“Don’t speak too soon,” Schuster said grimly.
It was just a few minutes after that when mission control came up again, this time vocally and in plain language. It was Klaber, talking from Kennedy. Schuster was forced to sit in helpless silence under Danvers-Marshall’s gun as the NASA chief tried vainly to raise an acknowledgement. Klaber kept repeating, “Can’t you hear me, Greg? What’s gone wrong with your communication?” until he said in a high, cracked voice that showed his mounting anxiety, “All right, Greg, maybe you just can’t answer, so I’ll just pass the message and hope you receive me.” There was a pause. “We’re doing our best to get another spacecraft up to you, a vehicle that can accommodate five men… Skyprobe V. She’s being prepared for orbit and docking on to you for transfer of personnel. I’ll repeat that.…”
When Schuster had listened to the repetition Danvers-Marshall said, “I don’t believe they can ever do it in the time, Greg, it’ll be a miracle, but if they do it’s not going to help. You’re never going to open up the hatch.”
Next day the world’s Press had moved closer to the truth. Mary Schuster and Linda Morris read it together. Klaber read it and his apprehension mounted. Harry Lutz looked utterly horrified, but not surprised. Grant, the man from CIA, read it and swore viciously and grabbed for a couple of telephones simultaneously; for amongst other things true and untrue, the news had leaked that Professor Danvers-Marshall was aboard the spacecraft.
Right across the world Shaw, too, read some of the papers.
FIFTEEN
Shaw did his reading when the BOAC jetliner touched down at Bangkok on the last-but-one leg of the Hong Kong flight. The headlines were all about Danvers-Marshall and there was almost feverish speculation as to what his presence aboard Skyprobe IV meant and why the news had been kept so quiet. Typical of the secondary headlines was EARLY SPLASHDOWN CANCELLED — SKYPROBE TO ORBIT ON. That was innocuous enough, but another fresh slant came in the smaller print which said, American and British Security Concerned. In the airmail edition of one London newspaper the scientific correspondent wrote: The American CIA are believed to be investigating the possibility of some outside interference with the capsule. It is probably not entirely impossible for a radio signal from earth to be used in such a way that it could cut out the control system of a spacecraft in orbit. If this is on the cards, it would naturally point to some act of a hostile Power, for what purpose one can only guess. It could be merely to prove that such a signal is effective, in which case one would assume the capsule is being used as an experimental guinea-pig. This, however, seems a totally unacceptable theory when one considers the virtual certainty of retaliation against any Power using another nation’s space vehicle in such a fashion. In the light of the recent leak, one is bound to wonder whether the presence of British-born Professor Danvers-Marshall aboard Skyprobe has attracted the interest of some Power who wishes to gain access to Western space data. The news columns of the same paper reported: It is understood that certain movements of United States sea, land and air forces are taking place in the North Pacific, but official spokesmen in Washington deny strongly that there is any connection between these movements and the possibility of the failure aboard Skyprobe IV being due to circumstances outside the control of the crew. Other newspapers carried similar reports and speculation; every one Shaw read carried a leader on the spacemen’s predicament. The thoughts of all the world were centered on them now.…
Shaw looked up from the New York Times soon after take-off from Bangkok to see the hostess hovering over him. She was a tall brunette with blue eyes and an inviting smile. She asked, “Would you like breakfast, sir?”
“Sounds a good idea.” He smiled back at her and took the menu. “Grapefruit, bacon and eggs, and coffee.”
“Thank you, sir.” The girl hesitated by his seat, seeming reluctant to leave him, and looking down at his newspaper. “Isn’t it dreadful… about those men?”
He nodded. “It is. But I’m sure they’ll get them down somehow.”
“Oh, I hope so!” She looked past him, out of the window of the jetliner. The sky was a brilliant blue above them; below was the endless dark green of thick jungle, stretching away to the border with Viet Nam, and beyond to the South China Sea. “In this job… you have a kind of fellow-feeling, more than most. Perhaps it’s presumptuous to say that.. but we’re all fliers basically, aren’t we? It would be too awful if what the papers say is true.”
He looked up at her, at the clean line of her chin as she went on staring out of the window. “What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked.
“About some outside interference, isn’t that what they said?”
“Yes, but that’s just newspaper talk. They have to fill the things with something, haven’t they? Personally, I wouldn’t say that was the case.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked doubtfully. “I’m not so certain. The Communists would do anything. I only hope somebody’s really doing something about it… and not just saying it couldn’t happen that way.”
Shaw smiled. “Sorry!”
She met his eye and flushed. “Oh, I didn’t mean that personally. I’m so sorry. After all, it’s not your job to.…”
“To do anything about it? No… and I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I expect the authorities have it well in mind, you know.”
The hostess nodded and moved away, going forward along the aisle. She stopped at a seat four up from Shaw’s and had a word with a girl who had joined the flight at Bangkok, a girl Shaw had recognized at once, a girl who had studiously avoided him but who was obviously just as aware of him as he was of her. Her presence intrigued him a good deal with its possible implications, for the girl was Ingrid Lange from the Savoy Hotel, London.
Shaw, who meantime had returned to his papers, looking in vain for any factual reports as to the progress on the launch of the second capsule, watched Miss Lange as they all fastened their seat belts for the Hong Kong arrival. What was she on this flight for? Why was she avoiding him — why was she so obviously anxious for him not to acknowledge her? He intended to find that out as soon as they landed. He glanced out of the window as the jetliner lost height; a mist cloud was touching Taimoshan and the mountain peaks on the Red China mainland, bringing to them a mantle of purple and blue as the sun went down the sky in Eastern splendour. All around, the sea was a darkening carpet of ultramarine.
Once they were down and the steps had been run into place, Miss Lange disembarked ahead of Shaw without a backward glance and preceded him to the customs and immigration check. There, while still totally disregarding him, the girl managed to get next to him for the customs examination, making certain he couldn’t miss her hand-case on which was prominently displayed a label bearing the address, Hotel Shanghai. The name on the label was Helma Tegner.
So — Miss Ingrid Lange, if even that was her real name, had a definite purpose in coming to Hong Kong at the same time as himself and he fancied that purpose wasn’t just to stand with him on some moonlit terrace and watch the harbour fights. Well — he would play it her way for now and not approach her just yet. He found a taxi and told the Chinese driver to take him to his own hotel, a somewhat less glamorous, if equally expensive, establishment where he had been booked in from London and which, as it happened, wasn’t far from the Shanghai. After checking in he kept a discreetly-arranged appointment with the Governor and the Commander British Forces. The Governor was clearly a worried man, his anxiety showing in the tired eyes and the jerky movements of his hand as he brushed continually at a close-cropped, grey moustache.