The Omega Command by Jon Land Page B

billions of dollars were involved. COM-U-TECH had become the ultimate consortium in the telecommunications field. But why? Men like Krayman did not move randomly. So what was he after?
    “It’s something called an orbital flight plan,” T.J. continued, fidgeting nervously in the chair before Sandy’s desk.
    “That’s all your air force friend was able to tell you?”
    “We ain’t friends anymore, boss.”
    “Lunch wasn’t pleasant?”
    “Lunch never happened. Coglan just dropped the disk off like it was burning his fingers and pointed me in the FBI’s direction.”
    “Obviously, he had a good reason for wanting you to get rid of it.”
    “Sure. How does high treason grab you?”
    Sandy started to laugh but quickly stopped when she saw T.J.’s sullen expression. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
    “Not unless Captain Coglan was, and he didn’t seem to be in a joking mood.” T.J. sighed. “After the Challenger explosion, it was the Defense Department that saved the shuttle program and now furnishes virtually all of its funding. In typical Defense Department fashion, everything’s very hush-hush, and even if it weren’t, possessing a computer program made up of the last flight of a shuttle lost in space wouldn’t be looked at too kindly by the authorities. To put it bluntly, they might crucify us. So if you’re ready to go to the FBI, I’ll drive.”
    “What happened to the gung-ho journalistic bravado from yesterday?”
    “Deep down, I’m a coward.”
    “Is that why you haven’t bothered speculating on why a murdered Krayman Industries employee would have an orbital flight plan disk in his possession?”
    “Look who’s making the connections now. …”
    “It would be hard for even a celebrity interviewer to miss them. Kelno worked for Krayman, he had the disk, I’m about to start a story on the man himself when a dying Kelno slips it into my purse. Sounds like a progression to me.
    “You gonna take this to Shay?”
    Sandy hedged. “Not yet.”
    “Because you want it to be your story?”
    “Because I haven’t got enough to take to him yet. Right now we’ve got two leads: Kelno and the disk. Your job is to dig up everything you can on Kelno while I find out exactly what good an orbital flight plan would be to anyone other than NASA.”
    “How?”
    “Your friend Captain Coglan. If lunch didn’t work, I’ll try dinner.”
    McCracken began stripping off his dirty clothes as soon as the door to his room in the St. Regis on Fifty-fifth Street was chained behind him. It felt good to be out of them and he called down immediately to the hotel valet service to have his sport jacket and slacks cleaned and pressed. Yes, they assured him, the job could be done within an hour. An extra fee would be required, though. So what else is new? Blaine thought.
    He took a long hot shower, steaming the grime away, ordered up a turkey club from room service, and after finishing it dialed Andrew Stimson’s private number at exactly four o’clock.
    “Stimson,” came the Gap director’s voice.
    “It’s Blaine, Andy.”
    Silence filled the other end.
    “Andy?”
    “Hell of a mess you made outside Madame Rosa’s,” Stimson said sharply.
    “Thought I’d warned you.”
    “You damn near blew up the whole street. It’s a can of worms, Blaine, and if the truth comes out about your involvement, it’s gonna get spilled all over my lap. Every agency in the book is up there trying to piece together what happened … and I mean literally. There isn’t much left standing.”
    “What about innocent bystanders?” Blaine asked reluctantly.
    “Some hospitalized, none critical. Relax, your record’s intact. The essential point now is that it won’t take the Company and Bureau boys long to put together that a pro was responsible up there and that might lead them to my doorstep. They won’t like what they find inside. Remember, this whole assignment exists only between you and me.”
    “I know.”
    Stimson