Roberto’s scowl deepened. “Lemme see your purse,” he said, grabbing it from her lap. He rummaged through, tossed the cell phone onto the floor without noticing it was on, flipped open her wallet and yanked out credit cards, driver’s license, photographs.
April sat there, afraid to move, afraid to say anything. Roberto pulled her Astro Corporation identification badge from the purse.
“Looks like a cop’s ID,” he growled.
She realized he couldn’t read. “That says Astro Corporation. See the big A with the rocket trail circling around it?”
He looked unconvinced, but he muttered, “No gun. No pepper spray, even.”
“I’m not a police officer,” April said.
“Maybe,” Roberto replied warily.
A tap on the front door made him whirl around. The door, still slightly ajar because Roberto had broken the lock, swung inward to reveal an overweight middle-aged man in the tan uniform of the county sheriff’s office. He had a heavy black pistol strapped to his hip.
“Pardon me,” he said, stepping into the living room. “We got a phone report of a disturbance in here:”
Roberto rose slowly to his feet, so menacingly that the policeman put his right hand on the butt of his nine-millimeter.
“Disturbance?” Roberto said. “We di’n’t hear no disturbance.”
Kinsky stirred to life, shrieking, “He broke in here! He’s holding us against our will! He’s going to kill us!”
Roberto shot him a murderous glance. “Tha’s a fuckin’lie!”
But the police officer pulled his gun from its holster. “Maybe we’d better go down to the station and see what’s going on here. He dipped his chin slightly to the two-way radio clipped to his epaulette.”Got a disturbance here. Request backup.”
April wanted to cry, she felt so relieved.
Washington, D.C.
Senator Thornton relaxed in her high-backed leather swivel chair and tried to keep from smiling.
“He actually did it, then?” she asked. “The flight test was a success?”
Sitting before her desk was an associate director of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Her lanternjawed angular face looked far from happy; her lean bony body was all uncomfortable angles. Her hair was dark brown, but with a reddish tinge that told Jane she was dyeing it. Two men sat flanking her. The older of them, from the Department of State, was dressed in a conservative dark blue suit and rep tie, his salt-and-pepper hair carefully styled, his rather bland face even more carefully expressionless. The younger man, who had a receding hairline, chubby pink cheeks, and wore a checkered sports jacket, was an analyst from the National Reconnaissance Office.
“He’s done it all right,” said the NRO analyst. “Our satellite imagery shows the spaceplane landed at the Caracas airport this morning. His people are already bringing up a mobile crane to haul it onto a flatbed trailer.”
Turning to the State Department representative, she asked, “And the government of Venezuela hasn’t protested?”
The man blinked slowly once, then answered, “Not a word from them. Apparently Randolph set up authorization to land at Caracas well beforehand.”
How like Dan! Jane thought. That’s why he wanted a contact in Venezuela. The sneaky sonofabitch. He runs rings around all of us.
The NASA woman spoke up. “I’ve checked with the FAA. They’re furious with him, but Randolph seems to have obtained all the permits he needed to launch from Matagorda Island.”
“So he’s perfectly within his rights?”
The three of them glanced at one another, then nodded. Glumly, Jane thought.
“I’m not on the space subcommittee,” Jane said to the NASA administrator, “so pardon me if this is a naïve question, but couldn’t this spaceplane replace your old space shuttle? Wouldn’t it be useful for carrying astronauts to and from the International Space Station?”
“It certainly would,” the woman replied. “We were working on a similar vehicle several years ago but the program got axed.”
“And yet Astro Corporation has one up and flying,” said Jane.
The NASA administrator’s square jaw went up a notch. “They killed a pilot testing it.”
“Yes,” Jane conceded. “That’s true. Still, today’s test was completely successful, wasn’t it?”
The administrator understood Jane’s implication. “Senator, he doesn’t have to work within the government’s regulatory environment,” she said with some irritation. “I mean, NASA was forced to cooperate with the air force on our spaceplane project. Plus we’ve got a standing army of scientists, safety specialists, environmental protection people, even trade unions hanging onto us every step of the way. Not to mention congressional committees.”
“I didn’t mean to criticize,” Jane said mildly. “I merely meant that NASA could buy working vehicles from Astro Corporation.”
The administrator started to respond, took a breath, then said, “I suppose the agency could do so, if directed that way by Congress.”
Jane thought she sounded more than a little resentful. They don’t like having Congress tell them what to do. And they don’t like giving up their monopoly on the technology, even worse.
The NRO man said, “Senator, we’ve heard some rumors that Astro’s first flight might have failed because the plane was sabotaged.”
Jane’s brows went up. “I would think you’d know more about that than I would.”
With a deprecating little smile, NRO replied, “Now, Senator, you know that the National Reconnaissance Office isn’t allowed to run investigations into anything. That’s the FBI’s turf. Or CIA.”
“Of course.”
“But if the spaceplane was sabotaged, and if a foreign power or some terrorist group was involved…” He let the implication dangle.
Jane allowed herself a cool smile. “I think I should consult with the FBI about that, don’t you? Or the Department of Homeland Security?”
The NRO analyst nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s what you should do.”
Sitting up straighter in her big chair, Jane said, “Thank you all very much. This has been very informative for me.”
They knew they were being dismissed. Murmuring their deep appreciation and perpetual willingness to be of assistance to her, the three of them left the senator’s office.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Jane pecked at her phone console and began to arrange a flight back home to Oklahoma. I’ve got to see Dan, she told herself. I’ve got to make certain that this flight doesn’t go to his head and he doesn’t go tearing off on the wrong track.
Kelly Eamons had arrived at the Calhoun County sheriff’s office near midnight, while the sheriff and four of his deputies were still questioning April, Kinsky, and Roberto.
At the station house they had put Roberto in one room, under guard, while they kept Kinsky and April in a separate little room. Kinsky, who had been absolutely silent every moment that Roberto had held them in the apartment, turned into a nonstop fountain of words once the police moved Roberto out of his sight.
April listened as Len repeated over and over his tawdry little tale: He needed extra money to pay his divorce lawyer. Roberto approached him at the motel bar one evening and offered to pay for information about what Astro Corporation was doing.
“Nothing terrible,” Kinsky insisted. “Just information on how the company was doing financially, what programs we were pushing, when we’d launch rockets, that sort of stuff.”
“Industrial espionage,” April had prompted.
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Kinsky gratefully. “Industrial espionage:”
“And when did you first meet him?” the sheriff asked.
Kinsky tried to determine the exact date, but the closest he could pin it down was “a couple months ago.”