'There.' He pointed at a speck of light the size of a pinhead, then zoomed in, took up the resolution, and drilled down through the layers until the picture was clear. Yasgur's Farm, from above, looked like a sizeable modern ranch house, probably extended over the years from a single rectangular shack.
Now it was large, four distinct sections tacked onto each other, probably giving a good three thousand square feet of space if the place was single-storey, more if they had any first-floor extensions.
'It's big enough,' Helen said.
'But where's the dome?' Fogerty asked.
'Property records,' she demanded, and watched as Larry Wolfit pulled up the database.
'According to the state file, this property's real name is Buena Vista Farm,' he said. 'Dates back to the fifties. Property changed hands in March. New owner a corporation registered in Switzerland. No more details.'
'Yeah. Great,' Barnside said. 'But like the man said, where the hell is the dome?'
Wolfit zoomed out again, hit the degradation button on the filter, and saw a single bright circle appear a quarter of a mile away from the house, along what looked like a ridge.
'Water tower,' said the man in the next seat. 'It's down there on the map. Mentioned in the state filing too, planning permission back in 1989.'
'Sure,' Helen said, and watched as Wolfit zoomed in on the thing. 'But if you wanted to really hide something, what would you do? You'd find some pre-existing feature and replace it. Remember what Lieberman said? These people are clever. We've been looking for something new. Maybe that's what they wanted us to look for.'
'Good.' Fogerty nodded, watching the image come up in size on the monitor. Wolfit ran it up all the way. No one was impressed. The image was so indistinct, it could have been anything. The dome. A rodeo ring. Even a water tower.
'We've got Nighthawks in that area,' the Air Force man said. 'I can get one there in five minutes.'
'Will the folks in the farm know?' Fogerty asked. 'We need some element of surprise.'
'Not a chance. These are helicopters with silent flight capability. We can be over there at six hundred feet and they won't hear a thing. And you could put the movie they get on HBO if you want.'
'Do it,' Fogerty said. 'And while we're waiting, get the HRT people in the briefing centre, work on the assumption we have a hit here.'
The room suddenly became less crowded.
'I have to go with them,' Helen said. Fogerty stared at her, eyes wide behind the big owl glasses, and then at Barnside, who had moved next to her.
'You still feel that way, Miss Wagner?' Fogerty asked. 'You could run it from here if you wanted.'
'No,' she said quickly. 'I have to be there. The whole purpose of this mission is to capture their system intact and working. I need to be there with my team. I need to be on-line to La Finca all the way. And once you've secured the target, I want you people out of my hair.'
Barnside shrugged. Fogerty gazed at her in silence.
'Here she comes,' Larry Wolfit said. 'We've got a live feed from the chopper.'
The monitor was now occupied by a blue-tinged video screen, the image distinct and sharp, but eerie, like the picture from an early moon shot. The desert floor looked like the surface of the moon too. Then a lone coyote wandered across the screen, there was the outline, hard and straight, of the road, and a scattering of scrubby brush.
'Where are they going?' Fogerty asked.
"The house,' the Air Force officer said.
'Kill that,' Fogerty demanded. 'I want to see this dome first. Without that, we've got nothing.'
Someone barked orders at the back of the control room. They could see the direction of the chopper change on screen. Some low scree came into view, more scrub, and then a shape, circular but indistinct.
'Go in closer,' Fogerty said.
'It's at max resolution already.'
'Then fly lower.'
The man in uniform hesitated and said, 'But what if they hear-'
'Just do it,' Fogerty said. 'We don't have room for guesswork.'
'Sir.'
It was, Helen thought, just like the film of an Apollo mission, the sort of stuff you watched when you were a child, wondering what all the fuss was about. The grey, bare landscape rose up to greet you, looking airless, inhospitable. Someone gasped. 'Hold it there,' she ordered.
A mosaic of polygons covered the surface of the flashing image, and around the exterior ran what looked like a perfect circle.
'They skinned it,' she said. 'They've put an exterior skin right around the whole damn thing to make it look like a water tower from the ground, and then just left the top open hoping we wouldn't see.'
Fogerty stared at the screen. 'All this gets recorded, is that correct?'
'Yes sir,' Wolfit replied.
'Good. Well, let's get this helicopter back to altitude and over to the house. We have plans to make.'
Helen waited, looked at him.
'Well?' Fogerty asked.
'I'm still awaiting your decision, sir.'
His face gave nothing away. 'This is a Bureau exercise, Miss Wagner.'
'Sir-'
'But I take your point. Be there for the briefing.'
Levine gave out a sardonic smile. 'Sure, that's okay with me too, Dan.'
'Good.'
'You should take Barnside along too,' Levine said. 'He could come in useful.'
Fogerty looked at the big man. 'I guess you people are happier in twos. Sure thing.'
Barnside grinned at her and she didn't know what to make of it. 'Hey, Helen,' he said. 'We'll make a team yet.'
CHAPTER 47
Connect
At this height above the earth the satellite's velocity was 3.86 kilometres per second and the period required to complete a single orbit 723.37 minutes, almost exactly twelve hours. Charley had positioned Sundog to sit squat in the centre of the earth day, wherever it was over the globe. That way she could make the most of the storm that was building in space behind it. She could adjust the speed across the globe at any time by firing up the satellite and adjusting the orbit: higher meant slower. Lieberman had worked out the forecast for the present track. She had it right on course for Western Europe when the zenith rose up to greet them, and well in line for North America over the following twelve hours. Perfect timing, Lieberman guessed, a natural Charley attribute.
He didn't mention any of this as they watched the astronauts on the big screen at La Finca. He'd done his best to show them how to shut his part of Sundog down. Now it was just a question of letting the crew get on with its job.
Bill Ruffin and Mary Gallagher sweated inside their suits, watching the four wings of the giant oversized shade hang over Sundog, casting a vast, deep shadow over the solar panels, and beyond to the satellite itself. The two astronauts felt at home in space, knew how to handle zero gravity, how carefully and slowly they had to manoeuvre, to feel the objects they were trying to work with. It was a mistake to rush a single thing. If one vital part went missing, received an accidental knock, the impetus would send it flying, with a balletic slowness, out of their reach forever. Ruffin and Gallagher would have no second chances, and that thought stayed with them during this interminable period of waiting.
The LED on the base plate seemed to have been stuck on orange for years. Then Ruffin slowly closed his eyes, dreamed of home, a warm Florida beach, cold beer, a nice quiet raw bar with country music floating out of the speakers.
Lieberman's voice broke through the silence of their helmets. 'We saw the light change. My part's over. You're in Irwin's capable hands now.'