“You have a little less than twenty minutes to prepare your initial dispatches for filing,” Tsuginoni Moriyama, the media rep, was telling them. His English was impeccable, and he constantly smiled. “We would like you to move to the viewing stands no later than T-minus sixty minutes. Or, if you wish, you may elect to remain here and watch the launch on the television monitors. Tapes will be provided for you after the launch. But I must caution you that we have only a limited number of telephones and digital feeds off the island. Because of other sensitive equipment here, you may not use cellular or satellite equipment from now until T-plus thirty minutes.”
There were a number of groans, and several heads shot up.
The press officer looked around the room. He was still smiling. “If there are no questions, other than the use of cellular or satellite equipment, this will be your last briefing until after the launch when we will meet here at T-plus thirty minutes.”
An attractive, middle-aged woman raised her hand. “Judith Rawlins, New York Times. I would like to interview the American Tiger team before the launch.”
“I’m sorry, that is not possible,” the press officer said. “At this moment, as you might guess, they are extremely busy at the launch control center.”
McGarvey, who was sitting a few feet away from the New York Times reporter, heard her say, “Bullshit.”
“No more questions?” The press officer looked around the room, then nodded. “Well then, wish us luck, and we’ll see you back here once we’re in orbit.” He stepped away from the podium and disappeared through a door in the back.
The New York Times reporter remained seated and took some notes while the others headed down the corridor to the media communications center. A table was set with a coffee and tea service. McGarvey poured two cups of coffee and came back to where the reporter was seated. He held a cup out to her.
“I didn’t know if you used cream or sugar,” he said.
She looked up, smiled pleasantly, and took the coffee. “Black will do fine,” she said. “Thanks. Do I know you?”
“Pierre Allain, AP Brussels.”
“Judith Rawlins, New York Times.” They shook hands, and McGarvey sat down beside her.
“I had an ulterior motive bringing you coffee,” he said.
She laughed warily. “Most men do. What’s your story?”
“I’d like to get an interview with Frank Ripley too, or at least with one of his team members, before the launch. But if they’re in launch control I’m afraid I’m out of luck. But you didn’t seem to think the press officer was telling the truth.”
“They’re not there. They’ve been taken off the mission.”
“How do you know that?”
She eyed him speculatively, then shrugged. “I have a friend in Houston. What’s your interest in Ripley?”
“I have a friend in Houston too.”
“What’d he tell you?”
“He’s lost contact with his people and he’s worried. What did you get from your source?”
Her attitude suddenly got chilly when she realized that he knew nothing more than she did. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t share that with you,” she said. “You know how it is.” She got to her feet. “But it doesn’t matter if we’re stuck here until the launch.”
“If they’re not at launch control, where would they be?” McGarvey persisted, looking up at her.
“In their quarters, I imagine.”
“Where’s that?”
The woman was done with the conversation, but she put down her notes, took the briefing package from McGarvey and pulled out a map of the space center. She circled one of the buildings and handed it back. “Good luck.” She smirked, then left the briefing room and headed down the corridor to the communications center.
McGarvey studied the map until she was out of sight. He was going to need some information, and the only people here who would be willing to help him were the Americans on the Tiger team. It was worrisome that he would have to place them in danger, but he could see no other way around the problem. And he was going to have to get to them very quickly, because he was running out of time. It meant he was going to have to start taking some even bigger chances.
He put his coffee aside and stood up. Media reps, or information specialists as they were called at Kennedy, had the free run of the facility as part of their jobs. He hoped it was the same here.
He crossed the room and went through the door that the media rep had used. A short corridor led straight back to an exit door. Two empty offices were on the right, and two offices, both occupied, were on the left. He found Moriyama in the last office, talking to someone on the phone. The press officer held his hand over the mouthpiece. “Go back to the communications center, you do not belong here.”
“Ms. Rawlins had a problem. You must have seen her pass this way.”
Moriyama said something into the phone, then hung up and came over to McGarvey. He wasn’t smiling. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought she came to see you, but she must have gone outside.”
Moriyama sprinted down the corridor and out the exit door. McGarvey came right behind him. When they were outside in the parking lot, he pulled out his gun.
“I won’t kill you, if you do exactly as I say,” McGarvey told him.
Moriyama could hardly believe what was happening. He stepped back a pace. “What do you want?”
“I have to talk to someone on the Tiger team, and you’re going to drive me to their barracks.”
“Impossible—”
McGarvey raised his pistol directly at the man’s head. “I’ll shoot you right now if I must.”
Moriyama glanced at one of the Toyotas. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish.”
McGarvey cocked the Walther’s hammer.
Moriyama stepped back, his hands out. “Okay, okay, I’ll take you there,” he said. He got in the car and McGarvey hurried around to the passenger side and climbed in beside him.
The media rep started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and headed the few blocks over to the visitors’ housing building. “They’re being guarded. You’ll never get inside.”
“You’re going to get me in,” McGarvey said. “I’ll have my gun in my pocket, and if there’s any trouble you’re the first one I’ll shoot.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yes, I am.”
They drove the rest of the way over in silence. A van was parked in front of the building. Moriyama pulled in beside it, and he and McGarvey got out of the car and went up to the two guards. Moriyama flashed his pass, and the guards waved them on without a word.
Inside, they found themselves in an empty dayroom. A corridor led to the back of the building, and there were stairs to the left.
“Okay, we’re here, now what?” Moriyama asked.
“I want to see Frank Ripley.”
Mariyama blanched. “You can’t,” he stammered. “He’s not here.”
McGarvey pulled out his gun. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s gone. He flew out this morning. Maybe he’s up in Sasebo.”
“What about the rest of the Tiger team?”
Moriyama hesitated just a second, and McGarvey raised his pistol, pointing it directly at the man’s face. Moriyama turned and took the stairs up to the second floor and down the corridor to the last room on the left.
“Who’s room is this?”
“Captain Attwood. She’s in charge now that … Major Ripley is gone.”