Debt of Honor - Tom Clancy [85]
Rebecca Upton was in her Nissan, following the wreckers to Nashville, where she would first supervise the initial storage of the burned-out Crestas and then meet with the head of the local office to begin the procedures for a formal investigation—lots of paperwork, she was sure, and the engineer found it odd that she was not upset at her wrecked weekend. Along with her job came a cellular phone, which she assiduously used only for official business and only when absolutely necessary—she'd been in federal employ for just ten months—which meant in her case that she'd never even reached the basic monthly fee which the company charged the government. The phone had never rung in her car before, and she was startled by the sound when it started warbling next to her.
"Hello?" she said, picking it up, wondering if it were a wrong number.
"Rebecca Upton?"
"That's right. Who is this?"
"Please hold for Congressman Trent," a male voice told her.
"Huh? Who?"
"Hello?" a new voice said.
"Who's this?"
"Are you Rebecca Upton?"
"Yes, I am. Who are you?"
"I'm Alan Trent, Member of Congress from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. " Massachusetts, as any elected official from that state would announce at the drop of a hat, was not a mere "state."
"I tracked you down through the NTSB watch center. Your supervisor is Michael Zimmer, and his number in Nashville is—"
"Okay, I believe you, sir. What can I do for you?"
"You're investigating a crash on 1-40, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to fill me in on what you know."
"Sir," Upton said, slowing her car down so that she could think, "we haven't even really started it yet, and I'm not really in a position to—"
"Young lady, I'm not asking you for conclusions, just for the reason why you are initiating an investigation. I am in a position to help. If you cooperate, I promise you that the Secretary of Transportation will know what a fine young engineer you are. She's a friend of mine, you see. We worked together in Congress for ten or twelve years."
Oh, Rebecca Upton thought. It was improper, unethical, probably against the rules, and maybe even fattening to reveal information from an ongoing NTSB accident investigation. On the other hand, the investigation hadn't started yet, had it? And Upton wanted to be noticed and promoted as much as the next person. She didn't know that her brief silence was as good as mind-reading to the other person on the cellular circuit, and couldn't see the smile in the Hartford hotel room in any case.
"Sir, it appears to me and to the police who responded to the accident that both gas tanks on both cars failed, causing a fatal fire. There appears on first inspection to be no obvious mechanical reason for the tanks to have done so. Therefore I am going to recommend to my supervisor that we initiate an investigation to determine the cause of the incident."
"Both gas tanks leaked?" the voice asked.
"Yes, sir, but it was worse than a leak. Both failed rather badly."
"Anything else you can tell me?"
"Not really at this time, no." Upton paused. Would this guy really mention her name to the Secretary? If so ... "Something is not right about this, Mr. Trent. Look, I have a degree in engineering, and I minored in materials science. The speed of the impact does not justify two catastrophic structural failures. There are federal safety standards for the structural integrity of automobiles and their components, and those parameters far exceed the conditions I saw at the accident scene. The police officers I spoke with agree.