Collision (23 page)

“Talk on, Ken. I'm with you so far,” Anderson said.

“I already have a public hearing scheduled for next week on NASA trying to get back into the game of setting up a moon colony,” Collinsworth continued. “They're afraid the Chinese are going to build some of their megacities up there. What say we make it a joint committee hearing so we can round up some votes? I've got some folks on my committee who are pretty wobbly when it comes to taking on NASA and President Oxley. Their states used to get quite a bit of business out of NASA before we cut NASA's budget, and their governors are putting pressure on them to start the printing presses rolling again.”

“Absolutely! I'm with you, Ken,” Anderson replied. “We got a goddamn nineteen-trillion-dollar train wreck coming at us and we've got to hold Oxley's feet to the fire on our national debt or he's going to take us all the way to Greece and back before he leaves office. I'll get my press guy to work with your man on a release. How about something like, Senators Kenneth Collinsworth and Frank Anderson announce a joint hearing to examine ‘Federal Waste in Space'? We can fold the issue of asteroid mining in, along with hammering Taylor for scaring the hell out of the American people so he can get the so-called international community into Uncle Sam's knickers.”

“Spoken like a true patriot, Frank,” Collinsworth said, a half smile racing across his lips. “You have a way with words, my friend. Let's move on it.”

*   *   *

When Senator Sarah Lawrence,
the senior senator from Maine and chairwoman of the Armed Services Committee, learned of the joint hearing, she cornered Collinsworth on the Senate floor following a recorded vote.

“Frank, I saw the notice of your hearing next week,” she said, placing herself directly in front of Collinsworth, stopping him in midstride. She was a foot shorter than Collinsworth, but long ago she had learned if she stood back far enough, she did not have to look up at a man's face. She was in her early fifties, with a figure little changed since her cheerleader days at the University of Maine. She wore a black skirt and a white blouse under a dark blue jacket. Her black pumps had sensible one-inch heels.

Although a space treaty sounded like a subject beyond the jurisdiction of the Armed Services Committee, she was powerful enough to have her way. Collinsworth knew that she also was popular enough with the media to grab some attention. But, with a broad smile and nod, he asked what he could do for her.

“I'd like to sit in on your hearing with your permission,” she went on. “It'll give me an opportunity to see where all of this asteroid talk is heading.”

Collinsworth held Lawrence with barely concealed contempt. She was just too damn liberal to suit him. To him, she represented a bunch of liberal bastards trying to pass themselves off as “responsible” conservatives who believed the art of compromise.
Horseshit,
he thought. He was not one to follow Senate protocol or courtesy, but he decided that someday she might become an ally, as unlikely as that might seem at the moment.

“Well, it's going to be a little crowded up on the dais, but sure, Sarah, I'll see that you get a seat.”
Jesus,
he thought to himself,
and I'll have to listen to her pontificating
.

A “little crowded” was an understatement. Originally, the hearing had been scheduled to be held in the Dirksen Senate Office Building. But so many senators planned to attend the hearing that a larger room was required. Collinsworth called Charlie Napolitano, the architect of the Capitol, and tasked him to come up with the best way to accommodate as many as twenty-five or more members.

Napolitano, a short, wiry man who wore large horn-rimmed glasses and a poor comb-over, said, “Not a problem, Mr. Chairman. We'll set everything up in the Caucus Room of the Russell Senate Office Building. Just a matter of marshaling lumber, carpenters, and a small amount of money which I can take from the contingency fund.”

“Excellent, Charlie. I'll need to have it ready by next Wednesday.”

“Done.”

And it was. The construction crew carried out the project quickly and without a hitch. The workmanship was excellent. The dais had the appearance of a permanent structure with all senators having an assigned seat where they could see—and be seen.

A lot of history had been made in the Caucus Room. It had been the site of the hearings held on the sinking of the
Titanic
, the Teapot Dome scandal, and the Army-McCarthy, Watergate, and Iran-Contra hearings. It was in that very room that Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas accused tormenting senators of conducting an “electronic lynching” during his confirmation hearing.

There were likely to be a lot of histrionics displayed on Wednesday, and just maybe a little history made as well.

 

42

When Falcone, a veteran
of countless congressional hearings as both inquirer and responder, heard about the announcement, he knew what to expect, especially from Collinsworth. He knew Collinsworth and his reputation. He would produce his own little play, with himself as hero and Taylor as villain. Falcone quickly called Collinsworth's office to say that Taylor would appear voluntarily. But a subpoena was already on its way to Taylor, creating the false appearance of his being a reluctant witness being dragged to the hearing. Falcone tried in vain to meet with Collinsworth or his chief of staff to lay out ground rules. That made it inevitable that the hearing would be a kangaroo court.

Assuming that Ben Taylor would be sandbagged by aggressive questioning, Falcone called for a prehearing strategy session. A few minutes after he, Ben, and Darlene gathered around the table in the Taylor kitchen, Sam Bancroft appeared. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a blue polo shirt bearing the image of USAF wings instead of a polo player. He carried a briefcase.

“First order of business is our pizza order,” Falcone said. “You can't make strategy without pizza.” He and Sam quickly agreed on a chorizo and pepperoni pizza. Darlene chose broccoli and mushrooms. Ben Taylor did not make an additional choice, accepting whatever had been chosen.

Bancroft took a thick loose-leaf binder out of his briefcase and placed it on the kitchen table. “I've been thinking about your opening statement, Ben,” Bancroft said. “I figured that Collinsworth and Anderson's strategy will be to belittle you, build up Hamilton and SpaceMine, and stop you from saying anything about the dangers of mining satellites. So I thought we should have a counterstrategy.”

“Looks like you have a secret weapon,” Falcone said, pointing to the binder.

Bancroft nodded, opened the binder, and began talking. His voice had the soft accent of South Carolina mountain country.

“Ben, I guess you know that the Pentagon, with much cooperation from NASA, runs a quiet little outfit called the Operationally Responsive Space Office,” Bancroft said.

“Sure, I remember it, the place was always spoken about in initials,” Taylor said. “The ultimate idea of the ORS, as I got it, was to develop a way to have standby space vehicles that could react to some vague, unstated need. Most people in NASA shied away from it. Sounded like space warfare.”

“Well, yes. Some classified stuff. I've been working for the office for about a year, but spending most of my time at the Pentagon instead of NASA headquarters. Mostly, I've been churning out unclassified reports full of empty phrases,” he said, pointing to the binder and flipping through pages. “You know, ‘the military's need for responsive, flexible, and affordable systems operating in space' or there is ‘a critical need for improved space situational awareness.'”

He flipped to a page and looked up to say, “But I've also seen some solid stuff about how an asteroid could kill millions and maybe wipe out civilization. It made me wonder why we aren't spending more time and money setting up a warning system. We have systems like that for floods and tornadoes and hurricanes—maybe not perfect systems. But they exist and they improve. A warning system for asteroids seems like a no-brainer.”

He read from the page: “‘The impact of a relatively small asteroid would, in all likelihood, cause catastrophic damage and loss of life—even the possible extinction of the human race!' That sentence, by the way, ends in the only exclamation point I have ever seen in a Pentagon document.”

“Pentagon?” Falcone said. “You mean that you're reading from an official DOD document?”

“Yes. Don't worry. It's unclassified.” Bancroft said. “It's a report issued by an Air Force study group a long time ago.”

“The title, believe it or not, is
Planetary Defense: Catastrophic Health Insurance for Planet Earth
. And, get this: It was written in 1996. It was produced by a group of brilliant, forward-looking military officers who were concerned about an overlooked threat, not just to the United States but to the whole world. They imagined a planet defense system that would be operated by spacefaring nations and—get this—controlled by the UN.”

He opened to another page and read: “‘Concern exists among an increasing number of scientists throughout the world regarding the possibility of a catastrophic event caused by an impact of a large earth-crossing object (ECO) on the Earth-Moon System (EMS), be it an asteroid or comet.'

“And listen to this: ‘Due to a lack of awareness and emphasis, the world is not socially, economically, or politically prepared to deal with' the asteroid threat. And this: ‘Collectively as a global community, no current viable capability exists to defend the EMS' against a good-sized asteroid. The report goes on to say that a good-sized asteroid could wipe out the human race. What the endangered world needs, these officers wrote, is a planetary defense system. Then they tell how to develop the system and deploy it.”

“How long is this document?” Falcone asked.

Bancroft turned a tagged page and said, “Sixty-seven pages.”

“Ben, this is terrific,” Falcone said. “I suggest you read through Sam's document and, if you think it's as good as it sounds, take pertinent statements from it for your opening statement and then make the whole thing an appendix to the statement.”

Taylor agreed, and talk about his statement went on until the pizzas arrived and they moved to the dining room. As the pizza interlude ended, Taylor and Falcone began rehearsing possible questions and lining up possible answers.

Falcone didn't have to tell Taylor to be polite; he was naturally genial. But Falcone did warn him about Hamilton's connection to Collinsworth and predicted that he would try to rattle Taylor or goad him into losing his temper.

“It'll be an uneven match, Ben,” Falcone said. “Anderson and Collinsworth will be giving Hamilton a televised platform to tell the world what he—not you—has to say about asteroids. They have home-field advantage. Much as you might want to, don't try to fight back. Collinsworth and Anderson will not be friendly. They both get bagfuls of Hamilton's campaign contributions. Just be humble. Be responsive. For God's sake, don't say ‘No comment.' And don't forget that I'll be sitting next to you.”

Taylor spent the next day writing his opening statement, using some material from the asteroid-show preview and some from the report that Bancroft found.

“In 2001, I was one of seventy scientists and engineers from around the world who attended a workshop on Hazardous Comets and Asteroids,” the statement began. “It was clear then and is clear today that we are not doing enough research on this potential hazard to Earth and that the prime impediment to that research is the lack of any international or national governmental organization dedicated to the defense of Earth.”

Taylor e-mailed copies to Falcone, Sam, and Darlene for comment, adding the U.S. Air Force Defense of Earth document as an appendix. After accepting and rejecting their comments, he polished it and sent it to Falcone.

Two days before the scheduled hearing, Falcone sent copies of the statement to Anderson and Collinsworth for them and members of their staff to read. This was a routine practice for congressional witnesses. Although Falcone expected aggressive questions from Collinsworth and Anderson, he did not expect what they would manage to do with Ben's opening statement.

 

43

At precisely 9:00 a.m.,
with a friendly nod to his “esteemed colleague and cochairman of this hearing, Senator Frank Anderson,” Collinsworth banged his gavel and announced that the hearing had begun. In fact, it had begun when he realized what a chance it would be to please Hamilton and at the same time to ride the publicity that had made asteroids a major media subject ever since Hamilton announced the existence of Asteroid USA and his promise of its Morse code signal—
U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A. “
Diggin' Our USA” made the Top 10 Songs. Ex-astronauts and their past flashes of fame appeared on talk shows. NASA-produced images of asteroids, looking like tumbling gray potatoes, zoomed across YouTube videos.

But Collinsworth had to balance his constituency against his largest donor. Back home, his voters wanted a return to the moon more than they wanted to help a billionaire to make more billions. He had been told at town meetings that the United States needed to go back to the moon and claim it for the United States. But, as he proudly told his constituents, he had suggested to Hamilton the name Asteroid USA rather than SpaceMine I. And, from what he was now hearing, his connection with Asteroid USA greatly helped to placate voters and donors who were yearning for the moon.

Ten minutes before the hearing was to begin, Falcone and Ben Taylor were standing at the door to the Caucus Room that had become Collinsworth's theater.

Down the marble hall, Falcone saw Sprague leading three other Sullivan & Ford lawyers. Walking alongside Sprague was the lawyer entourage's client, Robert Wentworth Hamilton. Although Hamilton was not scheduled to testify until the following day, his principal lobbyist had convinced him to appear at the opening day of the hearing. From a publicity point of view, it was a sensible move. And Hamilton, tipped off to the script for the hearing, wanted to be there when Collinsworth and Anderson flayed Taylor.