chair with his chin resting on his hairy forearms, hiked his dark brows at his boss’s impatience. “I’m damned sure it was. But I can’t prove a friggin’ thing.”
Dan got up from his desk chair and walked to the window. Down on the hangar floor a dozen men and women were still moving among the twisted bits of wreckage, more than half of them in blue work shirts with FAA or NTSB stenciled on their backs.
“They’re never going to leave, are they?” he muttered.
“Federal employees, boss,” said Tenny. “They can spend another year on this.”
“While we go broke.”
“That’s not their concern.”
Turning back to the engineer, Dan blurted, “Joe, what the hell do we do? Tell Passeau about it? Call the FBI? What?”
“Passeau’s coming around to the sabotage idea on his own. Give him another couple days.”
“And then what?”
“Then he’ll call the FBI, I guess.”
“And then what?”
Tenny shrugged. “They find the skunk in the woodworks.”
Heading back to his desk, Dan said, “Joe, I want a list from you of everybody on our payroll who might have done it. Everybody with the technical smarts to sabotage Hannah’s flight.”
“That’s not gonna do much good, boss. Anybody smart enough to knock off the spaceplane is smart enough not to let us see how smart he is.”
“I still want the list,” Dan said, knowing it was most likely nothing more than busywork.
With a stubborn shake of his head, Tenny replied, “You’re on the wrong track. It isn’t one of our tech people.”
“Says you.”
“Says logic,” Tenny snapped. “Remember logic? Thinking with your brain instead of your glands?”
Dan plopped down in his desk chair and waited for the engineer to continue.
“If it was a spurious command to the thruster that caused the crash, it had to come from a ground station or a plane in flight along the reentry ground track. That means outside people. People who are organized. People who have high-tech toys to work with.”
“Not one of our employees?”
“Our people were all here, Dan, on the job. Everybody in their places with bright shining faces.”
“So how’d the bastards get our command codes?”
Tenny grimaced. “Bribery. Blackmail. Threats. How the hell do I know.”
“You’re saying that somebody in the company sold the command codes to an outsider.”
“Or gave them. Maybe under duress.”
“Who in the Seven Cities of Cíbola could it be?”
“Anybody who had access to the codes. Not just techies, either. Secretaries. Cleaning crew. Anybody.”
Dan huffed out a breath. “That’s a big help.”
“That’s the facts, boss.”
“They’d have to know the ground track of the reentry path, too. And the timeline. They’d have to know where the plane was when it started its reentry maneuver.”
Tenny’s brows rose. “Right! Now you’re starting to think.” “So whoever sold us out had to be somebody with access to the command codes and access to the flight’s timeline and ground track.”
“That narrows it down,” Tenny said. He jumped up from the chair and headed for the door. “Okay. Now I’ve got a small-enough list to work with.”
“Keep me informed,” Dan called after him. Silently he added, And don’t tell anybody else about this. He thought Tenny already knew enough to keep quiet.
As soon as Tenny breezed out of the office April appeared at the door, looking cool and in charge of herself. Dan thought of the old aphorism, If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs—it shows you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation.
“You got two calls,” April said, “while you were in conference with Dr. Tenny.”
Dan tapped the keyboard on the credenza that extended from the left side of his desk. The computer screen showed a call from Wendell T. Garrison of Tricontinental Oil. And a call from Senator Jane Thornton in Washington, D.C. His breath caught in his throat.
Suddenly embarrassed, he waved April out of the office with a gruff, “Okay, thanks, kid,” and clicked his mouse on Jane Thornton’s name and number.
She wasn’t available, of course, but a serious-faced young aide told Dan that the senator would call him back. Telephone tag, Dan fumed as he clicked on Garrison’s name.
To Dan’s surprise, the old man himself appeared on the screen.
“Mr. Randolph,” Garrison said in his creaky, raspy voice, smiling genially. “Nice of you to return my call so quick.”
“It’s good of you to call,” Dan responded, wondering how much bullshit they would have to throw at one another before they got down to serious talk.
“My board of directors is interested in your powersat project,” Garrison said.
Surprised at the man’s directness and even more surprised at his interest, Dan said merely, “Really?”
“Yep. Think you can find the time to come up to Houston and talk to me about it?”
Dan thought, Another shark in the water. Better count your fingers when you shake hands with him. And your toes.
But he said, “I’d be happy to. I’ll tell my secretary to set it up with your people.”
“Good,” said Garrison. “Put your secretary on the line and I’ll do the same from this end.”
“Right.”
Before Dan could switch the call, Garrison added, “I assume you’ll want to set this meeting for sometime this week, right?”
“If that’s convenient for you,” Dan replied.