cussler.blueandgold-第36节

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　〃The　plane　that　doesn't　exist。〃
　
　Miller　nodded。　〃A　lot　of　crazy　stuff　went　on　after　Germany　surrendered。　The　cold　war　was　getting　revved　up。　People　were　seeing　mies　under　their　beds。　All　sorts　of　secret　stuff　going　
　on。　The　government　got　even　worse　after　the　Russians　developed　the　bomb。　My　guess　is　that　they　built　your　plane　with　a　mission　in　mind　and　didn't　tell　anyone　about　it。〃　〃What　kind　of　mission？〃　〃I　don't　know；　but　I'd　hazard　a　guess。〃　〃Hazard　for　all　it's　worth；　my　friend。〃
　
　Miller　laughed。　〃The　Northrop　bomber　was　the　original　stealth　plane。　Radar　was　still　paratively　primitive　back　then；　and　it　had　a　hard　time　picking　up　the　slim　silhouette。　In　1948　they　took　a　wing　out　into　the　Pacific　and　flew　back　to　the　main　land　at　five　hundred　miles　per　hour　on　a　direct　line　toward　the　Coastal　mand　radar　at　Half　Moon　Bay；　south　of　San　Francisco。　The　plane　wasn't　detected　by　radar　until　it　was　overhead。〃
　
　〃A　characteristic　like　that　would　e　in　handy　if　you　wanted　to　get　in　and　out　of　hostile　territory。〃
　
　〃That's　my　guess；　but　I　have　no　evidence　to　substantiate　it。〃
　
　〃What　could　have　happened　to　the　plane？〃
　
　〃Even　with　its　low　radar　profile　it　could　have　been　shot　down。　More　likely；　though；　it　was　scrapped　like　the　others　or　crashed　during　a　test　or　a　mission。　They　were　still　working　out　the　bugs　in　the　design。〃
　
　〃Neither　possibility　explains　how　a　piece　of　the　plane　ended　up　in　the　sea　off　Mexico。〃
　
　Miller　shrugged。
　
　〃Maybe　I　can　find　something　in　the　records；〃　Austin　suggested。
　
　〃Good　luck。　Remember　what　I　said　about　crazy　stuff　happening　after　the　war？　After　the　Air　Force　canceled　its　contract　for　the　last　batch　of　wings；　it　went　into　the　plant；　cut　up　all　the　planes　being　built；　and　carted　them　away　as　scrap　metal。　They　refused　the　Smithsonian's　request　for　a　plane　to　put　on　exhibition　and　ordered　all　production　jigs　and　dies　destroyed。　All　the　official　records　on　the　flying　wing　were　'lost；'　supposedly　under　direct　orders　from　Truman。〃
　
　〃That　was　convenient。〃　Austin　stared　at　the　flying　wing　as　if　the　answers　to　the　puzzle　were　locked　in　its　aerodynamic　fuselage；　but　like　the　plane；　his　thoughts　refused　to　get　off　the　ground。　〃Well；　thanks　for　all　your　help；〃　he　said　finally。　〃It　looks　like　a　dead　end。〃
　
　〃Wish　I　could　have　been　of　more　help；〃　Miller　said。　〃I've　got　a　suggestion。　It's　a　long　shot。　A　widow　of　one　of　the　test　pilots　lives　not　far　from　here。　She　showed　up　one　day　looking　for　information　about　her　husband。　He　died　while　they　were　testing　one　of　the　big　wings。　She　was　piling　a　scrapbook　to　pass　on　to　the　kids　and　grandchildren。　We　gave　her　some　pictures；　and　she　was　happy　with　that。　Her　husband　could　have　said　something　to　her。　Maybe　he　didn't　know　about　our　missing　plane；　but　there　are　always　rumors。〃
　
　Austin　glanced　at　his　watch。　He　hadn't　planned　to　be　back　at　his　NUMA　office　until　after　lunch。　〃Thanks　for　the　tip。　I'll　see　if　I　can　track　her　down。〃
　
　They　returned　to　the　visitor　center　and　looked　up　the　woman's　name　and　address。　She　had　made　a　substantial　donation　to　the　center　in　her　husband's　name。　Austin　thanked　Miller　and　headed　south　beyond　the　suburbs　that　ring　Washington　until　the　countryside　began　to　look　more　rural。　The　address　was　a　big　two…story　gingerbread　Victorian　on　a　back　road。　A　car　was　parked　out　front。　Austin　went　up　to　the　front　door　and　rang　the　bell。　An　athletically　built　man　in　his　fifties　answered　the　door。
　
　Kurt　introduced　himself。　〃I'm　looking　for　Mrs。　Phyllis　Mar　tin。　Do　I　have　the　right　house？〃
　
　〃Yes；　this　is　the　Martin　house。　But　I'm　afraid　you've　e　a　little　too　late。　My　mother　passed　away　several　weeks　ago。〃
　
　〃I'm　very　sorry　to　hear　that；〃　Austin　said。　〃Hope　I　haven't　bothered　you。〃
　
　〃Not　at　all。　I'm　her　son；　Buzz　Martin。　I'm　taking　care　of　some　things　around　the　house。　Perhaps　I　can　help　you。〃
　
　〃Possibly。　I'm　with　NUMA；　the　National　Underwater　and　Marine　Agency。　I'm　doing　some　historical　research　on　flying　wings　and　was　hopeful　your　mother　might　like　to　talk　about　your　father。〃
　
　〃Doesn't　NUMA　deal　with　the　ocean　sciences？〃　
　
　　〃That's　right；　but　this　might　have　a　connection　with　NUMA's　work。〃
　
　Buzz　Martin　gave　Austin　a　long　look。　〃It's　no　bother；　really。　I'd　be　happy　to　talk　to　you。　Have　a　seat　on　the　porch　rocker。　I've　been　working　in　the　cellar　and　could　use　some　fresh　air。　I　just　made　a　pot　of　ice　coffee。〃
　
　He　went　inside　and　returned　a　few　minutes　later　with　two　tumblers　that　clinked　with　ice。　They　sat　in　a　couple　of　Adirondack　chairs。　Martin　looked　out　at　the　oak　trees　shading　the　big　lawn。
　
　〃I　grew　up　here。　I　haven't　been　around　much　with　the　demands　of　job　and　family。　I　run　an　air　charter　service　out　of　Baltimore。〃　He　sipped　his　drink。　〃But　enough　about　me。　What　can　I　tell　you　about　my　father？〃
　
　〃Anything　you　can　remember　that　might　help　clear　up　a　mystery　having　to　do　with　the　flying　wing　he　piloted。〃
　
　Martin's　face　lit　up　like　a　streetlight。　He　smacked　his　hands　together。　〃Aha！　I　knew　the　cover…up　would　unravel　one　day。〃
　
　〃Cover…up？〃
　
　〃That's　right；〃　Martin　said　bitterly。　〃This　whole　crummy　deal　with　my　father　and　the　phony　crash。〃
　
　Austin　sensed　that　he'd　learn　more　by　saying　less。　〃Tell　me　what　you　know；〃　he　said。
　
　The　suggestion　was　hardly　necessary。　Martin　had　been　waiting　for　years　for　a　friendly　ear　to　listen　to　his　tale。
　
　〃Excuse　me；〃　he　said　with　a　deep　sigh。　〃This　stuff　has　been　building　up　for　a　long　time。〃　He　stood　and　paced　the　length　of　the　porch。　His　face　was　contorted　by　anguish。　He　took　several　deep　breaths　to　get　his　emotions　in　check。　Then　he　sat　on　the　railing；　arms　folded；　and　began　to　tell　his　story。
　
　〃My　father　died　in　1949。　According　to　my　mother；　he　was　testing　one　of　the　new　flying　wings。　There　were　bugs　in　the　de　sign；　and　they　were　always　tinkering　with　one　thing　or　another。　On　one　flight　the　plane　supposedly　rolled；　he　couldn't　get　it　under　control。　He　died　in　the　crash。　I　was　seven　years　old。〃
　
　〃It　must　have　been　devastating　for　you。〃　
　
　　〃I　was　pretty　young；〃　he　said　with　a　shrug；　〃and　the　whole　thing　was　exciting；　what　with　the　Air　Force　brass　and　the　president　sending　messages。　I　never　saw　my　father　much　anyway。　During　the　war　he　was　away　a　lot。〃　He　paused。　〃Actually；　it　really　hit　me　when　I　discovered　he　wasn't　dead。〃
　
　〃You're　saying　your　father　wasn't　killed　in　a　crash？〃
　
　〃He　looked　quite　healthy　when　I　saw　him　at　Arlington　Cemetery。〃
　
　〃You're　talking　about　seeing　him　in　the　coffin；　you　mean
　
　〃No。　He　was　watching　the　funeral　from　a　distance。〃
　
　Austin　scrutinized　Martin's　face；　not　sure　what　he　was　looking　for。
　
　Detecting　no　sign　of　dementia；　he　said；　〃I'd　like　to　hear　about　it。〃
　
　Martin　broke　out　into　a　broad　grin。　〃I've　been　waiting　more　than　forty　years　to　hear　somebody　say　those　words。〃　He　stared　into　space　as　if　he　could　see　the　scene　playing　out　on　an　invisible　screen。　〃I　still　remember　the　little　things。　It　was　in　the　spring；　and　robins　were　flitting　around。　I　can　recall　the　way　the　sun　reflected　off　the　buttons　on　the　Air　Force　uniforms；　the　smell　of　new…cut　grass　and　earth。　I　was　standing　by　the　casket；　next　to　my　mother；　holding　her　hand；　squirming　in　my　suit　because　it　was　so　hot　and　the　collar　was　tight。　The　minister　was　going　on　and　on　in　this　droning　voice。　Everyone　had　their　eyes　on　him。〃　He　took　a　deep　breath　as　his　memory　drifted　back　in　time。　〃I　saw　a　movement；　a　bird　maybe；　and　looked　beyond　the　crowd。　A　man　had　stepped　away　from　a　tree。　He　was　dressed　in　dark　clothes。　He　was　too　far　away　for　me　to　see　his　face；　but　there　was　no　mistaking　him。　My　father　had　a　funny　way　of　standing　on　one　leg；　kinda　crooked。　Old　football　injury。〃
　
　〃What　was　he　doing？〃
　
　〃Nothing。　He　just　stood　there。　I　knew　he　was　staring　at　me。　Then　he　raised　his　right　arm　a　little；　as　if　he　were　about　to　wave。　Two　men　came　up　beside　him。　They　talked。　It　looked　as　if　they　were　arguing。　Then　they　all　walked　away。　I　tried　to　get　my　mother's　attention；　but　she　shushed　me。〃　
　
　　〃You're　sure　it　wasn't　the　wishful　thinking　of　a　distraught　boy？〃
　
　〃Yes。　I　was　so　certain　that　after　the　funeral　I　told　my　mother　what　I　had　seen。　It　only　made　her　cry。　I'll　never　forget　those　tears。　I　never　brought　it　up　again。　She　was　young　enough　and　re　married。　My　stepfather　was　a　nice　guy。　He　was　successful　in　business；　and　they　had　a　good　life。　They　were　very　happy　for　many　years。〃　He　laughed。　〃I　was　my　father's　kid。　My　mother　tried　to　talk　me　out　of　flying；　but　I　became　a　pilot。　This　thing　has　burned　in　me　all　that　time。　I　made　inquiries　but　never　got　anywhere。　I　was　convinced　the　truth　would　never　e　out。　Then　you　show　up　and　start　asking　questions。〃
　
　〃What　do　you　know　about　your　father's　job？〃
　
　〃He　was　a　veteran　pilot。　He　was　hired　by　Avion　Corporation；　the　pany　Northrop　set　up　to　manufacture　flying　wings；　although　he　was　still　in　the　Air　Force。　Dad　had　several　close　calls。　The　wing　design　was　a　great　concept；　but　with　the　materials　and　the　know…how　at　the　time；　flying　the　prototypes　was　risky　business。　That's　why　nobody　was　surprised　when　his　plane　crashed。〃
　
　〃You　were　very　young；　but　do　you　rememb