dk.solesurvivor-第28部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　　'Supposedly　burned　to　powder；　vanished；　no　trace；　gone；　goodbye；'　Barbara　said。
　　'What　about　the　puter　that　was　processing　the　digitised　version？'
　　'Scorched　garbage。　Nothing　in　it　salvageable。'
　　'But　you　still　have　your　copy。'
　　She　shook　her　head。　'I　left　the　cassette　in　my　hotel　room　while　I　went　to　a　breakfast　meeting。　The　contents　of　the　cockpit　tape　were　so　explosive；　I　didn't　intend　to　share　it　right　away　with　everyone　on　the　team。　Until　we'd　had　time　to　think　it　through；　we　needed　to　be　careful　about　when　and　how　we　released　it。'
　　'Why？'
　　'The　pilot　was　dead；　but　his　reputation　was　at　stake。　His　family　would　be　devastated　if　he　was　blamed。　We　had　to　be　absolutely　sure。　If　the　cause　was　laid　in　Captain　Blanc's　lap；　then　tens　of　millions…even　hundreds　of　millions…of　dollars　worth　of　wrongful…death　litigation　would　ensue。　We　had　to　act　with　due　diligence。　My　plan　was　to　bring　Mario　back　to　my　room　after　breakfast　to　hear　the　tape；　just　the　two　of　us。'
　　'Mario　Oliveri；'　Joe　said；　referring　to　the　man　in　Denver　who　had　told　him　last　night　that　Barbara　had　retired　and　moved　back　to　Colorado　Springs。
　　'Yeah。　As　head　of　the　human…performance　group；　Mario's　thoughts　were　more　important　to　me　at　that　moment　than　anyone's。　But　just　as　we　were　finishing　breakfast；　we　got　word　about　the　fire　at　the　labs…about　poor　Mirth。　By　the　time　I　got　back　to　my　room　with　Mario；　the　copy　of　the　tape　I'd　made　over　the　phone　was　blank。'
　　'Stolen　and　replaced。'
　　'Or　just　erased　on　my　own　machine。　I　guess　Mirth　told　someone　that　I'd　duped　it　long…distance。'
　　'Right　then　you　must　have　known。'
　　She　nodded。　'Something　was　very　wrong。　Something　stank。'
　　Her　mop　of　hair　was　as　white　as　the　feathers　on　the　head　of　the　eagle　that　had　overflown　them；　but　until　this　moment　she　had　seemed　younger　than　fifty。　Now　she　suddenly　seemed　older。
　　'Something　wrong；'　he　said；　'but　you　couldn't　quite　believe　it。'
　　'My　life　was　the　Safety　Board。　I　was　proud　to　be　part　of　it。　Still　am　Joe。　They're　damn　good　people。'
　　'Did　you　tell　Mario　what　was　on　the　tape？'
　　'Yeah。'
　　'What　was　his　reaction？'
　　'Amazement。　Disbelief；　I　think。'
　　'Did　you　show　him　the　transcript　you'd　made？'　She　was　silent　a　moment。　Then：　'No。'
　　'Why　not？'
　　'My　hackles　were　up。'
　　'You　didn't　trust　anyone。'
　　'A　fire　that　intense　。　。　。　there　must　have　been　an　accelerant。'
　　'Arson；'　Joe　said。
　　'But　no　one　ever　raised　the　possibility。　Except　me。　I　don't　have　faith　in　the　integrity　of　their　investigation　of　that　lab　fire　at　all。　Not　at　all。'
　　'What　did　the　autopsy　on　Mirth　reveal？　If　he　was　murdered　and　the　fire　set　to　cover　it…'
　　'If　he　was；　they　couldn't　prove　it　by　what　was　left　of　the　body。　He　was　virtually　cremated。　The　thing　is　。　。　。　he　was　a　really　nice　guy；　Joe。　He　was　sweet。　He　loved　his　job　because　he　believed　what　he　did　would　save　lives；　help　to　prevent　other　crashes。　I　hate　these　people；　whoever　they　are。'
　　Among　the　white　pines　at　the　foot　of　the　meadow；　near　where　Joe　and　Barbara　had　first　entered　the　clearing；　something　moved：　a　shadow　gliding　through　deeper　shadows；　dun　against　purple。
　　Joe　held　his　breath。　He　squinted　but　could　not　identify　what　he　had　briefly　glimpsed。
　　Barbara　said；　'I　think　it　was　just　a　deer。'
　　'If　it　wasn't？'
　　'Then　we're　dead　whether　we　finish　this　talk　or　not；'　she　said　in　a　matter…of…fact　tone　that　revealed　the　bleak　and　paranoid　new　world　order　in　which　she　lived　following　Flight　353。
　　He　said；　'The　fact　that　your　tape　was　erased…didn't　that　raise　anyone's　suspicions？'
　　'The　consensus　was　that　I'd　been　tired。　Three　hours'　sleep　the　night　of　the　crash…then　only　a　few　hours　the　next　night　before　Mirth　called　and　woke　me。　Poor　bleary…eyed　Barbara。　I'd　sat　listening　to　the　tape　over　and　over；　over　and　over；　and　at　the　end　I　must　have　pressed　the　wrong　button…you　know？…and　erased　it　without　realizing　what　I'd　done。'　Her　face　twisted　with　sarcasm。　'You　can　see　how　it　must　have　happened。'
　　'Any　chance　of　that？'
　　'None　whatsoever。'
　　Though　Joe　unfolded　the　three　sheets　of　paper；　he　didn't　yet　begin　to　read　them。
　　He　said；　'Why　didn't　they　believe　you　when　you　told　them　what　you'd　heard　on　the　tape？　They　were　your　colleagues。　They　knew　you　to　be　a　responsible　person。'
　　'Maybe　some　of　them　did　believe　it…and　didn't　want　to。　Maybe　some　of　them　just　chalked　it　up　to　my　fatigue。　I'd　been　fighting　an　ear　infection　for　weeks；　and　it　had　worn　me　down　even　before　Pueblo。　Maybe　they　took　that　into　account。　I　don't　know。　And　there's　one　or　two　who　just　plain　don't　like　me。　Who　among　us　is　universally　loved？　Not　me。　Too　pushy。　Too　opinionated。　Anyway；　it　was　all　moot…because　without　a　tape；　there　was　no　proof　of　the　exchanges　between　Blanc　and　Santorelli。'
　　'When　did　you　finally　tell　someone　you'd　made　a　transcript　word　for　word？'
　　'I　was　saving　that。　I　was　trying　to　figure　the　right　moment；　the　right　context　in　which　to　mention　it…preferably　once　the　investigation　turned　up　some　detail　that　would　support　what　I　said　had　been　on　the　tape。'
　　'Because　by　itself　your　transcript　isn't　real　proof。'
　　'Exactly。　Sure；　it's　better　than　nothing；　better　than　memory　alone；　hut　I　needed　to　augment　it　with　something。　Then　those　two　creeps　'woke　me　in　the　hotel　in　San　Francisco；　and　after　that　。　。　。　Well；　I　just　wasn't　much　of　a　crusader　any　more。'
　　Out　of　the　eastern　forest；　two　deer　leaped　in　tandem　into　the　bottom　of　the　meadow；　a　Buck　and　a　doe。　They　raced　across　the　corner　of　the　clearing；　quickly　disappearing　into　the　trees　on　the　northern　perimeter。
　　Under　the　skin　on　the　back　of　Joe's　neck；　ticks　of　apprehension　still　burrowed　and　twitched。
　　The　movement　he　had　glimpsed　earlier　must　have　been　the　two　deer。　From　their　volatile　entrance　into　the　meadow；　however；　he　inferred　that　they　had　been　flushed　from　the　trees　by　something
　　…　or　someone…that　had　frightened　them。
　　He　wondered　if　any　corner　of　the　world　would　ever　feel　safe　to　him　again。　But　he　knew　the　answer　even　as　the　question　passed　through　his　mind：　no。
　　No　corner。　Not　anywhere。
　　Not　ever。
　　
　　He　said；　'Who　do　you　suspect…inside　the　Safety　Board？　Who　did　Mirth　call　next　after　you？　Because　that　person　is　probably　the　one　who　told　him　not　to　pass　the　word　any　further…and　then　arranged　to　have　him　killed　and　the　evidence　burned。'
　　'It　could　have　been　any　of　them　he　was　intending　to　call。　They　were　all　his　superiors；　and　he　would　have　obeyed　their　instructions。　I'd　like　to　think　it　can't　be　Bruce　Laceroth；　because　he's　a　bedrock　guy。　He　started　out　a　grunt　like　the　rest　of　us　did；　worked　his　way　up。　The　five　board　members；　on　the　other　hand；　are　presidential　appointees；　approved　by　the　senate　for　five…year　terms。'
　　'Political　hacks。'
　　'No；　actually；　the　great　majority　of　the　board　members　over　the　years　have　been　straight…shooters；　trying　to　do　their　best。　Most　of　them　are　a　credit　to　the　agency；　and　others　we　just　endure。　Once　in　a　while；　yeah；　one　of　them　is　slime　in　a　suit。'
　　'What　about　the　current　Chairman　and　Vice　Chairman？　You　said　Mirth　Tran　was　going　to　call　them…supposing　he　wasn't　able　to　reach　Laceroth　first。'
　　'They're　not　your　ideal　public　servants。　Maxine　Wulce　is　the　Chairman。　An　attorney；　young　and　politically　ambitious；　looking　out　for　number　one；　a　real　piece　of　work。　Wouldn't　give　you　two　cents　for　her。'
　　'Vice　Chairman？'
　　'Hunter　Parkman。　Pure　political　patronage。　He's　old　money；　so　lie　doesn't　need　the　job；　but　he　likes　being　a　presidential　appointee　and　talking　crash　lore　at　parties。　Give　you　fifteen　cents　for　him。'
　　Although　he　had　continued　to　study　the　woods　at　the　foot　of　the　meadow；　Joe　had　seen　no　further　movement　among　those　trees。
　　Far　to　the　east；　a　vein　of　lightning　pulsed　briefly　through　the　dark　muscle　of　the　storm。
　　He　counted　the　seconds　between　the　silver　flash　and　the　rumble　of　thunder；　translating　time　to　distance；　and　ascertained　that　the　rain　was　five　or　six　miles　from　them。
　　Barbara　said；　'I've　given　you　only　a　Xerox　of　the　transcript　I　wrote　down　that　night。　I've　hidden　the　original　away。　God　knows　why；　since　I'll　never　use　it。'
　　Joe　was　torn　between　a　rage　to　know　and　a　fear　of　knowing。　He　sensed　that　in　the　exchanges　between　Captain　Blane　and　First　Officer　Santorelli；　he　would　discover　new　dimensions　to　the　terror　that　his　wife　and　daughters　had　endured。
　　Finally；　Joe　focused　his　attention　on　the　first　page；　and　Barbara　watched　over　his　shoulder　as　he　followed　the　text　with　one　finger　to　allow　her　to　see　where　he　was　reading。
　　Sounds　of　First　Officer　Santorelli　returning　to　his　seat　from　the　lavatory。　His　initial　ments　are　captured　by　the　overhead　cockpit　microphone　before　he　puts　on　his　headset　with　the　boom　mike。
　　SANTORELLI： Get　to　L。A。　（unintelligible）；　I'm　going　to　chow　down　on　so　much　（unintelligible）；　hummus；　tabbouleh；　lebne　with　string　cheese；　big　plateful　of　kibby　till　I　bust。　There's　this　Armenian　place；　it's　the　best。　You　like　Middle　East　food？
　　Three　seconds　of　silence。
　　SANTORELLI： Roy？　Somethin'　up？
　　Two　seconds　of　silence。
　　SANTORELLI： What's　this？　What're　we　。。。　Roy；　you　off　the　auto　pilot？
　　BLANE： One　of　their　names　is　Dr。　Louis　Blom。
　　SANTORELLI： What？
　　BLANE： One　of　their　names　is　Dr。　Keith　Ramlock。
　　SANTORELLI： （with　audible　concern）　What's　this　on　the　McDoo？　You　been　in　the　FMC；　Roy？
　　
　　When　Joe　inquired；　Barbara　said；　'The　747…400s　use　digitised　avionics。　The　instrument　panel　is　dominated　by　six　of　the　largest　cathode…ray　tubes　made；　for　the　display　of　data。　And　the　McDoo　means　MCDU；　the　multi…function　control　and　display　unit。　There's　one　beside　each　pilot's　seat；　and　they're　interconnected；　so　anything　one　pilot　enters　is　updated　on　the　other's　unit。　They　control　the　Honeywell/Sperry　FMC；　the　flight　management　puter。　The　pilots　input　the　flight　plan　and　the　load　sheet　through　the　MCDU　keyboards；　and　all　enroute　flight…plan　changes　are　also　actuated　with　the　McDoos。'
　　'So　Santorelli　es　back　from　the　john　and　sees　that　Blane　has　made　changes　to　the　flight　plan。　Is　that　unusual？'
　　'Depends　on　weather；　turbulence；　unexpected　traffic；　holding　patterns　because　of　airport　problems　at　the　destination。。。
　　'But　at　this　point　in　a　coast…to…coast　flight…little　past　the　midpoint…in　pretty　good　weather；　with　everything　apparently　ticking　along　routinely？'
　　Barbara　nodded。　'Yeah；　Santorelli　would　wonder　why　they　were　making　flight…plan　changes　under　the　circumstances。　But　I　think　the　concern　in　his　voice　results　more　from　Blane's　unresponsiveness　and　from　something　unusual　he　saw　on　the　McDoo；　some　plan　change　that　didn't　make　sense。'
　　'Which　would　be？'
　　As　I　said　earlier；　they　were　seven　degrees　off　course。'
　　'Santorelli　wouldn't　have　felt　that　happening　when　he　was　in　the　lavatory？'
　　'It　started　soon　after　he　was　off　the　flight　deck；　and　it　was　a　gradual；　really　gentle　bank。　He　might　have　sensed　something；　but　there's　no　reason　he　would　have　realized　the　change　was　so　big。'
　　'Who　are　these　doctors…Blom　and　Ramlock？'
　　'I　don't　have　a　clue。　But　read　on。　It　gets　weirder。'
　　BLANE： They're　doing　bad　things　to　me。
　　SANTORELLI： Captain；　what's　wrong　here？