Джозеф Хеллер - Maximum Impact

“He did work overseas?”

“For his consulting business, yes.”

“Was he registered as a foreign agent?”

“Oh, yeah. That was the first thing I checked when his appointment was announced. His filings were never even late. He did everything by the book, and as far as anybody knows, including a friend of mine at the Justice Department, there’s never been a hint he abused or misused the regulations.”

“Squeaky clean, huh?”

“To the extent anybody is ever totally clean, I’d say yes. Hell, when Mike and I were debating whether we could trust anybody at the NTSB, Mike said the one guy he’d stake his life on was Sachs.”

“But after Mike was killed, your first instinct was that Sachs was responsible.”

“I was wrong.”

“So now you’re convinced Sachs is okay?”

“It took some pretty convincing proof to get him to reconsider the bird-strike theory. If he wanted to do something to hurt Converse, he’d have done it long before.”

Wister pursed his lips. “I hope you’re right. You’re riding a very fast horse here, Steve. I’d like to see it out front at the finish.”

Schaeffer, Wister, and Pace talked well into the morning, going over facts, probabilities, and suspicions. It was like trying to put together a jigsaw-puzzle picture of a blue sky. All the pieces looked the same, with only slight gradations in shade.

“Sum it up, Steve,” Schaeffer said at last. “What have we got?”

“We have three distinct story lines: the rigged investigation, the three murders, and the mystery of where Harold Marshall fits into it, if anywhere. It still could turn out he’s only trying to come to the aid of a beleaguered constituent.”

“I agree,” said Wister. “And I think we’ll stay out of trouble here if we don’t strain to connect the dots. Let each story play itself out. We’ve got the sources wired. Except for what the NTSB, the Justice Department, or the police choose to confirm officially, I don’t see how we can be bested on this one.”

“Are you satisfied about Ken Sachs and the MacPhearson-Paige thing?” Schaeffer asked his national editor.

Wister nodded. “I think Steve is right on that score. Unless somebody can show us concrete proof Sachs acted inappropriately on behalf of his client, it stinks like an old fish. I think Marshall laid it out there as a smoke screen.”

“I want us absolutely certain of that,” Schaeffer said. “I don’t want to determine it isn’t true simply because we don’t want it to be true.”

“I’ll go back over it,” Pace said. “I think I covered all that ground, but you never know. I could have missed something.”

“For one thing,” Wister suggested, “you should call Marshall and ask him what prompted his call to Avery this morning. That would do two things. It would show Marshall we’re not working only one side of the street, we’re interested in the whole story. It could also give you a feeling for whether he’s got something or he’s bluffing.”

“I think we should do all that, but—”

Schaeffer was interrupted by a knock on his doorjamb. It was Alec Stenofsky, the managing editor. “Sorry to interrupt, folks, but I thought you’d like to see this.”

He handed Schaeffer two sheets of computer paper that appeared to carry the printout of a wire story. “Thanks, John,” said Schaeffer, glancing at it. “Good Lord.”

Wister and Pace waited expectantly. Schaeffer finished reading and handed the pages to Wister and offered a synopsis to Pace.

“Converse is making Marshall’s allegations public and official,” he said. “They issued a statement in Youngstown suggesting the NTSB fabricated the evidence against a bird strike to damage Converse and seed the fortunes of Ken Sachs, former consultant to MacPhearson-Paige.”

“That’s libel,” Pace said.

“Could be,” Schaeffer agreed. “They’re demanding Sachs step aside immediately, and they’re asking the President to fire him if he refuses. They’ve also asked for an immediate congressional investigation, and they quote Marshall as saying he will personally lead the inquiry by the Senate Transportation Committee.”

“Can he do that, as a minority member of the committee?” Wister asked, not glancing up from the story he was reading.

“I don’t know,” Schaeffer said. “He’s ranking minority member—”

“And Garrison Helmutsen isn’t the strongest man in the world,” Pace offered.

“—and, that’s right, he could probably browbeat Helmutsen into doing it out of a, quote-unquote, sense of justice.”

Wister looked up at Pace. “Where are Sachs’s political loyalties?”

“He’s a Democrat,” Pace said.

“So there you are,” said Schaeffer. “If the majority on the Transportation Committee doesn’t go along, it looks like they’re protecting one of their own.” He paused and drummed the desktop with his fingers for a moment, then added, “I think we’re stretching you too thin, Steve. Let’s bring Jill Hughes in. God knows, her quick action on the van broke open the murder cases. She deserves a shot at part of the story. With all you have to cover at the NTSB, the D.C. and Virginia cops, and the Justice Department, you’re already running at top speed. Do you mind?”

“No. That’s fine,” Pace replied. “But I want to hang onto the other threads myself.”

“I don’t see any problem unless you get overloaded,” Schaeffer said. “How about if we bring Glenn in? You two get on well, and this is a story he’d take any piece of he could get. You’re still point man. This is your baby, and you’ve been through hell for it. But I want news stories, not heroes, and I’d like Glenn in for support, even if he only does legwork.”

“I think I can handle it alone.” By the tone of his voice, Pace meant to make it plain his objection was not a strong one. He certainly didn’t object to Glenn. If he had to take help, he’d just as soon take it from Glenn as anyone.

“Trust me on this,” Schaeffer said. “When this one starts cracking open, it’s going to break in places we haven’t even dreamed of. You’ll be working seven days a week. You’re going to need some relief.”

“You’re the boss,” Pace replied with a shrug that said he would accept the order gracefully.

“You bet your ass,” Schaeffer boomed. “And I’m damned glad somebody around here finally noticed.”

To say the hastily-called press conference was tumultuous would have been gross understatement. Most of the major news organizations in the Western world had at least one reporter crammed into the auditorium. Photographers fought with television cameramen for elbow room, and radio reporters struggled to find open space on the podium where they could clamp microphones. The wooden structure, with the NTSB logo on the front, looked like an electronic forest.

They were drawn there by Mitch Gabriel’s notice that the NTSB chairman would respond to a multitude of questions.

An NTSB aide had taped single sheets of paper to two rows of chairs at the front of the room, scrawling on each sheet the name of a news organization that regularly covered aviation matters. All of the major newspapers, wire services, and networks had reserved spots, as did the trade press. Pace noticed with satisfaction that he was front row, center aisle. Since the television cameras were consigned to the back of the room, Pace had an unobstructed view of the dais and, presumably, a clear shot at being recognized with a question for Sachs.

He expected a sort of grudging coolness from his colleagues, and that’s pretty much what he got, except from Jeffrey Hines, the veteran aviation writer for the Los Angeles Times. Hines was assigned the seat to Pace’s right. He slumped into it, made eye contact with Pace, and grinned.