SLINGSHOT, page 29
part #1 of The Starchild Saga Series
The general fiddled with his link controls, and in a moment, the walls of his office disappeared behind a holographic display that mirrored the walls and windows in Mabel’s quarters atop the Smith Tower in Seattle. He nodded to himself as he gazed through the virtual windows. That’s a fine view of a beautiful city.
As the image of Alex collapsed into itself, the General called up the latest launch booster order summary. Nearly one launch every two days for the next two months. He smiled to himself. At ten million U.S. dollars per launch, that was nearly $300 million badly needed cash for his beloved DPRK—and a tidy ten percent for his own pocket. And that old fool, Kim Jong-un, has no clue.
The general arranged for another substantial deposit into an offshore account that would eventually end up in the coffers of EI. Chump change compared to the profits he was reaping from his booster activities. He hesitated, and then performed another transaction, swelling his personal account by several million.
Before retiring for the day, the general adjusted his controls again. This time the holographic image that replaced his walls mirrored the ornate interior of a room high atop the government palace in central Teheran, the private office of the Persian Caliph. For a few minutes, he let his eyes roam over the ornate fixtures, the priceless carpet, the ancient wall hangings. “You and I will do business soon,” he whispered quietly as he shut down the display and departed for the day.
SEATTLE—AIRBORNE TO BOEING FIELD
M
abel climbed into the waiting helicopter on the twenty-first-floor observation deck, and immediately established a link to Alex. “I’m in the chopper on my way to Boeing. Let’s finish our conversation.”
“I cut you off before, Mabel, because Carey Endsley had just hacked into your system…” Mabel started to interrupt, but Alex held up his hand. “Wait a sec, Mabel. Carey hacked into your system, and found someone there before him. Carey traced it to Quinton Radler, CEO of EI, down on the fourteenth floor. Carey says they’re hard tapped into your system.”
“My God,” Mabel said, astonished and troubled beyond words.
“That’s not all,” Alex continued. “First though, you need to contact all your senior people, and tell them not to use the company Link for anything sensitive. Tell them to use only encrypted personal Links for sensitive stuff. But,” Alex emphasized the next few words, “make sure they continue to use the company Link for routine matters.”
During Mabel’s short flight to King County Airport, and then during her extended flight to Howland, Alex brought her up to date on his preliminary findings and where they seemed to be taking him. He told her that he was fairly certain EI was receiving its funding from a government entity in North Korea, but he didn’t have the resources to follow it any further. “Knowing it, and proving it in court, however, are two different things,” he told her. “We’re working on that. Carey can do things on computers and in the Web that I didn’t think were possible. We follow the money, and I think we can get these guys on murder charges. You better bring John Boyles into the picture. We’ll get him the evidence, and if anyone can pull this off, he can. One more thing,” he told her. “It’s critically important that we don’t let EI know what we’ve learned.”
Mabel spent the rest of her trip planning their attack by Link with John Boyles and Rex Johnson. They suggested that Carleton Montague and Delmer Woodward be brought into the picture. “If we’re going to beat these guys,” Boyles told her, “we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
BAKER ISLAND
S
unrise brought with it the full extent of the devastation on Baker Island. The pile of cable on top of the socket consisted of sixteen kilometers of tangled boost cable, less several hundred meters that were shredded as the cable shed its momentum from its 400-meter-per-second velocity. This shredding process also destroyed the immediate launch facility, killing the three men on duty. Their bodies never were found, although for days after the crews untangled and removed the cable, sea birds flocked over and about the socket, finding morsels of human flesh that they carried off to their mates and nests. Alex found it difficult to look at the birds the same way after that, even though he knew, intellectually, that they were simply doing what sea birds do.
Because of his broken ribs, Alex was forced to curtail his supervising activities. Klaus assumed the task while directing Apryl to put Alex to bed and keep him there for a couple of days. Alex protested, but not too much, knowing that Klaus would do just fine. He reached a compromise with Apryl, and set up a workspace that he could use while sitting, propped up in bed. Klaus rigged several strategic holocams so that Alex could follow most of what was happening outside.
The first task was removing sixteen kilometers of cable. Although the cable appeared undamaged, Alex was reluctant to reuse it, given the circumstances under which it had reached the ground. After considering the alternatives, Alex and Klaus decided to use the ocean-going tug to tow one end of the cable to sea, going south, until the bitter end was several kilometers south of the island. The solution was simple, elegant, and had virtually no ecological impact. By 8:30 AM, teams had dragged the cable end to the water’s edge, and attached it to a line from the tug. Five minutes later, it was on its way out to sea. The tug maintained a ten-knot speed, and a scant hour-and-a-half later, the cable was just another minor bump on the abyssal floor, a bump that would disappear under a layer of silt within a year.
∞
Early that afternoon, after a thirty-nine-hundred-nautical-mile supersonic trip, the LLI corporate jet touched down at Amelia Mary Earhart International Airport. Mabel Fitzwinters transferred immediately to the waiting Chinook, and twenty minutes later, she disembarked on the Baker tarmac following a short circumnavigation of the island. Margo and Klaus met Mabel as she stepped onto a frying-pan-hot surface under a blazing mid-afternoon sun. The sprinkling of white clouds did nothing to mitigate the sun’s intensity. As the Chinook twin blades coasted to a stop, several dozen birds wheeled into a disorganized cacophony of sound and sight, soaring and plunging as they rode the currents rising from the tarmac. Mabel looked around in amazement. She had expected to see the enormous pile of cable rising from the socket, but on her flight around the island, all she saw were birds fussing over a few destroyed buildings. Despite the tragedy, she thought, this is a tropical paradise, a bit hot perhaps, but a paradise nonetheless.
“Where’s Alex?” she asked.
“In bed—Apryl’s orders,” Klaus said with a twinkle in his eyes. “She’s being a real mother hen about him.”
“I want to meet this girl.”
“We’re headed there now,” Margo told her as they climbed into the waiting pickup.
In Alex’s room shortly thereafter, Mabel made herself comfortable on the couch someone had hastily dragged into the room. Cool, conditioned air eased the discomfort she felt from the unaccustomed tropical heat. She gratefully accepted a rum-spiked cooler that Noah, the Baker Compound Steward, pressed into her hand. Bell-like voices of Maori girls floated through the air, just above the threshold of hearing. She looked at Alex warmly. “Thank God you’re okay.” She turned to Apryl, who stood shyly to one side. “You, child…” Mabel motioned her closer.
“Yes’m.”
“None of that. You’re doing a wonderful job…,” Mabel ran a quick mental name-recall routine, “…Apryl. First Kelly Seidell, and now the boss himself. It appears you have made a bigger difference than we ever imagined when Emmett Bihm hired you.” Apryl blushed and stepped over to Alex to fluff his pillows.
Noah slipped noiselessly into the room and whispered into Klaus’ ear. Klaus turned to Mabel. “Lori from the Fox Syndicate is requesting a short interview with you here in Alex’s room. She’s putting together a special on what happened, and I think she wants to include some footage of your visit with Alex.”
“Send her in, of course,” Mabel said, looking forward to meeting the woman who, despite her severe emotional shock just a few hours ago, was on the job, doing her professional best.
Lori entered the room with Dex Lao in tow. She wore a restrained grey skirt and white blouse, and had swept her hair onto her head to keep it out of her way during this hectic day. Margo stepped over to Lori and squeezed her hand, mouthing something that Mabel could not make out.
“Mabel Fitzwinters, this is Lori Kutcher from the Fox Syndicate.” Margo led Lori to the couch. “Lori, this is the woman who made all this possible.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I remain on the couch, Ms Kutcher,” Mabel said. “I’m feeling the tropical heat.”
“Lori, please…,” Lori said as she leaned over to kiss Mabel’s cheek.
What an utterly charming young woman. Mabel smiled warmly at her. “I’m so sorry for your personal loss.” Lori blushed slightly.
“We will all miss Mary,” Lori said. “She became pretty important to all of us when she helped Bruce escape from the Aku Aku, you know.”
Hardly noticed at the side of the room, Dex recorded the conversation.
“Mabel Fitzwinters,” Lori said more formally, “would you please tell my viewers why the Chairman of Launch Loop International came all the way down here on such short notice.”
“This is an unusual business, Lori. We’ve just suffered a cataclysmic tragedy. These people,” Mabel swept the room with her arm, “are like my family. They don’t need me here, of course.” She chuckled wryly. “In fact, I’m probably in the way and consuming valuable resources and personnel time…” She held up her hand as Margo started to protest. “But there are times when face-to-face is the only way. I can’t give a needed hug over a Link. I can’t wipe away a tear long distance.” Mabel touched the corner of her eye with a napkin. “Right here, right now, I’m needed. I won’t overstay my welcome, but I have to be here when I’m needed.”
∞
A half-hour later, Lori smoothed her skirt, squared her shoulders, and set her features to their most professional look. “We are standing at the Baker Socket where, just a few short hours ago, the Baker Skytower rose eighty kilometers into the sky to meet with Amelia Earhart Skyport. This is the western end of a twenty-five-hundred-kilometer-long doorway into space that will begin commercial operation in a few months—although that start date has had to be pushed back as a result of a major setback the project experienced last night. Even as I speak, seven brave men are stranded eighty kilometers above us in the sky over Baker Island. Alex Regent and his people are frantically working to rescue them.” Lori described what had happened the night before, and then reviewed the events that led up to the explosion. She was specific and graphic when describing the role Green Force played. She included an interview with Bruce where he described his infiltration of Green Force, and what he learned about their goals and tactics. She included another interview with Margo, where she described how Green Force had cut the tensioner cables, and her efforts to put them back in place. She concluded with an analysis by Alex from his bed of what might have motivated Green Force to take such drastic actions, of what it must have cost to put the entire plan into effect, and why all the information pointed to a behind-the-scenes party with deep pockets and a lot to lose from Slingshot’s success. During his analysis, Alex carefully avoided mentioning specific names, but his implications were unmistakable. The Democratic Peoples’ Republic of Korea’s fingerprint was everywhere.
Lori finished up. “The huge pile of cable is already gone. The wreckage of the destroyed buildings has been removed. Rescue efforts are underway to bring the seven stranded men back to Earth. LLI is gearing up to make a replacement cable that will be ready in a few days to load onto barges like these at the Port of Seattle.” The scene shifted to stock footage of several ocean-going barges. “By the time the cables arrive a week later, the buildings will have been replaced, and the launch facility will be ready to receive the cables. With a bit of luck and a whole lot of sweat and hard work, Slingshot will be ready to move forward a month from now, God willing.” Lori smiled her best professional smile. “This is Lori Kutcher with Fox Syndicate coming to you from Slingshot on Baker Island in the equatorial Pacific—the new gateway to the stars.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SEATTLE—SMITH TOWER
“I
can set us up for another shot,” Darius Gotch told his boss, Quinton Radler. “We have an open window with a tight timeline.” They were sitting at the conference table in the Smith Tower fourteenth-floor offices of Environment, Inc., with personnel head Dane Curvin and Katelynn Leete, who implemented manufacturing sabotage.
“I’m listening,” Radler said.
“They have to check every inch of Earhart Skyport before they certify it for passengers. If we can force them to accept a government inspector as part of the team, perhaps we can insert Watson one more time.”
“Why Watson? He’s screwed up twice already.”
“Not really, Quinton.” He held up a hand as Radler appeared ready to interrupt. “I know the job didn’t get done, but Watson DID cut two tension cables. We learned a great deal about their capabilities from that. The bomb did bring down the skytower. But it wasn’t Watson’s fault that the bomb wasn’t strong enough to crash the whole thing. He did his job. It was pure bad luck that he got caught.”
“Don’t need that kind of luck,” Radler said.
“I know, but hear me out. If you can get him on the inspection team as a government weenie, here’s what he can do.”
Gotch opened his case and pulled out a cylindrical object that he placed on the conference table. “This is a section of the sheath that holds the rail. It’s the identical material. Watson—as the government weenie—will be required to inspect the sheath closely anywhere near the point of explosion.” He reached into his case again and pulled out two glass vials of colorless, water-like liquid. “This is some amazing shit. Watch.” He snapped off the tops of the vials and emptied them onto the sheath section, where they formed a viscous gel. The area covered by the gel appeared to do nothing at first. Gotch started a timer and then watched while they talked. Five minutes passed—still nothing. Another five minutes passed while the people at the table continued to discuss the overall problem. Then, as if on cue, at the ten-minute mark, the surface shriveled rapidly and fell into the sheath. “There’s something going on you don’t see,” he said. “This stuff works like acid on the sheath material. It is designed to subsume the surface layer over ten minutes, and then it eats right through the rest of the sheath. When it reaches the iron rail segments, however, it’s a whole different ball of wax.” He extracted a piece of rail from his case—three interlocking segments, the middle one a double male. He demonstrated how the segments slid together and apart, almost without friction. He sprinkled the residue from the disintegrated sheath onto the male section right where it slid into a female section, and then moved the segments together. When he tried to pull them apart, he could not. “Try it,” he said, passing the segments around the table.
“The residue,” he said with a grin, “creates a molecular bond between the soft iron pieces, so they fuse together. Put enough of this shit on the sheath at Baker, so you fuse enough sections, and when they reach the Jarvis deflector two-and-a-quarter minutes later, they tear the rail apart. Since they can’t bend, they try to continue straight on—and rip the deflector to pieces, and with it, the rail.” Gotch leaned back with a self-satisfied expression on his face. “And look at this.” He took out two more glass vials, opened his bottle of drinking water, and dropped them into the bottle. They disappeared. “Both liquids have the same refractive index as water. Our guy can take as much as he needs with him. No one will ever know.”
BAKER ISLAND—BAKER COMPOUND
“M
y old college buddy, Judge Kalolo Leaupepe of the American Samoa Federal Court, called me this morning,” John Boyles told Mabel Fitzwinters on her personal Link.
“American Samoa Federal Court? I didn’t know they had one,” Mabel told him.
“For years now,” he said. “Part of the ninth circuit. Anyway, his call was a confidential heads-up to an old friend. Green Force is about to file a writ to spring Watson. He says they’ll succeed, although we might be able to hold them off for a couple of weeks. He suggests that we officially request the Seattle Federal Court for federal marshals to escort Watson back to Seattle. Says we need to do it immediately, today, even.”
“Okay, John, see to it. I’ll inform Alex.” Mabel closed the Link.
What’s your game plan, Mr. Radler? What devious scheme are you cooking up now? Mabel called Alex, telling him about the marshals. “They should be there in a day or so. Release Watson to them, and good riddance.”
∞
Klaus and Margo sat on the couch in Alex’s room since Apryl still insisted that he remain in bed. “So…what are our options?” Alex asked.
“Three, as I see it,” Klaus said. “They jump, but it’s never been done from so high, and I don’t think they have the right equipment anyway. That’s on my list for things to do tomorrow.” He grinned. “We lower the rail until we can remove them with the Chinook—ours has a ceiling of about nine thousand meters. We’ve got to bring it down to attach the new skytower, but we’re not ready yet, and Critz and his boys are getting thirsty and hungry.” Klaus spread his hands in the air in front of him, palms down, fingers spread. “Or, we send them a capsule from Jarvis, and they ride it back.”
“We haven’t tested any of that yet,” Alex said.
“So we run our tests on the spot,” Klaus answered. “We run a capsule from Jarvis and send it back. We do it several times to iron out any kinks, or to find them and then iron them out.” He sat back and smiled. “It’ll actually speed up the overall process, since we will have to run those tests anyway.”
“He’s right, Alex,” Margo chimed in. “The tests are entirely independent of the skytower. The only thing we can’t do is send the capsules down to Baker once they arrive at Earhart.”
