'Oh my God,' he said softly.
'Michael?'
But he never heard her. He was staring at the dying sun on the horizon, wondering whether to feel stupid, mad, or both. And who to take it out on first.
CHAPTER 14
Argument
'I can't believe these things didn't get run through S&T,' Helen Wagner said, surprised by the sudden, unnatural venom inside her voice.
They were in Levine's office. It was approaching midday. Outside the day seemed gripped by a piercing white brilliance. Her head hurt. The air-conditioning sang a high-pitched whine but did nothing to keep out the enervating heat.
Levine and Barnside were staring at her from the opposite side of the table, clearly wishing she were someplace else. There should have been more people in the room for a meeting of this nature, she thought. It was too soon to say that the papers in front of her gave any clue as to the fate of Air Force One, but the possibility had to be there. And Levine was sitting on this. It was all so obvious. He was biding his time, hoping the game would move on before the full story worked its way out.
'First things first,' she said. 'Why the hell is Operations funding part of a scientific project? Without the knowledge of S&T? Or input?'
Barnside shrugged. He had his jacket over the back of his chair and sat in a white, neatly ironed shirt with a button-down collar and plain blue tie. Sweat stains ran down from beneath his arms halfway to his waist. His hair looked matted with sweat, and a single prominent vein on his forehead seemed more visible than usual, seemed to move physically as he spoke.
'Look, Helen,' he said, a note of reasonableness in his voice. "There are territories here. Just because Sundog's involved with scientific data doesn't put it in S&T's court automatically.'
'Bullshit,' she yelled, and knew her voice was too loud, her tone all wrong. She closed her eyes. The room was stifling. Her headache was getting worse. She looked at Barnside. There was a mocking smile on his face; he won a point there. She was the one who lost her grip.
'We're colleagues, Helen. We need to be able to work with each other on this one.'
'Sure, Dave. So turn over the files to me and let me judge for myself.'
'Jesus…' The vein was throbbing, bright and sweaty on his tanned forehead. 'You know I can't do that. At least I hope you know. Do you read the Ops manuals here or what? Work your way into this job, please.'
Barnside's face was flushed. He seemed on the edge — they all did, probably, which was understandable in the circumstances.
'I am asking a very reasonable question,' she continued. 'Why did Operations fund part of Sundog without the knowledge of S&T? Even if there was an operational reason — and I don't accept that for one moment — we should have been informed.'
'Like I said. Read the manual,' Barnside grunted. 'It's under "need to know". And "cell structure". If we wanted your input, we would have asked for it. But we didn't. If you want corporate niceties, go get yourself a job in the charitable sector.'
She glared at Levine, who just shrugged. 'Hey, he's right. It wasn't me that rubber-stamped the decision to go into Sundog. Our involvement was low-key and pretty basic. Understand this, people weren't asking us for scientific advice. They were asking us for management and security, some comfort factor.'
'And a damn good service they got…'
'Christ,' Barnside groaned. 'We don't have room for this, Helen. Are you here to help or what?'
Levine wagged a finger. 'Enough. Keep a handle on those tempers, both of you. Jesus, it's hot in here. Something go wrong with the goddamn air system?'
Helen couldn't believe how bad she felt. She prayed she wouldn't faint.
'So what happened with security, then, Dave?' she asked.
'Sundog was a low-priority project for us, the entire thing was virtually on ice,' Barnside replied. 'We're not sitting on it every damn day.'
'Great. And now it's out of control.'
'No one's saying that,' Levine objected. 'All they're saying to us is that the space side of things has gone off-line.'
She couldn't believe her ears. 'Let's put it another way. We no longer have control of the major part of the system.'
'Or direct proof that anyone else has either,' Barnside said grimly. His eyelids were half-closed.
They all felt terrible in this overheated, airless room — and she sensed it was more than just the heat.
'On the basis of the information you've given me,' she continued, 'it is my opinion that Sundog, if it were in the hands of a hostile party, could have been responsible for downing Air Force One. It has the military capability. With the solar configuration we have right now, the increase in radiation and general activity, the amount of pure radiation it could generate, God knows…'
'That's conjecture,' Barnside muttered. 'Pure conjecture.'
'And in any case,' Levine added, 'who the hell knows how to use it? Not the Libyans. Not the Iraqis. This just isn't their bag. We'd know if they had that kind of capability. Like I said, Sundog was basically on ice, one experimental satellite in place, three ground stations. The damn thing didn't work reliably when we tried messing with it. How the hell could anyone else take control?'
'I don't know,' she replied, and her headache moved up several notches. 'But the answer's there somewhere. So what about these Gaia people?'
'Cranks,' Barnside grumbled. 'Are we going through all that again?'
Levine lit a cigarette. She watched the foul-smelling smoke curl into the air, steal what little oxygen there was from it, and wondered whether she might throw up. 'We do routine monitoring of a few cults these days, Wagner,' he said, the grey fumes seeping out of his mouth. 'Makes sense. Some of them are serious bad news. But get this in perspective. There's a big difference between hacking a government Web site and stealing control of a billion-dollar space project. It just isn't a viable notion.'
'Depends how smart they are.'
'No,' Barnside yelled. 'It depends on a lot more than that. Equipment. Knowledge. Timing.'
'That's your judgement, Barnside. But you're not a scientist, and I am. You should leave that to me. You should have left it to S&T all along.'
Barnside glowered at Levine, closed his eyes, felt his forehead, and said, 'Will you tell her how things work around here, Ben? Or do I have to do that as well? I really don't have time for this.'
Ben Levine stared back at him. The director's bald head was covered in sweat. His eyes looked glazed.
Helen jumped. Somewhere down the corridor a fire alarm was ringing. She could hear people on the move.
'Keep quiet, Dave,' Levine said calmly. 'Don't make a fool of yourself.'
Helen pushed the papers from her lap back onto the table. 'We're wasting time here, gentlemen. I've been through the papers you've supplied to me about Sundog. Even a child could see they're incomplete. I don't have details of the security clearances in Spain, the personnel histories of the key players who've worked on the project in the past, managerial reports — '
'Hey, hey.' Barnside was waving her down and the sight of his big hand bobbing up and down in the airless space in front of her seemed so infuriating. 'One thing at a time, Helen. This is your first day. You're not even equipped with full security clearance yet. We're adapting to Belinda's loss as much as you. Can't you get that?'
She glowered at Levine. 'Sir?'
'Say it.'
'Did you give me this job precisely because you thought I wouldn't pick these things up? Is that what this is about? Keeping S&T nice and quiet while you try to sweep whatever is out there under the carpet?'
She could have sworn Barnside was starting to laugh.