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three engines, or even two engines in a dire emergency.
What's concerning officials here is the total loss of communications
with the Sabre. She has three independent
satellite communication systems and a datalink system that
maintains continuous ground contact throughout the flight
apart from a brief blackout on re-entry. They've lost everything,
so whatever has gone wrong, it does look very serious
indeed.'
The picture returned to the studio. 'We'll bring you
updates on that story as soon as we have more information,'
said the anchorman, grim-faced.
The two conspirators sat in silence, both believing that
the Sabre was a total loss, not knowing that the spaceplane's
automatic fire extinguisher systems had done a better job
than Lesseps had anticipated.
Joe looked at his watch. His voice was calm when he
spoke. 'I've got a flight to catch this afternoon, John. I'd better
be getting back to my hotel.' He rose and placed the
briefcase on the chair beside Lesseps. 'I guess you've earned
that.'
The French-Canadian didn't seem to hear Joe but continued
staring at the television. Joe shrugged and left the coffee
shop without a backward glance. He was pleased to note
that the pain in his knee had gone. It made his step quite
jaunty as he headed towards the taxi rank.
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Ralph Peterson, four of his senior designers and Claudia
Picquet greeted the news of the total loss of communications
with the Sabre in stunned silence. They were grouped
around the terminal in Jim Curtis's office, the men's smart
suits and carnation buttonholes in contrast with their
sombre expressions. Claudia was wearing a silk blouse with
a grey skirt and jacket that she had bought for the occasion.
She was strangely withdrawn but her colleagues were too
preoccupied to notice.
A screen carried a picture of Honicker, Alec and
Christine, also grave-faced. Alec was having trouble holding
back his tears; Christine was clutching his hand tightly. On
another screen there was a shirt-sleeved David Morgan in
the BASOR. He took off his boom mike headset and tossed
it on his desk. A speaker carried the hiss of white noise from
the satellite transponder that would normally be relaying the
Sabre's flight deck voice channel.
'They'd be able to make contact even if they'd suffered a
total loss of power,' said Ralph slowly. 'The third system has
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its own integral batteries. The feeds to the satellite antenna
are carried in an armoured cable.'
'So we've got an eighty per cent bomb probability,' said
Morgan with finality. 'If that's so, why the fire first? We had
contact with Rowe and Allenby for several seconds after they'd reported the
fire. Do you want another replay?'
'I've read up on magnesium alloy,' said Alec, not looking
up at the camera. 'The dummy reg wouldn't actually explode
- it would burn. A fireball.'
'And that could have caused the explosion,' Ralph added.
He picked up the drawing of the dummy regulator that had
been echoed from Triton's site. 'Possibly a flashback to one
of the liquid nitrogen cylinders in the service bay.'
'Bottle 6 would be nearest,' said one of the senior
designers. 'And that going up would probably set off--'
298
'Could have! Possibly! Probably7' Morgan snapped. 'Right
now we need definite answers, not supposition. Jim Curtis
will tell you that 005 was under constant surveillance from
the moment she arrived here. No one could have planted a
device.'
'There's nothing on the recordings,' Curtis confirmed.
'The chief ground engineer's just done a fast read-through of
the surveillance system memory cards. No one went near
engine Two and he says that swapping regulators would
take at least thirty minutes.'
'So we still don't know whether or not a device was
planted,' Morgan continued. 'We're just guessing. For all we
know she might've been hit by junk that DEBRA didn't
know about.'
'NASA's debris alert radar has plots on even bits of wire!'
Ralph answered sharply.
'But NASA don't give a one hundred per cent guarantee,
Mr Peterson. DEBRA is a risk reduction system.'
'We do know that no debris could possibly knock out all the Sabre's comms! It
just isn't possible!' Ralph was dangerously
close to losing his temper.
Claudia spoke for the first time. 'A bomb was planted.'
There was a sudden silence in the room. Everyone stared
at her. She looked utterly crushed. Silent tears coursed down
her cheeks, streaking her make-up. 'It was planted at St
Omer . . . And . . . And . . .' She bowed her head and groped
in her handbag for a handkerchief. A colleague tried to put
an arm around her but she pushed him away. She managed
to compose herself and looked up at Curtis, her gaze steady.
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'Number Two engine, Mr Curtis ... It was planted the
evening before you took delivery . . . And I know who
planted it. . .' Her self-control dissolved and she collapsed
in tears.
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