“Confiscated?” Mac sighed. “I’m not a lawyer, but that worries me. I’m not sure we have the legal right to snatch a civilian tape. Do we know what it showed?”
“An oblique view of the wreckage, showing the right engine hanging off its mounts and a badly damaged wing where the right prop tore into it.”
Mac was nodding. “So, Ms. Rosen knows for certain that something happened in the air that probably caused the crash. If I recall correctly, you told me before that she was trying to prove the propeller threw a blade. Was there evidence on that tape of a thrown blade?”
Jon shook his head. “On the tape she got it’s inconclusive, but the Navy’s pictures tell the tale clearly, and there’s no doubt. It threw a blade in flight.”
He punched the keyboard and the image of the Albatross’s right engine filled the screen, one prop blade clearly missing, the other two severely deformed from slicing repeatedly into the right wing.
“So, Ms. Rosen was right.”
“This is the broader view taken by the submersible sitting right in front of the nose,” Anderson said.
“Good lord, look at that wing!” Mac’s eyes traced the damage in the clarity of the picture as he drummed his fingers on the airborne table. “All right. Jon, remember I didn’t want Ms. Rosen or her father pushing for exonerating evidence and accidentally uncovering our project in the process? Well, now that she’s found the wreckage and photographed it, she knows he had a real airborne emergency. But we’ve just snatched that proof away.”
“Yes, sir. Apparently. And it’s far more critical now for them because, based on that FAA inspector’s recommendations, FAA headquarters revoked the father’s pilot license, and the man’s an active airline captain.”
“On what grounds?”
“Reckless operation of an aircraft and violation of visual flight rules, and I understand there’s a charge of flying while intoxicated.”
“Intoxicated? Really? That’s disturbing. Of course, what the wreckage shows is that the reckless operation charge is wrong. What is his name?”
“Captain Arlie Rosen. A senior 747 captain for United.”
“Captain Rosen has to be able to prove that reckless charge false, and without the physical evidence or video evidence, it’s going to be difficult. So what do you think a determined young woman like Ms. Rosen is going to do, Jon?”
“I think she’ll keep on trying.”
“You can bank on it. But how? What can we expect her to do next?”
“Agitate to get her tape back?”
“Correct. From your briefing we know she’s smart. She’s worldly. She knows the Coast Guard has snatched her tape and that there has to be more to it than just flying into the wrong place. She’s probably thinking anything from government cover-ups to conspiracy thoughts right now, and I’ll bet you she has enough experience with the government to know that getting that tape back may take a lot of time. All of which means what?”
“General, you’re sounding more like a professor every day. I don’t know where you’re going with these questions.”
“Well, what I’m getting at, Jon, is that she’s sure to find a way to go out there again, Coast Guard — restricted areas or not. She’ll try to get the same video shots or better. And for us the question then becomes, is there any reason we should stop her?”
“Yes, sir, I’d say there is, if there’s anything on that wreckage that might suggest our Gulfstream and their Albatross traded paint.”
“But, Jon, we looked the Gulfstream over in the hangar, and we couldn’t find any evidence of an impact. Right?”
“Yes, sir, but… I just get the creepy feeling we’re missing something that could badly hurt us.”
Mac sighed and sat forward, his hand out, palm up. “What would it take to raise that plane ourselves?”
“The Navy’s ready to go for it, sir. Wouldn’t take much. They could put it on a small barge and cover it until we get the chance to inspect it.”
Mac sat in thought for a few minutes. “Well, instead, suppose I just pull enough horsepower together to get to the FAA administrator and have her reinstate Captain Rosen’s pilot’s license?”
Jon Anderson winced. “Sir, with all due respect to your ability to make that happen, it would open a lot of doors to a lot of questions and explanations, including the basic one of who you are and why you’re involved and interested. Even pleading national security doesn’t stop the widening of the circle.”
“Well, hell,” Mac said with a snort, “maybe the Navy just happened by with a camera, and here’s the photo. Doesn’t have to involve us.”
“It would take more than that photo, General. I know the FAA very well. To counter an angry FAA inspector who’s managed to convince headquarters to take away an airline captain’s ticket on three different charges, you’d have to give the FAA administrator a very forceful, very direct explanation, and that means pretty much blowing our cover. We’re keeping the majority of the Pentagon in the dark on this project anyway, and we’ve spent a heck of a lot to make sure it doesn’t leak, so… do you really want to involve the FAA’s key people?”
“In other words, you don’t think we can help the Rosens without a potential security breach, even though solving their problem would keep them off our trail?”
Jon nodded. “Yes, sir. In a nutshell.”
Mac sighed and turned away in thought. He turned back suddenly, swiveling the chair around to face Anderson. “Dammit, I know you’re right, Jon. This is just so frustrating. I’m a pilot, and here’s a fellow pilot getting screwed, we’re holding his get-out-of-jail ticket, and we can’t give it to him without revealing we’re here.”
“General, one of the best memos you’ve written in this whole project was the one that asked us to place security considerations above all others. It was eloquent and convincing.”
Mac shook his head, smiling ruefully. “What? You framed it?”
“Well, it wasn’t that timeless, but it was right on point.”
“That leaves poor Captain Rosen and his daughter as unwitting victims.”
“Sir, don’t forget there are two other serious charges against Captain Rosen, and we don’t have a clue whether they’re valid or not.”
Mac sighed. “That point is valid, though it may not be enough to use in good conscience as justification.” He looked at his watch. “Okay. Another two hours and we’ll be there. Everything on time for tonight’s test flight?”
Jon Anderson nodded. “The AWACS is set to launch at six-thirty local with us aboard, and the Gulfstream should be airborne about ten minutes later.”
“This better work,” Mac said, getting to his feet.
High clouds were moving over Prince William Sound to the west as April left the warmth of Jim Dobler’s office for a few minutes to peer over the edge of the dock, feeling the bracing cold of the zephyrs whipping down the channel and churning the waters in the protected breakwater below. There was a distant noise behind her, and she glanced around at the office window to watch Jim still on the phone, trying hard to clear the way to salvage the wreckage of the Albatross without running afoul of the law or the Coast Guard.
She sighed and shook her head as the image of Scott McDermott floated across her mind again, wondering what had happened in his background to make him back away so quickly from a challenge.
He’s probably back in Anchorage by now, she thought. He’d left hours ago, after Jim had intervened in the heated early morning exchange. She’d pressed a check in his hand, but he refused it at first, accepting it only after she insisted that it was only for the originally contracted charter fee and not his additional efforts on her behalf. For some reason, the distinction had become terribly important to him.