[Start at the beginning of the novel: Prologue.]
[Go to the Table of Contents.]
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Now, on with Ship of Fools. In this flashback chapter, Liz continues her research into Himmelstein’s outlandish tale, only to find that something awful has happened.
LIZ AWOKE in her DC hotel, had a bland breakfast in the bland restaurant downstairs, then checked in with the office.
“Liz, thought I’d hear from you yesterday,” Sid said when he came on the line. “I’m hoping you’ve got that color piece in the bag, because the Chinese just released results of their lunar surveys and I want you to get on it right away.”
“Actually, I’m in DC. I’ve got a couple of leads from Himmelstein to track down.”
“You’re not serious.”
“He had some, shall we say, rather creative ideas. Got them from a former astronaut, he says. There’s even physical evidence and I just have to check it out with NASA. I owe it to Himmelstein, Sid, his story deserves a deeper dive. He’s not a crackpot, he just came into possession of these documents and swore to pass them on when the time was right.”
“Oh, when’s that?”
“I’ll tell you when I get back later today or tomorrow at the latest. It’s quite a story. Unbelievable, but quite a story.”
After hanging up with Sid and getting a refill of the restaurant’s weak coffee, she spent some time reaching out to the various labs in New York that would need to examine the one SAG card Himmelstein had let her take, as well as the photos and the sound recording. Then she Googled Herzog, trying to track down where he’d been in the mid-60s. The first thing that jumped out at her was what an unknown he was in 1964. Why would NASA bring in a young German director with one short film to his credit?
While she worked, the Newsy app’s alert sounded on her phone. It was set up to feed her local news wherever she happened to be. This one was about a commuter cyclist killed by a hit-and-run driver. She remembered when that used to be a common occurrence, but self-driving cars had made it a rarity. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so involved with her search, she would have clicked to open the article.
An hour later, she arrived at NASA headquarters, checked through security, then took the elevator to the fifth floor and Kevin’s department. The receptionist who greeted her looked as if he’d been crying.
“I’m here to see Kevin Sloane,” she said, and his face cracked.
“Kevin…I’m sorry…He didn’t make it into work today…”
Suddenly she felt disconnected from her own body, as if she were floating slightly outside of it, feeling nothing at all.
“Why? What happened?”
He tried to gather himself. “Well, I don’t know that I can really tell you. Do you know him well?”
“He’s a source. I know him socially too. I had dinner with him and Marjie once.” That was a stretch. It had been a banquet for 500 people and they happened to be seated near each other. She was surprised she remembered his wife’s name.
“Oh, well then. I’m sorry to have to tell you the news. A car hit him while he was biking to work. He died on the way to the hospital.” He broke down completely and covered his face with a tissue. NASA staffers were poking their heads out of their offices, their faces glum or distressed. She didn’t recognize any of them.
The receptionist had recovered himself a bit. “I’m sorry. Was there anything anyone else can help you with?”
“No, just Kevin. And I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She was turning to leave, trying to calm the fluttery feeling in her stomach, wondering if the gift shop in the lobby would have a scarf she could use to disguise herself, when a tall man in a dark suit appeared at her side.
“I’m Derek Sharp, the head of security. You had an appointment with Mr. Sloane?”
“That’s right, but it’s not important. I don’t want to bother anyone at this terrible time.”
He actually took her arm and guided her toward the elevator. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here, but obviously it’s a tough day.”
“Of course.” Hadn’t she just said that?
The elevator door opened and he guided her in. “Ground floor.” He let go of her arm, but his eyes bored into hers. “What did you want to see him about?”
“I just needed to run down some loose ends for a story I’m doing. Dusty old NASA archives stuff.” She held out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Dare. You might have heard about my book on conspiracy theories? NASA features prominently in quite a few of them, as you know.” He looked at her hand as if she’d just picked up after a dog.
“And you thought Kevin could help you?”
“He’s been a good source for me in the past.”
“What was this story about?”
The elevator doors opened and once more with the guiding, not quite shoving, toward the front entrance, past the model of the shuttle and the EVA suits in their glass cases, the space capsule hanging from the ceiling.
“Just the usual misguided conspiracy theory. I always try to debunk them as thoroughly as I can, which is where Kevin came in.”
They’d reached the doors and he let go of her arm. “I’m sorry no one could help you. Maybe another day.”
He didn’t turn back toward his office, so she pushed her way through the doors, willing herself not to look back to see whether he was watching her, at the same time trying to keep from shaking as she walked.
She headed north for a couple of blocks and found a shady place to sit on a concrete planter in front of the Switzer Office Building, trying to get a grip on herself. She just needed to sit and think. And maybe she should be checking for anyone following her. But how would she do that? She was no spy. The heat and humidity had already reached sauna levels and she stripped off her blazer, remembering why foreign diplomats had considered DC a hardship post before air conditioning. The shaking seemed to have gone away, replaced by a dull lethargy. A response to the surge and ebb of adrenalin, no doubt.
She tried to gather her thoughts. A coincidence, it had to be. Maybe a glitch in the car’s software, or a human driver operating where they shouldn’t be. And even if anyone was left who cared about an old conspiracy — assuming there even had been a conspiracy — it strained credulity that a cabal had survived for sixty years, still capable of leaping into action, up to and including murder, on less than a day’s notice, just to protect those old secrets. And wouldn’t it have been easier to keep whatever Kevin might have found hidden, rather than murder anyone who came looking? It made no sense.
Unless…unless there was something else they didn’t want her to know. Whoever “they” were. Sharp had certainly wanted to get her out of the building quickly.
Listen to her! She couldn’t believe her own train of thought. In a suspense novel, this was the point at which the protagonist realized the conspiracy was real and the stakes were life and death. But this was real life, not pulp fiction. Coincidence was still the likeliest explanation.
She kept telling herself that as she called the police precinct closest to the accident — or “accident.” She couldn’t keep from putting scare quotes around the word.
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What do you think? Did someone hijack a self-driving car and turn it into a murder-bot? Or is it just a random coincidence?
Next up: Chapter 9, “Axes to Grind,” in which Lonnie Ester gets a big surprise.