Sachs didn’t acknowledge the apology. “What was your other reason for calling?”
“The press conference today,” Pace said. “Vernon said there still isn’t an explanation of why debris got sucked into the engine instead—”
“I know,” Sachs interrupted impatiently. “I saw the press conference on television, and I was fully briefed beforehand.”
“Fine,” Pace said. “Then you heard me ask if it would be a good idea to recommend grounding the 811s as a precaution?”
“Yes.”
“And you heard Vernon take my head off. He said the paper was trying to make a sinister mystery of the accident. We never said anything like that, Ken. What gives?”
“I think your recent stories are saying something close… if not explicit.”
“A sinister mystery? Isn’t that a little strong? I wrote about a tragic coincidence.”
“If you say so.”
“Then what was Vernon talking about?”
Sachs paused for a few seconds. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “He knows about the little problem we had the other night, and maybe he jumped on you out of loyalty to me.”
“I guess that’s understandable. Let me ask you the same question I asked him. If there’s a mysterious—no, check that. If there’s no explanation for why the engine didn’t act as it was supposed to, as it was designed to, isn’t there cause to recommend that the FAA ground the Sextons until the questions are answered?”
“Vernon seems to think not.”
“You’re the chairman. What do you think?”
“He’s the supervising member of the board. It’s his call at this point.”
“Damn it, I don’t get your reasoning.”
“You don’t have to. It’s not for you to understand. It’s our responsibility, and if you media people will leave us alone, we’ll take care of it.”
“Oh, come on, Ken. That bureaucratic bullshit’s beneath you.”
“Let me put it this way, then. We have proof positive of a bird strike. We are calling that the primary cause of the accident. There are still additional matters under investigation. Period.”
“You mean it’s possible the aircraft could have survived the bird strike, but something else went wrong?”
“Pace, I didn’t say that, goddamn it!”
“What are you saying? We were going to work this together, remember?”
“I remember the agreement, but that was before the other night. At this time, I have no outstanding obligation to you. Your action abrogated everything.”
“Even getting at the truth?”
Pace winced as the line went dead.
21
Harold Marshall slept Friday night every bit as well as he expected.
But he woke up Saturday morning with a severe headache, and that would be the best part of his day.
“Everybody’s calling the case closed except the Chronicle, and they keep sniffing around the body like dogs on a bitch in heat.”
Harold Marshall snarled into the telephone and paced behind his desk as an anxious lion might pace the back of its cage at feeding time. That he had to come to work on the weekend only added to his anxiety. He was supposed to be with Evelyn Bracken today, and she was not taking his absence well.
The extra-long cord spiraling from the telephone flipped snakelike on the floor, coiling and uncoiling as the tension changed, extending first to one side and then the other as Marshall walked and talked. He frequently paced during important conversations. He claimed he thought better on his feet. But the pressure on the carpeting was evident in the rut of threadbare nap marking his habitual course. After his last election, Evelyn pestered him to have the carpeting replaced, arguing the nation’s taxpayers could afford to spruce up the office of a three-term United States senator. He brushed her off the way he was now brushing off the calming words from the Converse CEO, George Thomas Greenwood.
Marshall was infuriated and frustrated by Greenwood’s inexplicable lack of concern in the face of his company’s profound predicament. Although Vernon Lund had come through with a resounding defense of the C-Fan, the media persisted in keeping lingering doubts alive. Yesterday Marshall would have bet a month’s salary the issue had been laid to rest. Hadn’t he been the one to reassure Chappy Davis? And now he was the one being reassured, and he didn’t believe it from Greenwood today any more than Davis had believed it from him yesterday.
Damn the Chronicle, anyway. Why did it even have to bring up unanswered questions? The basic question, the only important question, was answered: No defect in the Converse Fan was responsible for the nation’s worst air disaster.
End of story.
But it wasn’t.
“The public criticizes the media all the time, but they believe what they read, George,” Marshall continued. “This constant pick, pick, pick is going to erode public confidence eventually. Believe me, I know.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Harold, I’m saying don’t overreact,” Greenwood replied. “I caught the NBC and CBS news shows last night. Both of them keyed on the fact that a bird was blamed for the accident. You tell me the Times and the Post did the same thing this morning, so I don’t see it’s any kind of big deal for one newspaper to get cranky.”
“It isn’t that simple, my friend. The Chronicle is more than cranky. Listen to the way the story starts: ‘Acknowledging still-unanswered questions about the performance of the Converse engines on the Sexton 811 that crashed last week at Dulles International Airport, the National Transportation Safety Board nonetheless blames the accident on a bird sucked into the plane’s right engine.’ The reporter—this Pace—gives the official NTSB statement four paragraphs and then goes on for eleven or so about these so-called unanswered questions. And even though the Post and the Times didn’t mention questions in their leads, they dealt with them at length farther down.”
“I know. You told me already.”
“But it’s getting picked up, George! AP is carrying it. CNN showed tape of Lund’s press conference. It’s bad stuff and we don’t need it. Pace doesn’t show any sign of letting up. God knows where he’s going with this double-murder bullshit. He’s got to be stopped.”
“What do you propose we do, shoot him? Then they’d have three murders to write about.” Greenwood’s tone was derisive. “Be reasonable, Harold. If Lund doesn’t waver, and I’m told he won’t, the Chronicle will go away eventually. And the others will follow.”
“What makes you think Lund’s solid?”
“I have my sources. They tell me Lund is personally convinced a bird strike caused the crash, and all other issues are peripheral with him. He also knows which way the wind blows. He’s a Republican. I’m a Republican. You’re a Republican. If we don’t chase Cordell Hollander out of the White House next election, we’ll get it back four years later, and Lund will be starting with two powerful allies in his bid for the top spot at the FAA.”
“Wait. Hold on a second. I haven’t committed for Lund.”
“But you will.”
Greenwood’s tone was so matter-of-fact that Marshall was momentarily nonplussed. Had he become such a pawn of Converse that Greenwood could be that certain of his vote on everything? Possibly so, he had to admit, especially in light of the chances he’d taken and the deeds he’d done for the company over the years, and particularly in the past week. Nevertheless, the thought chilled him.