“Okay.”
“This is no time to take chances.”
“I understand.”
“Now.” He shifted in his chair. “What’s this about a reporter?”
“Jack Rogers is working on a story that might turn ugly,” Casey said. “Union allegations we’re sending the wing offshore. Leaked documents that allegedly say we’re offsetting the wing. And he’s relating the leaks to, ah, friction in the executive suite.”
“Friction?” Marder said. “What friction?”
“He’s been told that you and Edgarton are at loggerheads. He asked if I thought management conflicts would affect the sale.”
“Oh, Christ,” Marder said. He sounded annoyed. “That’s ridiculous. I’m behind Hal one hundred percent on this. It’s essential for the company. And nobody’s leaked anything. What did you tell him?”
“I stalled him,” Casey said. “But if we want to kill the story, we have to give him something better. An interview with Edgarton, or an exclusive on the China sale. It’s the only way to do it.”
“That’s fine,” Marder said. “But Hal won’t do any press. I can ask him, but I know he won’t do it.”
“Well, somebody needs to,” Casey said. “Maybe you should.”
“That could be difficult,” Marder said. “Hal has instructed me to avoid the media until the sale is finalized. I have to be careful here. Is this guy trustworthy?”
“In my experience, yes.”
“If I give him something on deep background, he’ll cover me?”
“Sure. He just needs something to file.”
“All right. Then I’ll talk to him.” Marder scribbled a note. “Was there anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
She turned to leave.
“By the way, how’s Richman working out?”
“Fine,” she said. “He’s just inexperienced.”
“He seems bright,” Marder said. “Use him. Give him something to do.”
“All right,” Casey said.
“That was the problem with Marketing. They didn’t give him anything to do.”
“Okay,” she said.
Marder stood. “See you tomorrow at the IRT.”
After Casey had gone, a side door opened. Richman walked in.
“You dumb fuck,” Marder said. “She almost got hurt in 64 this afternoon. Where the hell were you?’
“Well, I was—”
“Get this straight,” Marder said. “I don’t want anything to happen to Singleton, you understand me? We need her in one piece. She can’t do this job from a hospital bed”
“Got it, John.”
“You better, pal. I want you next to her at all times, until we finish this thing.”
QA
6:20 p.m.
She went back down to her fourth floor offices. Norma was still at her desk, a cigarette dangling from her lip. “You got another stack on your desk, waiting for you.”
“Okay.”
“Richman’s gone home for the day.”
“Okay.”
“He seemed eager to leave, anyway. But I talked to Evelyn in Accounting.”
“And?”
“Richman’s travel at Marketing was billed to customer services in the program office. That’s a slush fund they use for baksheesh. And the kid spent a fortune.”
“How much?”
“Are you ready? Two hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars.”
“Wow,” Casey said. “In three months?’
“Right.”
“That’s a lot of ski trips,” Casey said. “How were the charges billed?”
“Entertainment. Customer not specified.”
“Then who approved the charges?”
“It’s a production account,” Norma said. “Which means it’s controlled by Marder.”
“Marder approved these charges?”
“Apparently. Evelyn’s checking for me. I’ll get more later.” Norma shuffled papers on her desk. “Not much else here … FAA’s going to be late with the transcript of the CVR. There’s a lot of Chinese spoken, and their translators are fighting about the meaning. The carrier’s also doing their own translation, so…”
Casey sighed. “What else is new,” she said. In incidents like this one, the cockpit voice recorders were sent to the FAA, which generated a written transcript of the cockpit conversation, since the pilots’ voices were owned by the carrier. But disputes over the translation were the rule on foreign flights. It always happened.
“Did Allison call?”
“No, honey. The only personal call you got was from Teddy Rawley.”
Casey sighed. “Never mind.”
“That’d be my advice,” Norma said.
In her office, she thumbed through the files on her desk. Most of it was paper on Transpacific 545. The first sheet summarized the stack that followed:
FAA form 8020-9, accident/incident preliminary notice
FAA form 8020-6, report of aircraft accident
FAA form 8020-6-1, report of aircraft accident (continuation)
FAA form 7230-10, position Loos
honolulu ARINC
Los angeles ARTCC
southern california ATAC
automatic sign-in/sign-off log
southern california ATAC
FAA form 7230-4, daily record of facility operation
Los angeles ARTCC
southern california ATAC
FAA form 7230-8, flight progress strip
Los angeles ARTCC
southern california ATAC
flight plan, ICAO
She saw a dozen pages of flight path charts; transcriptions of air traffic control voice recordings; and more weather reports. Next was material from Norton, including a sheaf of fault record data—so far the only hard data they had to work with.
She decided to take it home. She was tired; she could look at it at home.
GLENDALE
10:45 p.m.
He sat up in bed abruptly, turned, put his feet on the floor. “So. Listen babe,” he said, not looking at her.
She stared at the muscles of his bare back. The ridge of his spine. The strong lines of his shoulders.
“This was great,” he said. “It’s great to see you.”
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“But you know, big day tomorrow.”
She would have preferred he stay. The truth was, she felt better having him here at night. But she knew he was going to go. He always did. She said, “I understand. It’s okay, Teddy.”
That made him turn back to her. He gave her his charming, crooked smile. “You’re the best, Casey.” He bent over and kissed her, a long kiss. She knew this was because she wasn’t begging him to stay. She kissed him back, smelling the faint odor of beer. She ran her hand around his neck, caressing the fine hairs.
Almost immediately, he pulled away again. “So. Anyway. Hate to run.”
“Sure, Teddy.”
“By the way,” Teddy said, “I hear you toured the gardens, between shifts …”
“Yeah, I did.”
“You don’t want to piss off the wrong people.”
“I know.”
He grinned. “I’m sure you do.” He kissed her cheek, then bent over, reaching for his socks. “So, anyway, I probably should be heading out…”
“Sure, Teddy,” she said. “You want coffee, before you go?”
He was pulling on his cowboy boots. “Uh, no, babe. This was great. Great to see you.”
Not wanting to be left alone in the bed, she got up, too. She put on a big T-shirt, walked him to the door, kissed him briefly as he left. He touched her nose, grinned. “Great,” he said.
“Good night, Teddy,” she said.
She locked the door, set the alarm.
Walking back through the house, she turned off the stereo, glanced around to see if he had left anything. Other men usually left something behind, because they wanted a reason to come back. Teddy never did. All trace of his presence was gone. There was only the unfinished beer on the kitchen table. She threw it in the trash, wiped away the ring of moisture.
She had been telling herself for months to end it (End what? End what? a voice said), but she somehow never got around to saying the words. She was so busy at work, it was such an effort to meet people. Six months earlier she had gone with Eileen, Marder’s assistant, to a country-and-western bar in Studio City. The place was frequented by young movie people, Disney animators—a fun crowd, Eileen said. Casey found it agonizing. She wasn’t beautiful, and she wasn’t young; she didn’t have the effortless glamour of the girls that glided through the room in tight jeans and crop tops.
The men were all too young for her, their smooth faces unformed. And she couldn’t make small talk with them. She felt herself too serious for this setting. She had a job, a child, she was looking at forty. She never went out with Eileen again.
It wasn’t that she had no interest in meeting someone. But it was just so difficult. There was never enough time, never enough energy. In the end, she didn’t bother.
So when Teddy would call, say he was in the neighborhood, she’d go unlock the door for him, and get in the shower. Get ready.
That was how it had been for a year, now.
She made tea, and got back in bed. She propped herself up against the headboard, reached for the stack of papers, and began to review the records from the fault data recorders. She started to thumb through the printout:
A/S PWR TEST 00000010000
AIL SERVO COMP 00001001000
AOA INV 10200010001
CFDS SENS FAIL 00000010000
CRZ CMD MON 10000020100
EL SERVO COMP 00000000010
EPR/N1 TRA- 00000010000
FMS SPEED INV 00000040000
PRESS ALT INV 00000030000
G/S SPEED ANG 00000010000
SLAT XSIT T/O 00000000000
G/S DEV INV 00100050001
GND SPD INV 00000021000
TAS INV 00001010000
TAT INV 00000010000
AUX 1 00000000000
AUX 2 00000000000