Shattered Legacy (36 page)

“I've been trying to reach you people for the last hour! What’s going on there?”

“We just had an … incident.”

“An
incident
? Goddamn it, man, I just watched my spaceship blow up on national television!”

Gettleman tried very hard to keep his voice even. A sharp pain lanced through his gut. “Sir, we are still assessing the damage. Now is not the time -”

“What happened to the astronauts?”

“We’re not sure yet.”

“Well, tell me
something
!” Dorian demanded. “This is outrage -”

“Just a moment, sir.”

Gettleman pushed a button and put Sinclair Dorian on hold. The red light on the phone blinked angrily.

He turned to the nearest aide. “What happened to the astronauts?”

“We’re reporting a complete vehicle failure, sir. We don’t have any word from -”

“Did they
eject
? We should be able to detect the transponder.”

“There’s nothing, sir. The control module did not separate.”

Gettleman lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He reached again for the phone, but before he picked up, he looked over and saw Jack Kroft still slumped in his chair, his eyes glazed over in shock. Gettleman gestured to him. The agency director slowly stood and shuffled over.

“Mr. Dorian?” Gettleman said as he picked up the phone and took the line off hold.

“- know what the
hell
is going -”

Gettleman turned to Kroft and shoved the receiver into his hands. “It’s for you,” he said to the surprised director.

Gettleman turned back to his desk, picked up his bottle of antacids, and walked to the edge of the platform. Until there was something to report, his people were trained to follow emergency procedures. He popped a handful of tablets and chewed.

The control module of the orbiter was designed to double as an emergency lifeboat. Although the pod was the most structurally sound component of the orbiter, he could hardly believe that the astronauts could have survived through all that destruction.

But maybe they did. Maybe they beat the odds.

“Is there
anything
?” he asked, looking out over the room.

The communications tech looked back and slowly shook his head.

Gettleman’s mouth tightened as he blinked back tears. He stared out at the smoking wreckage, refusing to acknowledge the full horror of the moment. He wouldn’t break down here, he promised himself. Maybe they were still alive, just waiting to be rescued. He shook his head, knowing that he needed to head up that rescue. He was still considering best-case scenarios when Jack Kroft hung up the telephone. His expression was grim as he came up to Gettleman.

“Noah,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Behind the half of the Vehicle Assembly Building that still remained standing, a small utility door slowly creaked open - only a little at first, and then all the way. Two figures stumbled out, blinking in the sunlight and coughing uncontrollably, their bodies powdered with white dust. They looked around. From where they stood, the area looked fine. The Mission Control Tower and the administration building stood in the distance. The only hint of trouble came from the flashing lights of emergency vehicles rushing across the compound.

Lynn Anholt turned her attention to Samson Tyler, who she was still supporting with one arm. Together they started to make their way around the building, with Tyler limping badly.

Not until they cleared the intact side of the VAB did they realize what they had survived. Through the smoke and flames, they saw the huge swath of destruction that had raked the building. Twisted steel clawed from the ground. The skeletal remains of the
Naiad
sat enveloped in a roaring inferno. Fire teams were working from their yellow emergency trucks, shooting streams of foam onto the wreckage. Black plumes of smoke billowed angrily into the sky, driven by gusts of hot desert wind.

Tyler heard Lynn’s intake of breath and knew that she was thinking the same thing he was.

That could have been us.

It was a long walk back to the main compound. All around them, sirens blared and vehicles rushed about. Several helicopters flew in low from the west, roaring above them and kicking up more choking dust. Security personnel rushed past on foot and in vehicles, but no one stopped to help them.

Finally, they reached the administration building. They made their way across a parking lot toward the back entrance.

“Samson Tyler?”

Lynn released Tyler as a black Suburban pulled up beside them. Four FBI agents piled out and formed a semi-circle around him. Bloody and dusty, Tyler shifted on his feet, looking at each man in turn.

With a grim expression, he said, “You’re late.”

The Special Agent in Charge stepped forward and flashed a badge. “We've been ordered to take you in, Mr. Tyler. We have a warrant for your arrest.”

Another agent stepped forward, bearing handcuffs. He looked Tyler up and down.

The rumble in the distance shifted in pitch. Everyone turned as the blazing orbiter’s superstructure groaned and shifted within the remains of the Vehicle Assembly Building. A muffled explosion blew apart the cargo section, spraying debris over the area. They all stared at the carnage in silence, watching the inferno intensify and belch more smoke into the New Mexico sky.

The funeral pyre of the
Naiad
was an awesome, horrible sight.

Samson Tyler was the first to break the silence. “All right,” he said, slowly turning from the scene and offering out his hands. “Let's get this over with.”

The agents placed him in handcuffs and read him his rights. Then they left.

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY

(AP) Federal investigators and the NTSB are assisting Templar Enterprises in determining the cause of the
Naiad
disaster. Cleanup operations have already begun. Sorting through the wreckage will take several weeks. - The president called for a day of “prayer and reflection” for the families of the three astronauts killed in the crash. – Templar Enterprises has grounded its flight program until engineers determine the causes of the failure of the Naiad’s port engine and the subsequent explosion at the Thomas Dorian Space Center.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Still sore from his injuries, Samson Tyler winced under Teresa Keller’s embrace. After a long moment she released him, held him at arm's length, and looked him up and down. She examined his bruised face with a critical and sympathetic eye.

“Rough week?” she asked with a grim smile.

The two could not have looked more mismatched. Tyler was dressed in a gray business suit, his face looking like he went ten rounds with a prizefighter. Teresa was dressed in a white tank-top and shorts. For a long, awkward moment, the two said nothing.

Tyler opened his mouth to say something, but Teresa spoke first.

“Let’s walk,” she said. With the main branch of the New York Public Library ahead, they started along the colorful perennial border of Bryant Park. Tyler kept up with a slight limp. It was a warm morning, promising sunny skies for the day.

“So you went to New Mexico after all,” she said in a distinctly neutral voice.

“It was a last-minute decision.” He looked over at her. “You should have seen the place. It really was amazing.”

They fell silent again for a few moments. Then Teresa said, “I was home when I saw your press conference on television. You were nervous, weren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“Because you started your speech with a joke.” She shook her head. “I just couldn't believe it later when the ship crashed. The whole thing was shown live. You were actually inside that building when it was hit?”

“On the opposite end, yes.”

“My God. You could have been killed…”

“Along with our astronauts, yeah.”

“None of them survived?”

Tyler shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“What happens to their families?”

“The company provides generous death benefits. Astronauts have additional life insurance coverage and a five-year salary continuation for spouses.”

“Hardly seems enough.”

“I know.”

They both fell silent as they continued walking. They passed the small tables of people drinking and eating, enjoying the morning.

“At least you’re returning my calls now,” Tyler said.

“Don’t get too excited, big boy. I only called you back so you’d stop clogging up my answering machine with all those rambling messages.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Yep.” She looked at him and frowned. “So, that woman in the club that night…”

“Yeah. That was Merrick.”

“Right.” She glanced away and muttered, “The bitch.” She looked back. “What was she doing there, anyway? How did she know that you would be at that club?”

“I don’t know. There was no way Merrick could have known where I was that night unless my bodyguards tipped her off or she somehow tapped my phone.”

“Think your bodyguards were on the take?”

“I doubt it.”

“But you'll never know for sure.”

“Probably not.” He motioned toward an empty table. “Mind if we sit for a moment?”

He grunted as they sat, and he extended his wounded leg. Taking a deep breath, he gave Teresa a tight smile. “So I guess the question for us now is - where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” she said soberly. “I really don’t know.”

His face fell. That was not the answer he wanted, but it was the answer he expected.

She leaned across the table and placed her hand on his. “Hey, we’re busy people, both upwardly mobile. Right? Our relationship wasn’t really going anywhere…”

“So, you think we should end it?”

“Is that what you want?”

Tyler shook his head. He grasped her hand, feeling a rush of nervousness. She was probably ready to break up with him for good. This wasn’t how or where he’d planned to bring this up, but now was as good a time as any. While he still had the nerve.

“All of this,” he told her. “Everything that’s happened. Well, it gave me a chance to put things in perspective, to think about you and me, and where we were headed.”

She nodded, looking at him intently.

“Teresa, I - look, we were on a path that was leading us nowhere. I think we deserve better.”

“Do we?”

“Teresa, I want to take our relationship to the next level. I want to -”

“Wait,” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “Hold on. Is this what I think it is?”

Tyler smiled.

“Are you asking me to move in with you again?”

His smile dropped. “Well, actually -”

“Living together is just a bad idea. You
know
how I feel about that, Samson.”

“You're an old-fashioned girl, I know. I know!”

“Besides, your place is still a disaster.” She pulled her hand back and stood. “Listen, I have half an hour to make my eleven o’clock class. Maybe we can do another morning walk. How about Wednesday? Same time, same place? Maybe we can talk a little more about that path we’re on.”

Tyler forced a smile. “Sure. That would be great.” Then he added, “You know, I do love you, Teresa.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.” Then she bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Call me tonight. I want to know what’s happening.”

“I will.”

He watched her leave, his smile slowly shifting to a dejected grimace. On one hand, he was relieved that she had gone easy on him. She could have laid down conditions - made him promise to work harder on their relationship, make more time for them, treat her better.

But she didn't do that. In the end, she offered only reconciliation, with no promise of anything more. He smiled to himself as he realized that she just given him a bit of his own medicine. Teresa Keller was a challenging woman. That complexity was just one of many reasons that he knew she was the one.

He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out the small white ring box. He flipped open the lid to gaze at the one-karat diamond in a platinum setting. On an impulse that morning, he had picked it up in the 47
^th
Street Diamond District. Nothing overly fancy and pretentious, but something he knew Teresa would like. Then he snapped the case shut and tucked the box back in his jacket.

“Another time,” he muttered as he pushed himself to his feet.

He checked his phone. He was late for work. Strangely enough, no one had left him any messages over the weekend.

And strangely enough, he didn’t really care.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

A quiet melancholy permeated Templar’s offices. The legal department was silent when Samson Tyler arrived. He limped down the hallway with his jacket flung over his shoulder. People acknowledged him with low, measured greetings. A few looked surprised to see him. Though Tyler himself had not yet heard anything, he suspected that rumors were spreading that his career at Templar was over.

He knew the fallout from what had happened last week would be far more than his personal humiliation. The crash of the
Naiad
, deliberate or not, would cost the company dearly.

As he neared his office, he stopped before his assistant’s desk.

“Good morning, Cindy.” He had been calm all morning, but now his stomach knotted up as he realized that it was time to face the consequences of his actions.

“Welcome back, Samson.” She looked up at him with the same pleasant smile she gave him every business day, though today he could see that today that smile was forced. “How are you feeling?”

“All things considered, pretty well.”

“And your strength?”

“Why do you ask?”

She hefted a thick stack of paper slips. “These are your messages. I've already sorted out the important ones.”

His gut tightened again. “Important ones?”

She shrugged. “Relatively important, but nothing…” She chose her word carefully. “Dramatic.”