Vixen 03 Part 9

As if in a trance, he turned and looked up at her. "What?" Then, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

The violet eyes studied him. "You're like a man possessed," she said suddenly, without quite knowing why.

"Could be I'm going psycho," he said, smiling faintly. "I'm beginning to see aircraft wreckage in my every thought."

She pa.s.sed him one cup and cradled the other in her hands, soaking up its warmth. "That stupid old junk of Dad's. That's all you've had on your mind since we've been here. You've blown its significance out of all proportion."

"I can't make any sense out of it either." He paused and sipped the coffee. "Call it the Pitt curse; I can't drop a problem until I find a workable solution." He turned toward her. "Does that sound odd?"

"I suppose some people are compelled to find answers to the unknown."

He continued to speak in an introspective way. "This isn't the first time I've had a strong intuitive feeling about something."

"Are you always right?"

He shrugged and grinned. "To be honest, my ratio of success is about one in five."

"And if it is proven that Dad's salvage did not come off an airplane that crashed near here, what then?"

"Then I forget it and reenter the mundane world of practicality."

A kind of stillness settled upon them and Loren came over and sank into his lap, trying to absorb his body heat in the cool breeze that drifted down from the mountains.

"We still have twelve more hours before we board a plane back to Washington. I don't want anything to spoil our last night alone. Please, let's go in now and go to bed."

Pitt smiled and kissed her eyes tenderly. He balanced her weight in both arms and rose from the chair, lifting her as easily as he would a large stuffed doll. Then he carried her inside the cabin.

He wisely decided that now was not the time to tell her that she would be returning to the nation's capital alone, that he would stay behind and continue his search.

Two evenings later, a subdued Pitt sat at the cabin's dining table and scrutinized a spread of topographical maps. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. All he had to show for his effort was a distraught girl friend and a hefty bill from the company that had rented him the helicopter.

The sound of feet thudded up the stairs to the front balcony, and soon a head that was completely shaved and a face with friendly hazel eyes and an enormous Kaiser Wilhelm mustache peered through the window in the Dutch door.

"h.e.l.lo, the house," hailed the voice that seemed to come from a pair of size-twelve boots.

"Come in," Pitt answered without rising.

The man's body was squat and barrel-chested and must have sagged the scales, Pitt judged, at close to two hundred twenty pounds. The stranger shoved out a beefy hand.

"You must be Pitt."

"Yes, I'm Pitt."

"Good. I found you on the first try. I was afraid of taking a wrong turn in the dark. I'm Abe Steiger."

"Colonel Steiger?"

"Forget the t.i.tle. As you can see, I came dressed like an old pack rat."

"I hardly expected you to answer my inquiry in person. A letter would have done just as well."

Steiger gave a wide grin. "The fact of the matter is, I wasn't about to let the price of a stamp cheat me out of a prospecting trip."

"A prospecting trip?"

"I'm killing two birds with the same stone, so to speak. One, I'm scheduled to speak next week at Chanute Air Force Base, in Illinois, on aircraft safety. Two, you're sitting in the heart of Colorado mining country, and since I have a raving fetish for prospecting, I took the liberty of stopping over in hopes of getting in a little gold panning before continuing on to my lecture."

"You're more than welcome to bunk with me. I'm baching it at the moment anyway."

"Mr. Pitt, I accept your hospitality."

"Did you bring any luggage?"

"Outside, in a rented car."

"Bring it in and I'll fix some coffee." Then, as an afterthought, "Would you like some supper?"

"Thanks, but I had a bite with Harvey Dolan before I drove up."

"You saw the nose gear, then."

Steiger nodded and produced an old leather briefcase. He unzipped the sides and pa.s.sed Pitt a stapled folder. "The status report on Air Force Boeing C-ninety-seven, number 75403, commanded by a Major Vylander. You might as well go over it while I unpack. If you have any questions, just holler."

After Steiger was settled in a spare bedroom, he joined Pitt at the table. "Does that resolve your curiosity?"

Pitt looked up over the folder. "This report states that 03 vanished over the Pacific during a routine flight between California and Hawaii during January of 1954."

"That's what Air Force records show."

"How do you explain the presence of the nose gear here in Colorado?"

"No great mystery. Sometime during the aircraft's service life the gear a.s.sembly was probably replaced with a new one. It's not an uncommon occurrence. The mechanics found a flaw in the structure. A hard landing cracked the strut. Perhaps it was damaged while being towed. There are a dozen different reasons that would require a replacement." "Do the maintenance records show a replacement?"

"No, they do not."

"Isn't that a bit peculiar?"

"Irregular, maybe, but not peculiar. Air Force maintenance personnel are noted for their skill at mechanical repair, not for administrative bookkeeping."

"This also states that no traces of the aircraft or its crew ever turned

up"

"I'll concede a puzzler on that score. The records indicate the search was an extensive one, much larger than the normal air-sea rescue procedures called for by the book. And yet, combined units of the Air Force and Navy drew a big fat zero." Steiger nodded thanks as Pitt handed him a steaming cup of coffee. "However, these things happen. Our files are crammed with aircraft that have flown into oblivion."

" 'Flown into oblivion.' That's very poetic." There was no concealing the cynicism in Pitt's voice.

Steiger ignored the tone and sipped at his coffee. "To an air-safety investigator, every unsolved crash is a thorn in the flesh. We're like doctors who occasionally lose a patient on the operating table. The ones that get away keep us awake nights."