dk.solesurvivor-第30节

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ices　emitted　signals　by　which　they　could　be　located；　therefore；　swift　retrieval　from　the　wreckage　had　been　possible　even　in　darkness　and　even　from　the　relative　remoteness　of　the　site。
　　'The　recorders　were　put　on　the　Gulfstream　and　flown　back　to　the　Safety　Board's　labs　in　Washington；'　Barbara　said。　'The　steel　jackets　were　badly　battered；　even　breached；　but　we　were　hopeful　the　data　could　be　extracted。'
　　In　a　caravan　of　four…wheel…drive　vehicles　driven　by　county　emergency…response　personnel；　the　Safety　Board　team　was　conveyed　to　the　crash　site　for　its　initial　survey。　The　secured　perimeter　extended　to　the　gravel　road　that　turned　off　State　Route　115；　and　gathered　along　both　sides　of　the　paved　highway　in　that　vicinity　were　fire　trucks；　black…and…whites；　ambulances；　drab　sedans　from　federal　and　state　agencies；　coroner's　vans；　as　well　as　scores　of　cars　and　pickups　belonging　to　the　genuinely　concerned；　the　curious；　and　the　ghoulish。
　　'It's　always　chaos；'　Barbara　said。　'Lots　of　television　vans　with　satellite　dishes。　Nearly　a　hundred　and　fifty　members　of　the　press。　They　clamoured　for　statements　when　they　saw　us　arrive；　but　we　didn't　have　anything　to　say　yet；　and　we　came　directly　up　here　to　the　site。'
　　Her　voice　trailed　away。　She　shoved　her　hands　into　the　pockets　of　her　jeans。
　　No　wind　was　at　play。　No　bees　moved　among　the　wildflowers。　The　surrounding　woods　were　full　of　motionless　monk　trees　that　had　taken　vows　of　silence。
　　Joe　lowered　his　gaze　from　the　silent　storm　clouds　black　with　throttled　thunder　to　the　crater　where　the　thunder　of　Flight　353　was　now　only　a　memory　held　deep　in　fractured　stone。
　　'I'm　okay；'　he　assured　Barbara；　though　his　voice　was　thick。　'Go　on。　I　need　to　know　what　it　was　like。'
　　After　another　half　minute　of　silence　during　which　she　gathered　her　thoughts　and　decided　how　much　to　tell　him；　Barbara　said；　'When　you　arrive　with　the　Go…Team；　the　first　impression　is　always　the　same。　Always。　The　smell。　You　never　ever　forget　the　stench。　Jet　fuel。　Smouldering　vinyl　and　plastic…even　the　new　blended　thermoplastics　and　the　phenolic　plastics　burn　under　extreme　conditions。　There's　the　stink　of　seared　insulation；　melted　rubber；　and。。。　roasted　flesh；　biological　wastes　from　the　ruptured　lavatory　holding　tanks　and　from　the　bodies。'
　　Joe　forced　himself　to　continue　looking　into　the　pit；　because　he　would　need　to　go　away　from　this　place　with　a　new　strength　that　would　make　it　possible　for　him　to　seek　justice　against　all　odds；　regardless　of　the　power　of　his　adversaries。
　　'Ordinarily；'　Barbara　said；　'in　even　terribly　violent　crashes；　you　see　some　pieces　of　wreckage　large　enough　to　allow　you　to　envision　the　aircraft　as　it　once　was。　A　wing。　The　empennage。　A　long　section　of　fuselage。　Depending　on　the　angle　of　impact；　you　sometimes　even　have　the　nose　and　cockpit　mostly　intact。'
　　'In　the　case　of　Flight　353？'
　　'The　debris　was　so　finely　chopped；　so　gnarled；　so　pacted　that　on　first　look　it　was　impossible　to　see　that　it　had　been　a　plane。　It　seemed　to　us　that　a　huge　portion　of　the　mass　must　be　missing。　But　it　was　all　here　in　the　meadow　and　scattered　some　distance　into　the　trees　uphill；　west　and　north。　All　here。。。　but　for　the　most　part　there　was　nothing　bigger　than　a　car　door。　All　I　saw　that　I　could　identify　at　first　glance　was　a　portion　of　an　engine　and　a　three…unit　passenger…seat　module。'
　　'Was　this　the　worst　crash　in　your　experience？'　Joe　asked。
　　'Never　seen　one　worse。　Only　two　others　to　equal　it…including　the　Pennsylvania　crash　in　ninety…four；　Hopewell；　USAir　Flight　427；　en　route　to　Pittsburgh。　The　one　I　mentioned　earlier。　I　wasn't　the　IIC　on　that　one；　but　I　saw　it。'
　　'The　bodies　here。　How　were　they　when　you　arrived？'
　　'Joe。。。'
　　'You　said　no　one　could　have　survived。　Why　are　you　so　sure？'
　　'You　don't　want　to　know　the　why。'　When　he　met　her　eyes；　she　looked　away　from　him。　'These　are　images　that　haunt　your　sleep；　Joe。　They　wear　away　a　part　of　your　soul。'
　　'The　bodies？'　he　insisted。
　　With　both　hands；　she　pressed　her　white　hair　back　from　her　face。　She　shook　her　head。　She　put　her　hands　in　her　pockets　again。
　　Joe　drew　a　deep　breath；　exhaled　with　a　shudder；　and　repeated　his　question。　'The　bodies？　I　need　to　know　everything　I　can　learn。　Any　detail　about　this　might　be　helpful。　And　even　if　this　isn't　much　help　。　。　。　it'll　keep　my　anger　high。　Right　now；　Barbara；　I　need　the　anger　to　be　able　to　go　on。'
　　'No　bodies　intact。'
　　'None　at　all？'
　　'None　even　close　to　intact。'
　　'How　many　of　the　three　hundred　and　twenty　were　the　pathologists　finally　able　to　identify　。　。　。　to　find　at　least　a　few　teeth　from；　body　parts；　something；　anything；　to　tell　who　they　were？'
　　Her　voice　was　flat；　studiedly　emotionless；　but　almost　a　whisper。　'I　think　slightly　more　than　a　hundred。'
　　'Broken；　severed；　mangled；'　he　said；　hammering　himself　with　the　hard　words。
　　'Far　worse。　All　that　immense　hurtling　energy　released　in　an　instant。　。　。　you　don't　even　recognize　most　of　the　biological　debris　as　being　human。　The　risk　of　infectious　disease　was　high　from　blood　and　tissue　contamination；　so　we　had　to　pull　out　and　revisit　the　site　only　in　biologically　secure　gear。　Every　piece　of　wreckage　had　to　be　carted　away　and　documented　by　the　structural　specialists；　of　course
　　…　so　to　protect　them　we　had　to　set　up　four　decontamination　stations　out　along　the　gravel　road。　Most　of　the　wreckage　had　to　be　processed　there　before　it　moved　on　to　a　hangar　at　Pueblo　Airport。'
　　Being　brutal　to　prove　to　himself　that　his　anguish　would　never　again　get　the　better　of　his　anger　until　this　quest　was　pleted；　Joe　said；　'It　was　pretty　much　like　putting　them　through　one　of　those　tree…grinding　machines。'
　　'Enough；　Joe。　Knowing　more　details　can't　ever　help　you。'
　　The　meadow　was　so　utterly　soundless　that　it　might　have　been　the　ignition　point　of　all　Creation；　from　which　God's　energies　had　long　ago　flowed　toward　the　farthest　ends　of　the　universe；　leaving　only　a　mute　vacuum。
　　
　　A　few　fat　bees；　enervated　by　the　August　heat　that　was　unable　to　penetrate　Joe's　chill；　forsook　their　usual　darting　urgency　and　travelled　languidly　across　the　meadow　from　wildflower　to　wildflower；　as　though　flying　in　their　sleep　and　acting　out　a　shared　dream　about　collecting　nectar。　He　could　hear　no　buzzing　as　the　torpid　gatherers　went　about　their　work。
　　'And　the　cause；'　he　asked；　'was　hydraulic…control　failure…that　stuff　with　the　rudder；　the　yawing　and　then　the　roll？'
　　'You　really　haven't　read　about　it；　have　you？'
　　'Couldn't。'
　　She　said；　'The　possibility　of　a　bomb；　anomalous　weather；　the　wake　vortex　from　another　aircraft；　and　various　other　factors　were　eliminated　pretty　early。　And　the　structures　group；　twenty…nine　specialists　in　that　division　of　the　investigation　alone；　studied　the　wreckage　in　the　hangar　in　Pueblo　for　eight　months　without　being　able　to　pin　down　a　probable　cause。　They　suspected　lots　of　different　things　at　one　time　or　another。　Malfunctioning　yaw　dampers；　for　one。　Or　an　electronics…bay　door　failure。　Engine　mount　failure　looked　good　to　them　for　a　while。　And　malfunctioning　thrust　reversers。　But　they　eliminated　each　suspicion；　and　no　official　probable　cause　was　found。'
　　'How　unusual　is　that？'
　　'Unusual。　But　sometimes　we　can't　pin　it　down。　Like　Hopewell　in　ninety…four。　And；　in　fact；　another　737　that　went　down　on　its　approach　to　Colorado　Springs　in　ninety…one；　killing　everyone　aboard。　So　it　happens；　we　get　stumped。'
　　Joe　realized　there　had　been　a　disturbing　qualifier　in　what　she　had　said：　no　official　probable　cause。
　　Then　a　second　realization　struck　him：　'You　took　early　retirement　from　the　Safety　Board　about　seven　months　ago。　That's　what　Mario　Oliveri　told　me。'
　　'Mario。　Good　man。　He　headed　the　human…performance　group　in　this　investigation。　But　it's　been　almost　nine　months　since　I　quit。'
　　'If　the　structures　group　was　still　sifting　the　wreckage　eight　months　after　the　crash　。　。　。　then　you　didn't　stay　to　oversee　the　entire　inquiry；　even　though　you　were　the　original　IIC　on　it。'
　　'Bailed　out；'　she　acknowledged。　'When　it　all　turned　sour；　when　evidence　disappeared；　when　I　started　to　make　some　noise　about　it。。。　they　put　the　squeeze　on　me。　At　first　I　tried　to　stay　on；　but　I　just　couldn't　handle　being　part　of　a　fraud。　Couldn't　do　the　right　thing　and　spill　the　beans；　either；　so　I　bailed。　Not　proud　of　it。　But　I've　got　a　hostage　to　fortune；　Joe。'
　　'Hostage　to　fortune。　A　child？'
　　'Denny。　He's　twenty…three　now；　not　a　baby　any　more；　but　if　I　ever　lost　him。。。
　　Joe　knew　too　well　how　she　would　have　finished　that　sentence。　'They　threatened　your　son？'
　　Although　Barbara　stared　into　the　crater　before　her；　she　was　seeing　a　potential　disaster　rather　than　the　aftermath　of　a　real　one；　a　personal　catastrophe　rather　than　one　involving　three　hundred　and　twenty　deaths。
　　'It　happened　two　weeks　after　the　crash；'　she　said。　'I　was　in　San　Francisco；　where　Deiroy　Blane…the　Captain　on　Flight　353…had　lived；　overseeing　a　pretty　intense　investigation　into　his　personal　history；　trying　to　discover　any　signs　of　psychological　problems。'
　　'Finding　anything？'
　　'No。　He　seemed　like　a　rock…solid　guy。　This　was　also　at　the　time　when　I　was　pressing　the　hardest　to　go　public　with　what　had　happened　to　certain　evidence。　I　was　st