dk.solesurvivor-第33节

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　　He　couldn't　argue　with　Barbara's　assessment。　She　probably　had　it　figured　right。
　　
　　In　a　sky　waiting　to　snarl　and　crackle；　menacing　faces　formed　in　the　clouds；　blind　and　open…mouthed；　choked　with　anger。
　　Taking　her　first　fateful　step　toward　revelation；　Barbara　said；　'The　flight…data　recorder　and　the　cockpit　voice　recorder　arrived　in　Washington　on　the　Gulfstream　and　were　in　the　labs　by　three　o'clock　Eastern　time　the　day　after　the　crash。'
　　'You　were　still　just　getting　into　the　investigation　here。'
　　'That's　right。　Mirth　Tran…he's　an　electronics　engineer　with　the　Safety　Board…and　a　few　colleagues　opened　the　Fairchild　recorder。　it's　almost　as　large　as　a　shoe　box；　jacketed　in　three…eighths　of　an　inch　of　stainless　steel。　They　cut　it　carefully；　with　a　special　saw。
　　This　particular　unit　had　endured　such　violent　impact　that　it　was　pressed　four　inches　end　to　end…the　steel　just　crunched　up　like　cardboard…and　one　corner　had　been　crushed；　resulting　in　a　small　breach。'
　　'And　it　still　functioned？'
　　'No。　The　recorder　was　pletely　destroyed。　But　inside　the　larger　box　is　the　steel　memory　module。　It　contains　the　tape。　It　was　also　breached。　A　small　amount　of　moisture　had　penetrated　all　the　way　into　the　memory　module；　but　the　tape　wasn't　entirely　ruined。　It　had　to　be　dried；　processed；　but　that　didn't　take　long；　and　then　Mirth　and　a　few　others　gathered　in　a　soundproof　listening　room　to　run　it　from　the　beginning。　There　were　almost　three　hours　of　cockpit　conversation　leading　up　to　the　crash…'
　　Joe　said；　'They　don't　just　run　it　fast　forward　to　the　last　few　minutes？'
　　'No。　Something　earlier　in　the　flight；　something　that　seemed　to　be　of　no　importance　to　the　pilots　at　the　time；　might　provide　clues　that　help　us　understand　what　we're　hearing　in　the　moments　immediately　before　the　plane　went　down。'
　　Steadily　rising；　the　warm　wind　was　brisk　enough　now　to　foil　the　lethargic　bees　on　their　lazy　quest　from　bloom　to　bloom。　Surrendering　the　field　to　the　oning　storm；　they　departed　for　secret　nests　in　the　woods。
　　'Sometimes　we　get　a　cockpit　tape　that's　all　but　useless　to　us；'　Barbara　continued。　'The　recording　quality's　lousy　for　one　reason　or　another。　Maybe　the　tape's　old　and　abraded。　Maybe　the　microphone　is　the　hand…held　type　or　isn't　functioning　as　well　as　it　should；　too　much　vibration。　Maybe　the　recording　head　is　worn　and　causing　distortion。'
　　'I　would　think　there'd　be　daily　maintenance；　weekly　replacement；　when　it's　something　as　important　as　this。'
　　'Remember；　as　a　percentage　of　flights；　planes　rarely　go　down。　There　are　costs　and　flight…time　delays　to　be　considered。　Anyway；　mercial　aviation　is　a　human　enterprise；　Joe。　And　what　human　enterprise　ever　operates　to　ideal　standards？'
　　'Point　taken。'
　　'This　time　there　was　good　and　bad；'　she　said。　'Both　Delroy　Blane　and　Santorelli　were　wearing　headsets　with　boom　microphones；　which　is　real　damn　good；　much　better　than　a　hand…held。　Those　along　with　the　overhead　cockpit　mike　gave　us　three　channels　to　study。　On　the　bad　side；　the　tape　wasn't　new。　It　had　been　recorded　over　a　lot　of　times　and　was　more　deteriorated　than　we　would　have　liked。　Worse；　whatever　the　nature　of　the　moisture　that　reached　the　tape；　it　had　caused　some　patchy　corrosion　to　the　recording　surface。'
　　From　a　back　pocket　of　her　jeans；　she　took　a　folded　paper　but　didn't　immediately　hand　it　to　Joe。
　　She　said；　'When　Mirth　Tran　and　the　others　listened；　they　found　that　some　portions　of　the　tape　were　clearly　audible　and　others　were　so　full　of　scratchy　static；　so　garbled；　they　could　only　discern　one　out　of　four　or　five　words。'
　　'What　about　the　last　minute？'
　　'That　was　one　of　the　worst　segments。　It　was　decided　that　the　tape　would　have　to　be　cleaned　and　rehabilitated。　Then　the　recording　would　be　electronically　enhanced　to　whatever　extent　possible。　Bruce　Laceroth；　head　of　the　Major　Investigations　Division；　had　been　there　to　listen　to　the　whole　tape；　and　he　called　me　in　Pueblo；　at　a　quarter　past　seven；　Eastern　time；　to　tell　me　the　status　of　the　recording。　They　were　stowing　it　for　the　night；　going　to　start　work　with　it　again　in　the　morning。　It　was　depressing。'
　　High　above　them；　the　eagle　returned　from　the　east；　pale　against　the　pregnant　bellies　of　the　clouds；　still　flying　straight　and　true　with　the　weight　of　the　pending　storm　on　its　wings。
　　'Of　course　that　whole　day　had　been　depressing；'　Barbara　said。　'We'd　brought　in　refrigerated　trucks　from　Denver　to　collect　all　the　human　remains　from　the　site；　which　had　to　be　pleted　before　we　could　begin　to　deal　with　the　pieces　of　the　plane　itself。　There　was　the　usual　organizational　meeting；　which　is　always　exhausting；　because　so　many　interest　groups…the　airline；　the　manufacturer　of　the　plane；　the　supplier　of　the　powerplants；　the　Airline　Pilots'　Association；　lots　of　others…all　want　to　bend　the　proceedings　to　serve　their　interests　as　much　as　possible。　Human　nature…and　not　the　prettier　part　of　it。　So　you　have　to　be　reasonably　diplomatic　but　also　damn　tough　to　keep　the　process　truly　impartial。'
　　'And　there　was　the　media；'　he　said；　condemning　his　own　kind　so　she　wouldn't　have　to　do　it。
　　'Everywhere。　Anyway；　I'd　only　slept　less　than　three　hours　the　previous　night；　before　I'd　been　awakened　by　the　Go…Team　call；　and　there　was　no　chance　even　to　doze　on　the　Gulfstream　from　National　to　Pueblo。　I　was　like　the　walking　dead　when　I　hit　the　sheets　a　little　before　midnight…but　back　there　in　Washington；　Mirth　Tran　was　still　at　it。'
　　'The　electronics　engineer　who　cut　open　the　recorder？'
　　Staring　at　the　folded　white　paper　that　she　had　taken　from　her　hip　pocket；　turning　it　over　and　over　in　her　hands；　Barbara　said；　'You　have　to　understand　about　Mirth。　His　family　were　Vietnamese　boat　people。　Survived　the　munists　after　the　fall　of　Saigon　and　then　pirates　at　sea；　even　a　typhoon。　He　was　ten　at　the　time；　so　he　knew　early　that　life　was　a　struggle。　To　survive　and　prosper；　he　expected　to　give　a　hundred　and　ten　percent。'
　　'I　have　friends　。　。　。　had　friends　who　were　Vietnamese　immigrants；'　Joe　said。　'Quite　a　culture。　A　lot　of　them　have　a　work　ethic　that　would　break　a　plough　horse。'
　　'Exactly。　When　everyone　else　went　home　from　the　labs　that　night　at　a　quarter　past　seven；　they'd　put　in　a　long　day。　People　at　the　Safety　Board　are　pretty　dedicated。　。　。　but　Mirth　more　so。　He　didn't　leave。　He　made　a　dinner　of　whatever　he　could　get　out　of　the　vending　machines；　and　he　stayed　to　clean　the　tape　and　then　to　work　on　the　last　minute　of　it。　Digitise　the　sound；　load　it　in　a　puter；　and　then　try　to　separate　the　static　and　other　extraneous　noises　from　the　voices　of　the　pilots　and　from　the　actual　sounds　that　occurred　aboard　the　aircraft。　The　layers　of　static　proved　to　be　so　specifically　patterned　that　the　puter　was　able　to　help　strip　them　away　fairly　quickly。　Because　the　boom　mikes　had　delivered　strong　signals　to　the　recorder；　Mirth　was　able　to　clarify　the　pilots'　voices　under　the　junk　noise。　What　he　heard　was　extraordinary。　Bizarre。'
　　She　handed　the　folded　white　paper　to　Joe。
　　He　accepted　but　didn't　open　it。　He　was　half　afraid　to　see　what　it　contained。
　　'At　ten　minutes　till　four　in　the　morning　Washington　time；　ten　till　two　in　Pueblo；　Mirth　called　me；'　Barbara　said。　'I'd　told　the　hotel　operator　to　hold　all　calls；　I　needed　my　sleep；　but　Mirth　talked　his　way　through。　He　played　the　tape　for　me。　。　。　and　we　discussed　it。　I　always　have　a　cassette　recorder　with　me；　because　I　like　to　tape　all　meetings　myself　and　have　my　own　transcripts　prepared。　So　I　got　my　machine　and　held　it　to　the　phone　to　make　my　own　copy。　I　didn't　want　to　wait　until　Mirth　got　a　clean　tape　to　me　by　courier。　After　Mirth　hung　up；　I　sat　at　the　desk　in　my　room　and　listened　to　the　last　exchanges　between　the　pilots　maybe　ten　or　twelve　times。　Then　I　got　out　my　notebook　and　made　a　handwritten　transcript　of　it；　because　sometimes　things　appear　different　to　you　when　you　read　them　than　when　you　listen。　Occasionally　the　eye　sees　nuances　that　the　ear　misses。'
　　Joe　now　knew　what　he　held　in　his　hand。　He　could　tell　by　the　thickness　that　there　were　three　sheets　of　paper。
　　Barbara　said；　'Mirth　had　called　me　first。　He　intended　to　call　Bruce　Laceroth；　then　the　Chairman　and　the　Vice　Chairman　of　the　Board
　　…　if　not　all　five　board　members…so　each　of　them　could　hear　the　tape　himself。　It　wasn't　standard　protocol；　but　this　was　a　strange　and　unprecedented　situation。　I'm　sure　Mirth　got　to　at　least　one　of　those　people…though　they　all　deny　hearing　from　him。　We'll　never　know　for　sure；　because　Mirth　Tran　died　in　a　fire　at　the　labs　shortly　before　six　o'clock　that　same　morning；　approximately　two　hours　after　he　called　me　in　Pueblo。'
　　'Jesus。'
　　'A　very　intense　fire。　An　impossibly　intense　fire。'
　　
　　Surveying　the　trees　that　surrounded　the　meadow；　Joe　expected　to　see　the　pale　faces　of　watchers　in　the　deep　shadows　of　the　woods。　When　he　and　Barbara　had　first　arrived；　the　site　had　struck　him　as　remote；　but　now　he　felt　as　exposed　arid　vulnerable　as　if　he　had　been　standing　in　the　middle　of　any　intersection　in　L。A。
　　He　said；　'Let　me　guess…the　original　tape　from　the　cockpit　recorder　was　destroyed　in　the　lab　fire。'
　　'Supposedly　burned　to　powder；　vanished；　no　trace；　gone；　goodbye；'　Barbara　said。
　　'What　about　the　puter　that　was