Code to Zero

by Ken Follett

  "Yes, and so would you. In the war, we both put lives at risk, our own and other people's, because it was right."

  "I don't think we lied to one another, let alone shot at one another."

  "We would have, if necessary."

  "I don't think so."

  "Listen. If I don't kill you now, you'll try to stop me escaping--won't you?"

  Luke was scared, but he angrily told the truth. "Hell, yes."

  "Even though you know that if I'm caught, I'll finish up in the electric chair."

  "I guess so . . . yes."

  "So you're willing to kill your friend too."

  Luke was taken aback. Surely he could not be classified with Anthony? "I might bring you to justice. That's not murder."

  "I'd be just as dead, though."

  Luke nodded slowly. "I guess you would."

  Anthony raised the gun with a steady hand, aiming at Luke's heart.

  Luke dropped behind the steel table.

  The silenced gun coughed, and there was a metallic clang as the bullet hit the top of the table. It was cheap furniture, and the steel of which it was made was thin, but it had been enough to deflect the shot.

  Luke rolled under the table. He guessed Anthony was now running across the room, trying to get another shot at him. He raised himself so that his back was against the underside of the table. Grabbing the two legs at one end of the table, he heaved, standing upright at the same time. The table came up off the floor and teetered forward. As it toppled, Luke blindly ran with it, hoping to collide with Anthony. The table crashed to the floor.

  But Anthony was not beneath it.

  Luke tripped and tumbled onto the inverted table. He fell on his hands and knees, and banged his head on a steel leg. He rolled sideways and came up into a sitting position, hurt and dazed. He looked up to see Anthony facing him, framed by the doorway that led into the lab, braced with his feet apart, aiming his gun two-handed. He had dodged Luke's clumsy charge and got behind him. Luke was now, literally, a sitting target, and the end of his life was a second away.

  Then a voice rang out, "Anthony! Stop!"

  It was Billie.

  Anthony froze, gun pointed at Luke. Luke slowly turned his head and looked behind him. Billie stood by the door, her sweater a flash of red against the army-green wall. Her red lips were set in a determined line. She held an automatic pistol in a steady hand, leveled at Anthony. Behind her was a middle-aged Negro woman, looking shocked and scared.

  "Drop the gun!" Billie yelled.

  Luke half expected Anthony to shoot him anyway. If he was a truly dedicated communist, he might be willing to sacrifice his life. But that would achieve nothing, for Billie would still have the blueprints, and they told the whole story.

  Slowly, Anthony lowered his arms, but he did not drop the gun.

  "Drop it, or I'll shoot!"

  Anthony gave his twisted smile again. "No, you won't," he said. "Not in cold blood." Still pointing the gun at the floor, he began to walk backward, making for the open door that led into the laboratory. Luke remembered noticing a door there that looked as if it led to the outside.

  "Stop!" Billie cried.

  "You don't believe that a rocket is worth more than a human life, even if it's a traitor's life," Anthony said, continuing to walk backward. He was now two steps from the door.

  "Don't test me!" she cried.

  Luke stared at her, not knowing whether she would shoot or not.

  Anthony turned and darted through the doorway.

  Billie did not shoot.

  Anthony leaped over a lab bench, then threw himself at a double door. It burst open, and he disappeared into the night.

  Luke leaped to his feet. Billie came toward him with her arms wide. He looked at the clock on the wall. It said 10:29. He had a minute left to warn Cape Canaveral.

  He turned away from Billie and picked up the phone.

  10.29 P.M.

  The scientific instruments onboard the satellite have been designed to withstand takeoff pressure of more than 100 gravities.

  When the phone was picked up in the blockhouse, Luke said, "This is Luke, give me the launch conductor."

  "Right now he's--"

  "I know what he's doing! Put him on, quick!"

  There was a pause. In the background, Luke could hear the countdown: "Twenty, nineteen, eighteen--"

  A new voice came on the line, tense and impatient. "This is Willy--what the hell is it?"

  "Someone has the self-destruct code."

  "Shit! Who?"

  "I'm pretty sure it's a spy. They're going to blow up the rocket. You have to abort the launch."

  The background voice said, "Eleven, ten--"

  "How do you know?" Willy asked.

  "I've found diagrams of the wiring of the coded plugs, and an envelope addressed to someone called Theo Packman."

  "That's not proof. I can't cancel the launch on such a flimsy basis."

  Luke sighed, feeling suddenly fatalistic. "Oh, Christ, what can I say? I've told you what I know. The decision is yours."

  "Five, four--"

  "Hell!" Willy raised his voice. "Stop the countdown!"

  Luke slumped in his chair. He had done it. He glanced up at the anxious faces of Billie and Marigold. "They've aborted the launch," he said.

  Billie lifted the hem of her sweater and stuffed the pistol into the waistband of her ski pants.

  "Well," said Marigold, somewhat lost for words. "Well, I declare."

  Over the phone, Luke heard a buzz of angry questions in the blockhouse. A new voice came on the line. "Luke? This is Colonel Hide. What the hell is going on?"

  "I've discovered what made me take off for Washington in such a hurry on Monday. Do you know who Theo Packman is?"

  "Uh, yeah, I think he's a freelance journalist on the missile beat, writes for a couple of European newspapers."

  "I found an envelope addressed to him containing blueprints of the Explorer's self-destruct system, including a sketch of the wiring of the coded plugs."

  "Jesus! Anyone who had that information could blow up the rocket in mid-air!"

  "That's why I persuaded Willy to abort the launch."

  "Thank God you did."

  "Listen, you have to find this Packman character right now. The envelope was addressed to the Vanguard Motel, you may find him there."

  "Got it."

  "Packman was working with someone in the CIA, a double agent called Anthony Carroll. He's the one who intercepted me in Washington before I could get to the Pentagon with the information."

  "I talked to him!" Hide sounded incredulous.

  "I'm sure of it."

  "I'll call the CIA and tell them."

  "Good." Luke hung up. He had done all he could.

  Billie said, "What next?"

  "I guess I'll go to Cape Canaveral. The launch will be rescheduled for the same time tomorrow. I'd like to be there."

  "Me, too."

  Luke smiled. "You deserve it. You saved the rocket." He stood up and embraced her.

  "Your life, you goop. To heck with the rocket, I saved your life." She kissed him.

  Marigold coughed. "You've missed the last plane from Huntsville Airport," she said in a businesslike tone.

  Luke and Billie separated reluctantly.

  "Next one is a MATS flight that leaves from the base at five-thirty A.M.," Marigold went on. "Or there's a train on the Southern Railway System you could catch. It runs from Cincinnati to Jacksonville and stops in Chattanooga around one A.M. You could get to Chattanooga in a couple of hours in that nice new car of yours."

  Billie said, "I like the train idea."

  Luke nodded."Okay." He looked at the upturned table. "Someone's going to have to talk to Army security about these bullet holes."

  Marigold said, "I'll do it in the morning. You don't want to be waiting around here answering questions."

  They went outside. Luke's car and Billie's rental were in the parking lot. Anthony's car had gone.
r />   Billie embraced Marigold. "Thank you," she said. "You were wonderful."

  Marigold was embarrassed, and turned practical again. "You want me to return your rental to Hertz?"

  "Thank you."

  "Off you go, leave everything to me."

  Billie and Luke got into his Chrysler and drove away.

  When they were on the highway, Billie said, "There's a question we haven't talked about."

  "I know," Luke said. "Who sent the blueprints to Theo Packman?"

  "It must be someone inside Cape Canaveral, someone on the scientific team."

  "Exactly."

  "Do you have any idea who?"

  Luke winced. "Yes."

  "Why didn't you tell Hide?"

  "Because I don't have any evidence, or even much of a reason, for my suspicions. It's just instinct. But, all the same, I'm sure."

  "Who?"

  With a heart full of grief, Luke said, "I think it's Elspeth."

  11 P.M.

  The telemetry encoder uses hysteresis loop core materials to establish a series of input parameters from satellite instruments.

  Elspeth could not believe it. Just a few seconds before ignition, the launch had been postponed. She had been so close to success. The triumph of her life had been within her grasp--and had slipped through her fingers.

  She was not in the blockhouse--that was restricted to key personnel--but on the flat roof of an administration building, with a small crowd of secretaries and clerks, watching the floodlit launch pad through binoculars. The Florida night was warm, the sea air moist. Their fears had grown as the minutes ticked by and the rocket remained on the ground, and now a collective groan went up as technicians in overalls swarmed out of their bunkers and began the complex procedure of standing down all systems. Final confirmation came when the mobile service tower slowly moved forward on its railway tracks to take the white rocket back into its steel arms.

  Elspeth was in an agony of frustration. What the hell had gone wrong?

  She left the others without a word and walked back to Hangar R, her long legs covering the ground with purposeful strides. When she reached her office, the phone was ringing. She snatched it up. "Yes?"

  "What's happening?" The voice was Anthony's.

  "They've aborted the launch. I don't know why--do you?"

  "Luke found the papers. He must have called."

  "Couldn't you stop him?"

  "I had him in my sights--literally--but Billie walked in, armed."

  Elspeth had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach to think of Anthony pointing a gun at Luke. It only made things worse that it was Billie who had intervened. "Is Luke all right?"

  "Yes--and so am I. But Theo's name is on those papers, remember?"

  "Oh, hell."

  "They'll be on their way to arrest him already. You have to find him first."

  "Let me think . . . he's on the beach . . . I can be there in ten minutes . . . I know his car, it's a Hudson Hornet . . ."

  "Then get going!"

  "Yep." She slammed down the phone and rushed out of the building.

  She ran across the parking lot and jumped into her car. Her white Corvette was a convertible, but she kept the top up and the windows tightly shut because of the mosquitoes that plagued the Cape. She drove fast to the gate and was waved through: security was heavy coming in, but not going out. She headed south.

  There was no regular road to the beach. From the highway, several narrow, unpaved tracks led between the dunes to the shore. She planned to take the first, then continue south on the beach. That way she could not miss Theo's car. She peered at the rough brush alongside the road, trying to pick out the track in the light of her headlamps. She had to go slowly, even though she was in such a hurry, for fear of missing the turnoff. Then she saw a car emerging.

  It was followed by another, and another. Elspeth flashed her left-turn indicator and slowed down. A constant stream of cars was coming from the beach. The spectators had figured out that the launch was cancelled--no doubt they, too, had seen, through their binoculars, the service gantry returning to position--and they were all going home.

  She waited to turn left. Infuriatingly, the track was too narrow for two-way traffic. A car behind her honked impatiently. She grunted with exasperation as she saw she was not going to be able to get to the beach this way. She flicked off the indicator and floored the gas pedal.

  She soon came upon another turnoff, but the picture was the same: an unbroken line of cars emerging from a track too narrow to allow two cars to pass. "Hell!" she said aloud. She was sweating now, despite the air-conditioning in her car. There was no way for her to get to the beach. She would have to think of something else. Could she wait on the highway in the hope of spotting his car? It was too chancy. What would Theo do after he left the beach? Her best option was to go to his motel and wait there.

  She sped on, driving fast through the night. She wondered if Colonel Hide and Army security were already at the Vanguard Motel. They might first have called the police or the FBI. They needed a warrant to arrest Theo, she knew--although law enforcement people generally had ways around such inconveniences. Whatever happened, it would take them a few minutes to get themselves together. She had a chance of beating them if she hurried.

  The Vanguard was in a short business strip alongside the highway, between a gas station and a bait-and-tackle store. It had a large parking lot out front. There was no sign of police or Army security: she was in time. But Theo's car was not here. She parked near the motel office, where she was sure to see anyone going in or out, and switched off her engine.

  She did not have to wait long. The yellow-and-brown Hudson Hornet pulled in a couple of minutes later. Theo eased into a slot at the far end of the lot near the road and got out, a small man with thinning hair, dressed in chinos and a beach shirt.

  Elspeth got out of her car.

  She opened her mouth to call to him across the lot. At that moment, two police cruisers arrived.

  Elspeth froze.

  They were Cocoa County Sheriff's vehicles. They came in fast, but without flashing lights or sirens. Behind them followed two unmarked cars. They parked across the entry, making it impossible for cars to leave.

  At first Theo did not see them. He headed across the lot, toward Elspeth and the motel office.

  She knew in a flash what she had to do--but it would take a steady nerve. Stay cool, she told herself. She took a deep breath, then started walking toward him.

  As he came close, he recognized her and said loudly, "What the hell happened? Did they abort the launch?"

  Elspeth said in a low voice, "Give me your car keys." She held out her hand.

  "What for?"

  "Look behind you."

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw the police cars. "Fuck, what do they want?" he said shakily.

  "You. Stay calm. Give me the keys."

  He dropped them into her open hand.

  "Keep walking," she said. "The trunk of my car is not locked. Get inside."

  "Into the trunk?"

  "Yes!" Elspeth went on past him.

  She recognized Colonel Hide and another vaguely familiar face from Cape Canaveral. With them were four local cops and two tall, well-dressed young men who might have been FBI agents. None of them was looking her way. They gathered around Hide. Distantly, Elspeth heard him say, "We need two men to check the license plates of the cars here in the lot while the rest come inside."

  She reached Theo's car and opened the trunk. Inside was the leather suitcase containing the radio transmitter--powerful and heavy. She was not sure she could carry it. She pulled it to the lip of the trunk and dragged it over the edge. It hit the ground with a thud. She closed the trunk lid quickly.

  She looked around. Hide was still giving orders to his men. At the other end of the lot, she saw the trunk lid of her own car slowly closing, as if of its own volition. Theo was inside. That was half the problem solved.

  Gritting her teeth, she g
rasped the handle of the suitcase and lifted it. It felt like a box of lead. She walked a few yards, holding it as long as she could. When her fingers became numb with strain, she dropped the case. Then she picked it up with her left hand. She managed another ten yards before the pain overcame her will and she dropped the case again.

  Behind her, Colonel Hide and his men were crossing the lot toward the motel office. She prayed Hide would not look at her face. The darkness made it less likely he would recognize her. Of course she could make up some story to explain her presence here, but what if he asked to look in the case?

  Once more she changed sides and grasped the handle with her right hand. She could not lift the transmitter this time. Giving up, she began to drag it across the concrete, hoping the noise would not attract the attention of the cops.

  At last she reached her car. As she opened the trunk, one of the uniformed police approached her with a cheerful smile. "Help you with that, ma'am?" he said politely.

  Theo's face stared at her from inside the trunk, white and scared.

  "I got it," she said to the cop out of the corner of her mouth. With both hands, she heaved up the suitcase and slid it in. There was a quiet grunt of pain from Theo as a corner dug into him. With a quick movement, Elspeth slammed the trunk lid and leaned on it. Her arms felt as if they would fall off.

  She looked at the cop. Had he spotted Theo? He gave a puzzled grin. Elspeth said, "My daddy taught me never to pack a bag I couldn't lift."

  "Strong girl," the cop said in a mildly resentful tone.

  "Thanks anyway."

  The other men went past, heading purposefully toward the motel office. Elspeth was careful not to catch Hide's eye. The cop lingered a moment. "Checking out?" he said.

  "Yeah."

  "All alone?"

  "That's right."

  He bent to the window and looked into the car, front and back seats, then straightened up again. "Drive safely." He walked on.

  Elspeth got into her car and started the engine.

  Two more uniformed cops had stayed behind and were checking license plates. She pulled up next to one of them. "Are you going to let me out, or do I have to stay here all night?" she said. She tried a friendly smile.

  He checked her license plate. "Are you alone?"

  "Yes."

  He looked through the window into the backseat. She held her breath. "Okay," he said at last. "You can go."

  He sat in one of the cruisers and moved it out of the way.

  She drove through the gap and pulled onto the highway, then floored the gas pedal.