“But that’s from the NSA’s closed-circuit security system? How on earth did you get hold of it?”
Sven gave a non-committal shrug.
James ended his video call with LaForgue. As usual, she had nothing useful to say, but took him to task for not letting her know that the document had been decoded. James explained that they had yet to authenticate it. She apparently knew that already, but said nothing. James reminded her that it was she who instructed them to give her all the facts when they had them, and not to provide information in drips and drabs. That seemed to irritate her even further. James figured that Uri had already been in touch and said much the same.
LaForgue told him that she’d be flying out to Groom Lake shortly to see what was really going on there. She made it clear that Uri was obviously withholding something from her.
It was time LaForgue started getting a little of her own medicine, James thought. He was starting to enjoy playing this little ‘need to know’ game with her. He also realised that he really was being childish.
Breakfast at Groom Lake was a little earlier than usual. The twins had already eaten and were on their way to McCarran International accompanied by two female military escorts. With eyes on the overhead TV in the cafeteria, Emily, Obadiah and Nathan were watching a ghastly breaking story unfold.
“I hope that doesn’t delay their flight,” Emily said.
“Let’s listen,” Nathan replied.
“Runway 25-Right will remain closed for the next forty-eight hours as the investigation continues,” the news anchor announced, flashing her brilliant white teeth. “All traffic has been temporarily rerouted to runway 25-Left.”
“Why do news anchors always find it necessary to smile?” Emily said, with annoyance. “Just look at that horrific scene behind her. That’s hardly something to laugh about.” She stared with shock at the burned-out shell of a regular passenger plane.
“You think anchor’s care about what they’re reporting,” Nathan said. “It’s all about how good they look on TV.”
“We would like to remind you that our exclusive coverage of yesterday’s disaster may be extremely disturbing for sensitive viewers,” the anchor cautioned.
Those warnings were nothing more than teasers and guaranteed that nobody switched channels. They also guaranteed that advertisers would want their messages moved from a later schedule into the current time slot. They also paid premium prices, and those prices doubled if their commercial was shown immediately after the ‘sensitivity’ warning.
CNN, like most news channels, were in the entertainment and sales business; true journalism having lost its impetus years ago. Within minutes, the live coverage was sold to other news networks around the globe. Using blue-screen technology, their own journalists, claiming to be live on the scene, were superimposed in the foreground of the drama provided by CNN.
The networks had specialised recording studios fitted with rain and wind machines along with false sunshine or cloud cover depending on the conditions of the actual footage. The camera would pan to one side or zoom onto the face of the reporter if clock towers were visible in the background of the original news feed. Clocks were always a perfect give-away that the coverage was anything but live. To the viewer, it really did appear as if the reporter was on location.
“We will be right back after this short break,” the anchor said, with her most dazzling smile.
“I can’t stand it that commercials always have to be twice the volume of regular shows,” Nathan remarked, with disgust.
“One of the reasons I stopped watching TV,” Obadiah said.
“There ought to be a law against that,” Nathan said.
“There is,” Emily said. “Commercials are actually at normal volume.”
“Yeah, right,” Nathan said, cynically.
“No, really,” she said. “They drop the volume of the show you’re watching. You turn it up so that you can hear, and wham, commercials blare out at you. The TV stations haven’t broken any laws.”
“We would like to remind you again that this may be disturbing for sensitive viewers,” the anchor repeated. “This tragic event happened yesterday afternoon when the Boeing 737 allegedly lost one of its engines during approach to McCarran International, here in Las Vegas.”
Over the voice of the announcer, the recording zoomed in to the Boeing completely engulfed in flames. Fire fighters alongside their engines were doing their best to extinguish the inferno with water and high-pressure foam.
“We are unable to show you the aircraft’s attempted landing at this time as the investigation into the tragedy is still ongoing.”
“In other words, they don’t have that footage,” Nathan said. “But making it sound like they do.”
“Shush,” Emily said. “Let’s listen.”
“The left engine allegedly exploded in mid-air, creating a huge hole in the side of the aircraft. Unconfirmed reports say that three passengers and a flight attendant were sucked out. We will bring you more detail as soon as their next of kin have been notified.”
The camera panned to the right and zoomed in to the far end of the runway.
“As you can see, the 737 skidded for an unbelievably long distance between where it struck the grassy verge and coming to rest here, behind me. The pilots are being hailed as heroes for bringing the plane down in one piece.”
The camera panned back to the Boeing.
“We will return after this short break for an earlier recording of our exclusive interview with Angela Rothman, captain of Trans-Commercial’s flight 761.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
As with all sensational news, commercial breaks occupied more air time than the story being covered.
“They’re back on,” Emily said, watching the anchor hurriedly approach a uniformed woman who she assumed was the airline captain.
“The captain looks pissed,” Nathan said.
“You would too,” Emily said. “Going through such a terrifying ordeal and having a microphone thrust into your face by someone who looks like she should be in toothpaste commercials.”
They listened as Captain Rothman recounted the events. Rothman didn’t suspect equipment malfunction, emphasising that the Boeing 737 was an extremely safe aircraft.
Statistics scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
“737s have been around since 1967,” Obadiah observed. “I didn’t realise that there were almost five thousand in active service.”
“Look at the accident stats,” Nathan said. “Rothman is right. Considering the number of fatalities, that is a safe aircraft. Most of the mechanical failures are because carriers are skimping on Boeing’s specified service and inspection schedules.”
“Why on earth would the carriers do that?” Emily asked.
“Aircraft don’t make any money sitting in maintenance hangars for two days,” Nathan explained. “Besides loss of revenue, maintenance costs are high, as are the mandatory replacement parts. During the life of an aircraft, it works out cheaper on mass law-suits if one happens to fall out of the sky.”
“That’s disgusting,” Emily said.
“That’s how it is with everything, these days,” Obadiah said, facing her. “Profit above all else.”
“No shit,” Emily said. “These days, you have to pay for your luggage; there’s no such thing as an in-flight meal any more, unless you’re prepared to pay twenty dollars for a crappy sandwich; and if the two of you want to sit next to each other, well, that’s another charge.”