Code to Zero (31 page)

A string of tracking stations stretches from north to south roughly along the line of longitude 65 degrees west of the Greenwich meridian. The network will receive signals from the satellite every time it passes overhead.

The countdown stood at X minus 390 minutes.

Countdown time was moving in step with real time, so far, but Elspeth knew that might not last. If something unexpected happened, causing a delay, the countdown would stop. After the problem had been solved, the countdown would resume where it had left off, even though ten or fifteen minutes had passed. As the moment of ignition approached, the gap often broadened, and countdown time fell further behind real time.

Today the countdown had started half an hour before noon, at X minus 660 minutes. Elspeth had moved about the base restlessly, updating her timetable, alert for any change in procedure. So far she had gained no clue as to how the scientists planned to guard against sabotage—and she was beginning to feel desperate.

Everyone knew Theo Packman was a spy. The desk clerk at the Vanguard had told people that Colonel Hide had raided the motel with four cops and two FBI men, and asked at the desk for Theo’s room number. The space community quickly linked the news with the last-second cancellation of the launch. The explanation given, that a late weather report had indicated a worsening of the jet stream, was not
believed by anyone inside Cape Canaveral’s perimeter fence. By this morning, everyone had been talking about sabotage. But no one seemed to know what was being done about it; or, if they did, they were not spreading the news. As midday cooled into afternoon, Elspeth’s tension mounted. So far she had not asked direct questions, for fear of arousing suspicion, but before too long she would have to abandon caution. If she did not learn the plan soon, it would be too late for her to act to counter it.

Luke had not showed up yet. She was longing to see him, and dreading it at the same time. She missed him when he was not beside her at night. But when he was there, she thought all the time about how she was working to destroy his dream. Her deceit had poisoned their marriage, she knew. All the same, she yearned to see his face, to hear his grave, courteous voice, to touch his hand and make him smile.

The scientists in the blockhouse were taking a break, eating sandwiches and drinking coffee where they sat, at their panels. There was normally some joshing when an attractive woman entered the room, but today the atmosphere was quiet and tense. They were waiting for something to go wrong: a warning light, an overload, a broken part or a malfunctioning system. As soon as a glitch appeared, the mood would change: they would all become more cheerful as they got immersed in the problem, trying out explanations, brainstorming solutions, jury-rigging a repair. They were the kind of men who were happiest fixing something.

She sat next to Willy Fredrickson, her boss, who had his headphones around his neck while he ate a grilled-cheese sandwich. “I guess you know everyone’s talking about an attempt to sabotage the rocket,” she said conversationally.

Willy looked disapproving, which she took as a sign that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Before he could reply, a technician at the back of the room said, “Willy,” and touched his own headphones.

Willy put down his sandwich and replaced his headset, then said, “Fredrickson here.” He listened for a minute. “Okay,” he said into his mouthpiece. “Quick as you can.” Then he looked up and said, “Stop the countdown.”

Elspeth tensed. Was this the clue she was waiting for? She lifted her notebook and pencil expectantly.

Willy took off his headphones. “There’ll be a ten-minute delay,” he said. His tone of voice betrayed only the normal irritation with any glitch. He took another bite of his sandwich.

Fishing for more information, Elspeth said, “Shall I say why?”

“We have to replace a feed-through capacitor that seems to be chattering.”

It was possible, Elspeth thought. Capacitors were essential to the tracking system, and “chattering”—random small electrical discharges—could be a sign that the device was going to fail. But she was not convinced. She made up her mind to check it out, if she could.

She scribbled a note, then got up and left with a cheery wave. Outside the blockhouse, the afternoon shadows were lengthening. The white shaft of
Explorer I
stood like a signpost to the heavens. She imagined it taking off, lifting with agonizing slowness from the launch pad on its tail flame and rising into the night. Then she envisioned a flash of light brighter than the sun as the rocket exploded, fragments of metal scattering like shards of glass, a ball of red-and-black flame in the night sky, and a roaring sound like the triumphant shout of all the earth’s poor and wretched.

She walked briskly across the sandy lawn to the concrete launch pad, circled around the gantry to the back, and entered the steel cabin in its base that housed the offices and machinery. The gantry supervisor, Harry Lane, was speaking into a phone, making notes with a thick pencil. When he hung up, she said, “Ten minutes’ delay?”

“Could be more.” He did not look at her, but that did not mean much: he was always rude, not liking to see women on the launch pad.

Writing on her pad, she said, “Reason?”

“Replacing a malfunctioning component,” he said.

“Would you care to tell me
which
component?”

“No.”

It was maddening. She still could not tell whether he was covering up for security reasons or being just plain awkward. She turned away. Just
then, a technician in oily overalls walked in. “Here’s the old one, Harry,” he said.

In his dirty hand he held a plug.

Elspeth knew exactly what it was: the receiver for the coded self-destruct signal. The pins that stuck out from it were cross-wired in a complex manner so that only the correct radio signal would cause it to ignite the firing cap.

She walked quickly out the door before Harry could see the triumphant expression on her face. Heart thumping with excitement, she hurried back to her jeep.

She sat in the driving seat, working it out. To prevent sabotage, they were replacing the plug. The new one would be wired differently, to work on a different code. A matching broadcast plug must have been fitted to the transmitter. The new plugs had probably been flown here from Huntsville earlier in the day.

It made sense, she thought with satisfaction. At last she knew what the Army was doing. But how could she outmaneuver them?

The plugs were always made in sets of four, the duplicate pair being a spare in case of malfunction. It was the duplicate pair that Elspeth had examined, last Sunday, when she had sketched the wiring so that Theo could mimic the radio code and trigger the explosion. Now, she thought worriedly, she had to do the same all over again: find the duplicate set, dismantle the transmitter plug, and sketch its wiring.

She started the jeep and drove fast back to the hangars. Instead of going into Hangar R, where her desk was, she entered Hangar D and went to the telemetry room. This was where she had found the duplicate plugs the last time.

Hank Mueller was leaning on a bench with two other scientists, looking solemnly at a complex electrical device. When he saw her he brightened and said, “Eight thousand.”

His colleagues groaned in mock despair and moved away.

Elspeth suppressed her impatience. She would have to play the numbers game with him before anything else. “It’s the cube of twenty,” she said.

“Not good enough.”

She thought for a moment. “Okay, it’s the sum of four consecutive cubes: 11
³
+12
³
+13
³
+14
³
=8,000.”

“Very good.” He gave her a dime and looked expectant.

She racked her brains for a curious number, then said, “The cube of 16,830.”

He frowned, and looked affronted. “I can’t work that out, I need a computer!” he said indignantly.

“You haven’t heard of it? It’s the sum of all the consecutive cubes from 1,134 to 2,133.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“When I was in high school, the number of my parents’ house was 16,830, that’s how I know.”

“This is the first time you’ve ever kept my dime.” He looked comically despondent.

She could not search the lab: she had to ask him. Fortunately, the other men were out of earshot, just. She blurted out, “Do you have the duplicate set of new plugs from Huntsville?”

“No,” he replied, looking even more despondent. “They say security is not good enough here. They put the plugs in a safe.”

She was relieved that he did not question her need to know. “What safe?”

“They didn’t tell me.”

“Never mind.” She pretended to make a note in her book and went out.

She hurried to Hangar R, running across the sandy earth in her high-heeled shoes. She felt optimistic. But she still had a lot to do. It was getting dark already, she noticed.

There was only one safe that she knew of, in Colonel Hide’s office.

Back at her desk, she rolled an Army envelope into her typewriter and marked it: “Dr. W. Fredrickson—Eyes Only.” Then she folded two blank sheets of paper, slid them into the envelope, and sealed it.

She went to Hide’s office, tapped at the door, and walked in. He was alone, sitting behind his desk, smoking a pipe. He looked up and smiled:
like most of the men, he was generally pleased to see a pretty face. “Elspeth,” he said in his slow drawl. “What can I do for you?”

“Would you keep this in the safe for Willy?” She handed him the envelope.

“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Naturally.” He spun around in his chair and opened a cupboard behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Elspeth saw a steel door with a dial. She moved closer. The dial was graduated from 0 to 99, but only multiples of 10 were marked with a figure, the other numbers being indicated by a notch. She peered at the dial. She had sharp eyesight, but still it was difficult to see exactly where Hide stopped the dial. She strained forward, leaning over the desk to get closer. The first number was easy: 10. Then he dialed a number just below 30, either 29 or 28. Finally he moved the dial to between 10 and 15. The combination was something like 10-29-13. It must be his birthday, either the 28th or 29th of October, in 1911, 1912, 1913, or 1914. That gave a total of eight possibilities. If she could get in here alone, she could try them all in a few minutes.

Hide opened the door. Inside were two plugs. “Eureka,” Elspeth whispered.

“What was that?” Hide said.

“Nothing.”

He grunted, tossed the envelope into the safe, closed the door, and spun the dial.

Elspeth was already on her way out. “Thank you, Colonel.”

“Anytime.”

Now she had to wait for him to leave his office. She could not quite see his door from her desk. However, he was farther down the corridor, so he had to pass her office to get out. She propped her door open.

Her phone rang. It was Anthony. “We’re leaving here in a few minutes,” he said. “Do you have what we need?”

“Not yet, but I will.” She wished she felt as sure as she sounded. “What kind of car did you buy?”

“A light green Mercury Monterey, fifty-four model, the old-fashioned style, no tailfins.”

“I’ll recognize it. How’s Theo?”

“Asking me what he should do after tonight.”

“I assumed he’d fly to Europe and continue to work for
Le Monde.
”

“He’s afraid they may track him down there.”

“I guess they might. Then he should go with you.”

“He doesn’t want to.”

“Promise him anything,” she said impatiently. “Just make sure he’s ready for tonight.”

“Okay.”

Colonel Hide passed her door. “I gotta go,” she said, and hung up.

She went out, but Hide had not disappeared. He stood in the next doorway, talking to the girls in the typing pool. He was still in sight of his door: Elspeth could not go in. She loitered for a minute, wishing he would move on. But, when he did, he returned to his office.

He stayed there for two hours.

Elspeth almost went crazy. She had the combination, she only needed to get in there and open the safe, and he would not go away. He sent his secretary to get coffee from the mobile refreshment stall they called the Roach Coach. He did not even go to the bathroom. Elspeth began to dream up ways of putting him out of action. She had been taught, in OSS, how to strangle someone with a nylon stocking, but she had never tried it. Anyway, Hide was a big man, he would put up a hell of a struggle.

She did not leave her office. Her timetable was forgotten. Willy Fredrickson would be furious, but what did that matter?

She looked at her wristwatch every few minutes. At 8:25 Hide at last walked past. She sprang up and went to her door. She saw him heading down the stairs. Launch was now only a couple of hours away: he was probably heading for the blockhouse.

Another man was walking along the corridor toward her. He said, “Elspeth?” in an uncertain voice that she recognized. Her heart stopped, and she met his eye.