scoonts.theminotaur-第73节

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tures　without　worrying　that　we　were　promising　or　negating　the　ability　of　the　pilot　to　control　it。　Now；　the　way　it　works　is　pretty　neat。〃
　Jake　allowed　himself　a　small　smile。　All　engineers　think　elegant　solutions　to　technical　problems　are　neat。
　〃There　are　three　puters；〃　Harry　Franks　continued。　〃They　each　sample　the　aircraft's　attitude　and　all　the　other　raw　data…like　air　density；　temperature；　airspeed　and　so　on…forty　times　a　second。　Then　they　see　what　control　input　the　pilot　has　made。　The　pilot's　control　input　merely　tells　the　three　puters　what　the　pilot　wants　the　plane　to　do。　The　puters　then　figure　out　what　control　throws　are　necessary　to　ply　with　the　pilot's　order；　and　they　pare　their　answers。　They　take　a　vote。　Any　two　puters　can　overrule　the　third。　After　the　vote；　the　agreed　electrical　signal　is　seat　to　the　hydraulic　actuators；　which　move　the　controls。　This　little　sequence　takes　place　forty　times　a　second。　You　understand？〃
　〃Yep；　I　think　so。　But　how　does　the　puter　know　how　much　to　move　the　controls？　That's　what　the　pilot　does　in　a　conventional　airplane。〃
　〃Well；　obviously；　the　puter　has　to　be　told。　So　the　data　that　it　uses　is　placed　in　a　Programmable　Read…Only　Memory；　a　PROM。　Since　it's　electrical；　we　call　it　an　E…PROM。　There　are　other　types；　like　UV…PROMS　and…〃
　Jake　halted　him　with　his　hand。　〃So　what　you　guys　did　when　Rita　plained　of　control　sensitivity　was　to　change　the　E…PROMs？〃
　〃Yeah。　Exactly。　They　e　on　chips。　The　data　is　just　fried　into　the　little　beggars。　We　called　AeroTech　and　they　cooked　us　some　more　and　flew　'cm　down。　That's　all　there　was　to　it。〃
　〃But　the　plane　crashed。〃
　〃Yeah；〃　said　Harry　Franks　defensively；　〃but　we　don't　know　yet…〃
　〃Something　went　very　wrong。　We　know　that　much；〃　Jake　Grafton　said。　〃The　plane　went　into　three　inverted　spins。　Rita　was　trying　to　get　it　out　and　succeeded　twice。〃
　〃Maybe　she…〃
　〃Uh…uh。　Nope。　She　knew　exactly　what　she　was　doing。　She　recovered　from　more　inverted　spins　at　Test　Pilot　School　than　you've　even　seen。〃
　The　vice　president　of　AeroTech　had　a　cherubic；　round　face。　The　face　looked　like　it　had　spent　two　days　in　the　tropical　sun　when　he　faced　Jake　an　hour　later　and　said。　〃I　don't　know　how　it　happened；　but　the　data　is　wrong　on　this　chip。〃
　〃How's　that？〃
　He　gestured　futilely。　〃I　mean　we've　run　the　data　three　times；　and　I　don't　know　how　the　heck　it　happened；　but　the　E…PROM　data　on　this　chip　is　just　flat　wrong。　Look　here。〃　He　nipped　open　a　thick　puter　printout　〃See　this　line　here？〃　He　read　off　the　number；　which　was　all　it　was；　a　number。　〃Now　look　here。　This　is　the　data　on　this　chip。〃　His　finger　moved　to　another　puter　printout；　one　Jake　had　just　watched　running　though　the　printer。　Jake　looked。　It　was　a　different　number。
　〃How　could　this　happen？　I　thought　you　people　checked　these　things。〃
　〃We　do　check　the　data。　After　the　chip　is　cooked；　we　check　every　damn　number。　I　don't　know　what…I'm　at　a　loss　what　to　tell　you。〃
　〃This　is　only　one　box；〃　Harry　Franks　said。　〃There　were　three　of　them。　Maybe　this　is　the　only　one　that　was　defective。〃
　〃We'll　never　know；〃　Jake　Grafton　said　slowly；　surveying　the　faces　around　him　and　trying　to　catalogue　their　reactions。　〃The　other　boxes　got　smashed　and　burned。　This　is　the　only　one　left　in　one　piece。〃
　〃I　don't　know　what　to　say；〃　the　AeroTech　executive　said。
　Jake　Grafton　walked　out　of　the　room；　looking　for　a　phone。
　
　Luis　Camacho　listened　to　Admiral　Henry's　voice　on　the　telephone　and　doodled　on　a　legal　pad。　Today　he　was　drawing　houses；　all　with　the　proper　perspective　of　course。　He　had　the　roofline　and　baseline　right；　he　decided。
　〃Okay；　so　AeroTech　sold　you　a　defective　E…PROM　chip。　Or　two　or　three　of　them。　Sue　the　bastards。　What　do　you　need　the　FBI　for？〃
　〃I　had　the　aircraft's　control　data　base　printed　out　from　our　puter。　It's　wrong。　Now；　I　don't　know　if　the　AeroTech　chip　has　this　data　on　it　or　not；　but　the　stuff　in　the　Pentagon　puter　is　wrong。　So　I　got　on　the　phone　to　that　National　Security　Agency　puter　doctor　who　tends　our　stuff；　Kleinberg；　Fred　Kleinberg。　He　played　with　his　top　secret　programs　that　I'm　not　supposed　to　know　jack　about；　and　tells　me　the　last　guy　who　made　a　change　on　that　data　base　was　Harold　Strong。〃
　Camacho　extended　the　lines　of　the　roof；　eaves；　and　base　of　the　house　until　they　met　at　the　perspective　convergence　point。　Of　course；　Albright's　house　had　more　shrubs　around　it；　and　with　the　fence　and　all　you　would　never　see　it　looking　just　like　this。
　〃You　still　there；　Luis？〃
　〃Yeah。　I'm　still　here。〃
　〃I　want　you　and　your　guys　to　look　into　it。〃
　〃You　called　NIS？〃　NIS　was　the　Naval　Investigative　Service。
　〃Nope。　Since　you　are　apparently　the　only　guy　inside　the　beltway　who　knows　what　the　fuck　is　going　on；　I　want　you　to　investigate　this。〃
　〃Investigate　what？〃
　〃This　puter　screw…up；　you　spook　asshole。　A　four…hundred…million…dollar　prototype　airplane　that's　supposed　to　be　black　as　the　ace　of　spades　just　made　a　smoking　hole　in　the　ground　and　the　pilot　is　at　death's　door。　The　data　on　the　puter　chips　that　fly　the　plane　is　wrong。　The　last　guy　who　messed　with　the　data　is　dead；　murdered。　Somebody；　someplace　is　bound　to　have　mitted　a　federal　crime。　Now　get　off　your　fat　ass　and　figure　out　if　the　Minotaur　or　some　other　bastard　is　screwing　with　my　program！　Goddamn；　what　have　I　got　to　do？　Call　the　Director？　Go　see　the　President？　Maybe　I　should　put　an　ad　in　the　Post？〃
　〃I'll　be　over　in　a　little　while。〃
　The　admiral　slammed　the　phone　in　Camacho's　ear。　The　agent　cradled　his　instrument　and　went　to　the　door。　〃Dreyfus？　e　in　here。〃
　
　At　three　o'clock　Eastern　Daylight　Time　that　afternoon　Lloyd　Dreyfus　and　two　other　FBI　agents　boarded　a　plane　at　National　Airport　for　a　flight　to　Detroit；　where　a　man　from　the　local　field　office　would　meet　them。　They　planned　to　drive　straight　to　AeroTech's　headquarters　in　the　suburbs。
　The　agents　were　airborne　somewhere　over　Pennsylvania　when　Toad　Tarkington　arrived　at　the　hospital…at　the　air　force's　Tonopah　facility。　He　stopped　at　the　nurses'　station。　〃How　is　she？〃
　The　nurse　on　duty　had　been　there　yesterday　when　they　brought　Rita　in。　She　was　an　air　force　captain。　She　looked　at　Toad　with　sympathy。　〃No　change；　Lieutenant。　I'm　sorry。〃
　〃The　doctor　around？〃
　〃He's　eating　a　late　lunch。　He'll　be　back　in　a　half　hour　or　so。〃
　〃Can　I　see　her？〃
　〃Sure。〃
　The　ICU　nurse　nodded　and　Toad　pulled　a　chair　over　near　Rita's　bed。　Her　chest　was　still　rising　and　falling　rhythmically；　the　IVs　were　dripping；　the　green　line　on　the　heart　monitor　was　spiking…she　lay　exactly　as　he　had　seen　her　yesterday　and　this　morning　when　he　looked　in。
　The　IV　needles　were　in　her　left　arm；　so　he　picked　up　her　right　hand　and　massaged　it　gently。　In　a　moment　he　wrapped　her　fingers　around　two　of　his。　〃Rita；　this　is　Toad。　If　you　can　hear　me；　squeeze　my　hand　a　little。〃
　The　hand　stayed　limp。
　〃Try　real　hard；　Rita。〃
　Nothing。
　〃Harder。〃
　He　gave　up　finally　and　continued　to　lightly　knead　her　fingers。
　There　was　a　window　there　by　her　bed。　When　he　pulled　the　curtains　back　he　could　see　the　distant　blue　mountains。　Clouds　were　building　over　the　peaks。
　Life　is　not　fair。　Good　things　happen　to　bad　people　and　vice　versa；　almost　as　if　the　goodness　or　badness　of　those　who　bear　the　load　was　not　factored　into　the　equations　for　that　great　puter　in　the　sky。　Toad　stood　facing　out　the　window　and　ruminated　upon　it　Somehow　he　had　survived　this　last　ejection　all　in　one　piece　and　Rita　hadn't。　It　wasn't　because　he　was　a　good　person；　or　because　of　his　pious　rectitude　or　exemplary　morals　or　conspicuous　faith。　He　was　physically　okay　because　he　had　been　lucky；　sort　of。　And　Rita　was　smashed　up　because　her　luck　deserted　her。　Yet　perhaps　the　ejection　had　cost　him　something　more　valuable　than　his　life。
　Your　luck　won't　last　forever；　Tarkington。　The　day　will　e；　Toad…man；　the　day　will　e。　Regardless　of　how　you　live　or　the　promises　you　keep；　on　that　day　to　e　your　luck　will　desert　you。　You　won't　recognize　the　morning；　you　won't　recognize　the　noon；　but　that　will　be　the　day。　And　on　that　day　you'll　lose　her　forever。
　He　slumped　into　the　chair。　Looking　at　Rita　in　her　bandages　was　hard；　looking　at　the　IV　racks；　respirator；　and　heart　monitor　was　harder。　He　twisted；　trying　to　get　fortable。
　Somehow；　someway；　the　E…PROMs　in　the　fly…by…wire　puters　were　screwed　up。　He　had　heard　them　talking　this　afternoon。　How　could　it　happen？　How　could　TRX　and　AeroTech's　checks　and　double　checks　and　Quality　Assurance　programs　all　go　south　at　precisely　the　same　time？
　Someday　hell！　She　might　die　today；　or　tomorrow。　Or　the　day　after。　You　could　lose　her　any　day。
　He　picked　up　her　hand　again　and　massaged　it　slowly　and　gently。　Finally　he　placed　it　carefully　back　on　the　covers。　He　leaned　over　Rita　and　kissed　the　two　square　inches　on　her　forehead　not　covered　with　a　bandage。　〃Hang　tough；　Rita。　Hang　tough。〃
　
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　The　corporate　offices　and　manufacturing　faculties　of　AeroTech　sat　in　a　manicured　industrial　subdivision　of　a　Detroit　suburb　in　a　low；　sprawling；　windowless　building　among　a　dozen　similar　buildings　carefully　arranged　amid　the　lawns　and　pruned　trees。　A　gardener　was　laboring　in　a　flower　bed　as　the　FBI　car　swung　into　the　parking　lot。
　Agent　Lloyd　Dreyfus　decided　that　the　goddess　of　the　post…industrial　revolution　had　e；　conquered；　an