The Tower A Novel (Sanctus)

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The transport plane dropped below the cloud barely two hundred feet above a field of whiteness so bright Shepherd had to squint to

make out Redstone Army airfield with the space centre beyond stretching all the way to the horizon.

‘Pilot, you sure this is Alabama and not Alaska?’ Franklin’s voice crackled through the drone of the engines.

‘They got weather like this all over the South,’ the pilot replied, ‘biggest dump since records began. Christmassy though, ain

’t it? If it’s nice weather you wanted we should have flown north. Apparently they got a heat wave in Chicago. World’s gone

crazy.’

‘End of days,’ Franklin muttered loud enough for Shepherd to hear. ‘Maybe Kinderman was on to something.’

The tyres squealed against the frozen tarmac as they touched down on the cleared runway and the smell of scorched rubber seeped

into the hold, making Shepherd feel slightly sick. He hadn’t slept all night, had barely eaten anything and the flight had been

so bumpy he felt like he’d been beaten up.

‘You think NASA might stand us a little breakfast?’ Franklin asked, demonstrating again his uncanny knack of sniffing out a raw

nerve and tweaking it.

‘I can take you to the canteen,’ Shepherd said, breathing in freezing air that smelt of rubber and trying hard not to think

about the greasy piles of bacon and hash browns laid on each morning for the seven thousand space centre personnel.

Franklin smiled. ‘In that case I’m actually glad I brought you along.’

The plane jerked to a stop with the same lack of grace as the rest of the flight and freezing air flooded the hold as the rear-

loading ramp began to lower.

Outside, a Ford Explorer was waiting for them, its engine running and sending thick clouds of exhaust fumes past the NASA logo on

the side. A man in a dark blue parka with a security badge stitched on the sleeve got out of the passenger door and stood with his

hands crossed in front of him. He was a carbon copy of the Security Chief at Goddard: same solid weightlifter’s build; same flat

face; Shepherd bet he had the same neat office with a picture of his youthful self on the wall.

‘Dave Ellery,’ the man said, extending his hand to Franklin who led the way down the ramp. ‘I’m Chief of Security here.’ He

wore gloves against the cold and didn’t bother taking them off when he shook hands. Not friendly at all. It was a territorial

thing stemming from the fact that the FBI had cross-state jurisdiction and could take over an investigation if they decided to. No

one likes meeting a bigger fish, especially in law enforcement. Ellery gestured to the rear doors and got back into the front

passenger seat without saying another word.

The inside of the basic Explorer was like five-star luxury after the plane. It was super-heated, the seats were padded and

Shepherd felt an ache in his fingers and toes as blood started working its way back into them.

‘You fellas sure picked a day for it,’ Ellery said, staring out from behind black shades at the white landscape.

‘From what I heard they done hijacked your weather and shipped it off to Chicago,’ Franklin said, subtly upping his southern

accent to match Ellery’s. It was a technique they taught at Quantico called subject mirroring that implied kinship and helped

promote trust, though Shepherd suspected it might be somewhat lost on the frosty Security Chief, who had probably done the same

course anyway.

‘I didn’t mean just the weather,’ Ellery said without elaborating.

‘Bad day already?’

‘I’ll say. I’m running short-staffed and we’ve had to evacuate one of the research facilities because of a helium leak. You

can’t mess with that stuff. Had to shut the entire building down.’ He removed a box file from an attaché case by his feet and

handed it to Franklin in the back seat. ‘I dug out those documents you asked for.’

The word THREATS was written on the file in thick marker pen. Franklin opened it and slid out twelve clear plastic folders, each

containing correspondence from a different month. January contained a one-page note typed on an old-fashioned typewriter that

said:

Dear NASA,

Quit wasting tax dollars shooting junk up into space. The army needs equipment bad. Spend money on that you a*sholes or I will

personally shoot the man pushing the launch button. I am deadly serious.

A Patriot

‘’Course that’s just the physical stuff,’ Ellery said. ‘We get ten times as much mail over the internet. I can show you that

in my office if you want.’

Franklin sorted through the plastic folders until he found one marked May, the month Dr Kinderman had received his first card.

‘Is it true what I heard, Hubble got knocked offline?’ Ellery asked.

‘That’s classified information. And whatever you heard we would ’preciate you keeping it under your hat, sir. You know how

rumours can get in the way of an investigation.’ Franklin’s accent was travelling down through Georgia and getting further south

all the time.

He handed January through April to Shepherd and popped the fastener on May, carefully sliding out the contents to keep them in

order. May had clearly been a bumper month for the crazies. Top of the pile was an almost illiterate letter written in crayon with

some photos of astronauts stuck to it with their faces burned out by a cigarette. Below that was a photo of the Challenger shuttle

exploding, with a future date and I WILL MAKE THIS HAPPEN AGEN written on it. The next item was a postcard with a Renaissance

painting of the Tower of Babel on the front. Franklin showed it to Shepherd then flipped it over. On the back, in a familiar neat

hand was written:

“And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name.”

‘You get any more like this?’ Franklin held up the card and Ellery’s head swivelled round to see it.

‘One a month since May, reg’lar as clockwork.’

‘Was the Professor bothered by them?’

‘Not especially.’

‘But he did see them?’

‘Sure, they were addressed to him.’

‘Did you mention them to Chief Pierce over at Goddard?’

Ellery snorted. ‘Why would I do that? Chief Pierce has his own fair share of nut-jobs to deal with I’m damn sure he don’t need

any of mine.’

Franklin handed the remaining files to Shepherd leaving himself with December. ‘Did you get another one this month?’

‘No. Matter of fact we did not.’

Franklin popped the fastener. ‘Don’t tell me, you got a letter instead, one that was typed but similar in tone.’

Ellery paused. ‘How did you know that?’

Franklin didn’t answer. He had already found the twin of the A5 manila envelope that had been sent to Kinderman. It was in its

own plastic folder next to the letter it had contained. Franklin held it out so Shepherd could read it. It was identical to the

first one except for one small detail.

‘Least he didn’t call this one a Sodomite,’ Franklin said so only Shepherd could hear. ‘You follow this up?’ he asked Ellery.

‘Of course. We take threats seriously here, no matter how strange, vague or misguided they may appear. I sent the original up to

Langley, that one there is just a copy. I sent one of the postcards too.’

‘They find anything?’

‘Who knows? These things don’t rank too high on the “hurry up” scale. Anything more important comes along – which is just

about everything – stuff like this gets bumped to the bottom of the pile. Here we are, gentlemen.’

Shepherd looked up as the Explorer eased off the main road and approached the front of a mirrored building that reflected the sky

making it seem like it was hardly there. Beyond it in the distance the launch towers rose above various research facility

buildings that sprawled across the campus. One of them had a small crowd of people outside it wearing white, clean-room suits and

was surrounded by parked emergency vehicles, their lights turning slowly.

‘Is that where the helium leak happened?’ Franklin asked.

‘Yup, that’s the cryo lab – biggest vacuum testing facility in the world. They got a test room there where they can suck every

molecule of air right out of it and freeze it down to space temperatures. We use it to test all the expensive hardware before it

gets launched, make sure it won’t break up in space.’

Something tightened in the pit of Shepherd’s empty stomach. ‘What are you testing in there now?’

‘Mirrors.’

‘What for?’

‘Same thing we’ve been testing all year – James Webb.’

Franklin jerked forward in his seat. ‘Driver, you need to take us over there right now.’

‘Now wait a second.’ Ellery swivelled round. ‘This is my facility. You can’t just come here and start ordering people …’

‘Yes I can,’ Franklin cut him off. ‘That’s exactly what I can do. Start driving, son.’

The driver obeyed, throwing the wheel hard over and sending the Explorer into a sharp U-turn. Ellery opened and closed his mouth

like a landed fish but said nothing. Ahead of them the cryo lab swung back into view, leaking thick clouds of helium vapour like

the whole place was ready to blow.

‘When did the leak happen?’

‘The alarm went off ’bout a half hour ago.’

‘And had you spoken to Professor Douglas by then?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Had you told him we were coming?’

‘No. I’d spoken to him but I didn’t say what it was about.’

‘What did you say exactly?’

‘I said some people had been asking for him, but I didn’t say who.’

‘And when was this?’

‘Just as soon as I got off the phone to you.’

Franklin shook his head. ‘Driver, you need to get us over there as fast as you can.’ The Explorer lurched, pushing everyone back

in their seats as the driver floored the accelerator.

‘What the hell is this about anyway?’ Ellery growled, trying to claw back a bit of authority.

‘Those mirrors you’ve been testing, are they expensive by any chance, difficult to replace if they got broken?’

‘They cost about fifteen million dollars apiece. They’re precision-engineered and coated in gold. We got six of them in the

chamber at the moment.’

‘Really? Well there’s a very real chance that right now, while everyone else is standing around outside, Professor Douglas is

inside using his car keys to scratch his name on them.’