Skyhook (39 page)

The download complete, Ben broke the connection, collapsing the communications program and changing his computer’s individual ID

code back to normal. He called up the radar information for

Monday night then and worked to convert the format to something he could display, finally succeeding. A few more keystrokes and the picture enlarged to full size before him, each recorded sweep of the radar beam bringing a vastly clearer picture than what he’d seen from Herndon.

This was, after all, the raw data. He worked to refine it before identifying the Gulfstream, a task that proved simple once he’d located the AWACS on the screen.

Ben worked through the data, isolating the various blips as they appeared and disappeared, creating projections of their positions and moving them back and forth until the conclusion became obvious.

My God, if that’s the amphibian coming from the southeast to the northwest, we crossed right over or under him at fifty feet! And immediately after that encounter with us, he disappeared for good.

The newspaper article he’d cut out earlier about the crash was sitting next to the keyboard. He reread it now, memorizing the name of the grounded pilot and querying an on-line phone book for his phone number.

Rosen, Arlie. Sequim, Washington. The phone number followed.

Ben copied down the number and punched it into the desk phone before thinking about the possibility that Uniwave—or someone else—might be bugging it. He hung up quickly. The cell phone would be safer, though even digital phones could be monitored by sophisticated agencies. Ben dialed the number and heard the line ring through to a voice mail message. “Ah, Captain Rosen, this is … Ben Cole in Alaska. I’m in Anchorage, and I noticed an article about the loss of your aircraft earlier this week, and there’s something I think you need to know as soon as possible.”

He left his number and broke the connection, not entirely sure what he would have said had the pilot answered in person.

Schroedmger was sitting on the adjacent wmdowsill, watching him with intense disinterest, and Ben looked at him thoughtfully.

“So what do I say to him, boy, when he calls back? Hi, I’m with a government project I can tell you nothing about, but Monday a

private jet registered somewhere else making a flight that officially never existed may have theoretically knocked you out of the sky? All you have to do is illegally hack into a government computer and risk ten years in prison and you’ll find the evidence?” Not exactly a brilliant move.” Ben shook his head in true confusion, acutely aware of the danger.

But the alternative of silence was even worse.

gracie’s cell phone began ringing as she left the main road through Port Angeles and started up the mountainside toward Hurricane Ridge, twelve miles into the Olympic Mountain Range.

“Rachel, would you answer that for me?”

Rachel Rosen nodded and pulled the phone out of Gracie’s purse, catching it on the fourth ring.

“Mom? Is that you?” the feminine voice on the other end asked as soon as she heard Rachel’s “Hello.”

“April! Oh, honey, where are you?”

“What’s wrong? Where’s Dad? I’ve been trying to reach him.”

Rachel gave her a surprisingly cogent summary. “We’re halfway up the ridge road right now.”

“Grade saw him?”

“Yes. Sitting, or standing—”

“Standing,” Gracie filled in.

“She says standing by a parking area on the ridge. There was a ranger with him. Where are you?”

ed the phone over and Gracie shook her head. “Push the speakerphone feature, Rachel.”

“Where?”

“

ower right-hand corner of the little window. The ED display.

That one. Yes.”

Rachel activated the button and held the phone out.

“April? Where are you?” Gracie asked.

“She’s on a tug,” Rachel said in a low voice as April repeated the same information.

“I just now got a good cellular signal,” April added. “What’s all that noise in the background?”

“We have you on speakerphone,” Gracie replied, maneuvering the car around a hairpin turn to the right.

“Oh. Okay. Mom, you’re still there?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I … was only going to tell Gracie this, Mom, because I’m not sure it makes any difference, but the wreckage of the Albatross has apparently been, for want of a better word, stolen.”

“What?” Gracie said, involuntarily looking at the cell phone speaker as if she could discern April’s meaning.

April summarized what had happened. “We think the most likely culprit is the Coast Guard or the Navy. Scott has flown off to check on any ships still outbound, but if they snagged the wreckage two days ago, they could have it most anywhere by now.”

“Dammit!” Gracie said, slamming on the brakes to slow for a turn she’d misjudged.

“I know it,” April responded.

“No … I meant the road, here. But as to that news, yes, another dammit is in order.”

“I’m more or less out of ideas,” April said, amid the sound of wind roaring through the microphone as she stood on the tug’s bow.

“Okay, let me think. I’m trying to drive, too.”

“You want me to call you back, Gracie? After you find Dad?”

“Watch out, dear,” Rachel said, pointing to a couple of bikers in the right lane ahead inching their way up the road. Gracie steered around them with squealing tires and accelerated up the next straight section.

“Okay, April, I think you’re probably right,” Gracie said. “The Coast Guard or the Navy. I’ll have to go find the federal judge at home and file an amended complaint this afternoon … as soon as I can get back to Seattle.”

“You’re … we’re going to sue them?” April asked.

“Kind of. I’m literally thinking out loud now, but… probably another temporary restraining order, and … best I can describe it without thinking this through … kind of a habeas corpus action for the Albatross. You know, demand they produce the actual body of the thing?”

“Gracie, I’m obviously not a lawyer, but even / know that a habeas corpus writ only applies to people, not things like wrecked airplanes.”

“Yeah … I said kind of. I don’t know, kiddo, but we’ll figure it out. More important, we’ll smoke them out and get to the bottom of who’s doing this.” Even with the tidal wave of bad news and driving demands crowding her brain, she ached to lean on April’s shoulder and cry over the acidic tongue-lashing she’d received from Janssen a few hours before. But April and Rachel had enough to deal with. Her angst would have to wait.

“We’re almost there, April.

Let me call you back,” Gracie

announced. April clicked off on her end and Rachel folded the cell phone as Gracie negotiated the last curve to the parking area and slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a stop in a cloud of gravel and dust. She jammed the gear shift into park and yanked the door handle, forgetting her seat belt and cursing the existence of the thing as she fought to untangle herself and find the release.

Rachel was already out of the car as Gracie alighted and motioned

her in the direction of the slope where she’d seen Arlie. The incline down from the parking area was far steeper than she’d noticed from the cockpit of the Cherokee, and she slowed herself after vaulting over the guardrail.

He was thirty yards or so ahead, sitting on the ground and looking east, and she slowed to a fast walk as she approached, surprised his hair had become so thin.

“Captain?” she called.

There was no answer.

She closed to within fifteen feet before trying again, wondering why he looked so strange.

“Captain?”

He turned suddenly and looked at her with a blank expression on a face she didn’t recognize.

“Sorry?” the man said.

Gracie came to halt in total confusion. “I … ah … thought you were someone else,” she stammered. Rachel came up behind her and put a hand on Gracie’s shoulder.

“That’s not our car up there, Gracie.”

She turned to Rachel. “No?” Then back to the man, whose curiosity had been piqued. “I … saw you from the air and thought you were … a friend.”

He nodded. “I saw you fly over.”

“You haven’t seen another fellow out here in the last few hours, have you?” She described Arlie Rosen and he shook his head.

“Okay, thanks. Sorry.”

The man resumed his contemplative position as Rachel put an arm around Gracie and headed them back to the car.

“I’m sorry, Rachel, I thought…”

“He’s the same build as Arlie. He would look the same from the air.”

“That explains why he didn’t wave. I mean, here he was seeing his airplane and such.”

They got the car in gear and started back as Rachel’s cell phone

rang, the three bars of Beethoven’s Fifth symphony sending her hand into her purse in a lightning-fast movement. Gracie could hear the distraught male voice on the other end, despite the road noise, as Rachel held it to her ear.

“Rachel? Baby, where are you? Are you okay?”

The reply was a choked-back sob. “Arlie! Where are you?”

“Here at home. I just got back. What’s happening?”

Rachel was crying openly now, waving her hand but having trouble forming words. She struggled back the tears and spoke, telling him how panicked they’d been.

“Honey, didn’t you get my note?”

“No.”

“On your laptop. I had it running like a banner to tell you I was going to go up to Elwha Dam and just think for a few hours.”

“I didn’t look at it, Arlie! I was too scared when I woke up and you weren’t there. I didn’t know what to think. I called Gracie and she flew over in the Cherokee.”

“You’ve got to get back here. Something’s come up. We’ve got to get out of here for a while.”

“Why?”

“Just… just get back quickly.”

After hanging up, Rachel fished out a tissue and wiped her eyes as Gracie negotiated the curves coming down the mountainside.

Rachel’s enormous relief was evident in the tears that wouldn’t stop. She motioned toward a turnout just ahead.

“You okay now, Rachel?” Gracie asked, pulling in and stopping.

Rachel blew her nose hard, wiped her eyes again, then smiled and nodded. “Now I am,” she replied in a steady voice, full control returning, “although he sounds really shaken up. I want to drive, Gracie, and let you get April back on the phone and tell her her dad’s home.”

“Agreed,” Gracie said, as she set the parking brake for the transfer. “I should have known that wasn’t the captain when I first caught sight of him back there. He didn’t have enough hair.”

Rachel began laughing as well. “I know. I remember thinking as we approached him, I know the last few days have been stressful, but…””

“We should be ashamed of ourselves,” Gracie said.

“Yeah, we should,” Rachel replied as she glanced at Gracie and ignited a new round of laughter. “And then there was the matter of that paunch,” Rachel continued. “I knew that wasn’t Arlie when I saw that paunch.”

“Well… now with all due respect, Rachel, the captain does have a belly on him.”

“Not like that!” Rachel laughed as she opened the car door and winked at Gracie. “I happen to be an authority on his physiology.”

“Okay, I’m not touching that.”

fr rlie could be seen in the kitchen window talking on the phone when Rachel and Gracie pulled into the drive. Gracie saw him turn and wave as he put the phone down and hurried out to scoop Rachel up and hold her tightly. He reached for Gracie as well.

“I’ve got a strange call I’ve got to get back to.”

“What?” Rachel managed, but he’d already turned to Gracie. “You may want to get on the extension.” He outlined the message left by Ben Cole in Anchorage.

Gracie entered the kitchen and picked up the phone as Arlie returned to the line.

“Okay Mr. Cole,” Arlie was saying. “I’m sorry for the interruption.”

“Actually, sir, it’s Dr. … Ph.D.-type.”

“Sorry, Doctor.”

“Captain Rosen, this is delicate, and there are things I can’t tell you—for reasons that I’m not at liberty to explain as I said a minute ago—but there is a substantial possibility that your aircraft actually had a midair collision—or your propeller did—with another aircraft Monday evening.”

“Yeah, well, we’re taking care of it.”

“Captain, I can’t discuss anything more over the phone. Maybe I could come down there and talk to you in Seattle or something, but I simply can’t say more right now. I could be in desperate trouble for even calling you, but my conscience won’t let me ignore this.”

“Were you the other pilot?” Arlie asked, rubbing his eyes.

“No, sir. I’m not a pilot. I just know … there was another aircraft in the vicinity. I’m only assuming you touched.”

Gracie was gesturing to him across the room and mouthing something.

“Hold … hold on, Dr. Cole,” Arlie said, putting his hand over the mouthpiece as Gracie did the same.

“We could have April hook up with him up there!” Gracie said in a stage whisper.

Arlie shook his head vigorously. “No.” He returned to the line.

“Dr. Cole, let me have your number, and I’ll call you if we need more. I appreciate your call.”

There was a puzzled hesitation on the other end, and Arlie avoided Gracie’s astounded look as they exchanged phone numbers and disconnected.

“Captain, what on earth are you doing? He could be vital to us.”

“We’re dropping it, Gracie.”

“What?”

“I told you on the phone I want to drop it. You’re going to get in trouble with your firm. You probably shouldn’t even be over here right now.”

Gracie walked to him, her eyes searching his.

“Captain, this isn’t you. I know you care about my circumstances, but this isn’t you to run from a fight.”

Arlie was holding onto the center island of the kitchen with his left hand, and she could see him tighten his grip as he looked at the floor and licked his lips, tense seconds ticking by as Rachel watched in alarm from several feet away. At last he looked at Gracie, his eyes distant and hollow.

“There are … things I can’t tell you, Gracie. But I want you to withdraw the things you’ve filed and just… just wait.”