says on my papers, and I reckon that's good enough. If they said anything else, I suppose it would be Her Majesty's Mechanic. I fix things that need fixing. Right now that means you."
"Thank you," Brian said touchily, "but I'm fixed."
"All right, then - what do you mean to do? Can you navigate without those ground-beam thingies? Can you avoid other planes?"
"I can navigate just fine with on-board equipment," Brian said. "As for other planes - " He pointed at the radar screen. "This bastard says there aren't any other planes."
"Could be there are, though," Nick said softly. "Could be that radio and radar conditions are snafued, at least for the time being. You mentioned nuclear war, Brian. I think if there had been a nuclear exchange, we'd know. But that doesn't mean there hasn't been some sort of accident. Are you familiar with the phenomenon called the electromagnetic pulse?"
Brian thought briefly of Melanie Trevor. Oh, and we've had reports of the aurora borealis over the Mojave Desert. You might want to stay awake for that.
Could that be it? Some freakish weather phenomenon?
He supposed it was just possible. But, if so, how come he heard no static on the radio? How come there was no wave interference across the radar screen? Why just this dead blankness? And he didn't think the aurora borealis had been responsible for the disappearance of a hundred and fifty to two hundred passengers.
"Well?" Nick asked.
"You're some mechanic, Nick," Brian said at last, "but I don't think it's EMP. All on-board equipment - including the directional gear - seems to be working just fine." He pointed to the digital compass readout. "If we'd experienced an electromagnetic pulse, that baby would be all over the place. But it's holding dead steady."
"So. Do you intend to continue on to Boston?"
Do you intend... ?
And with that, the last of Brian's panic drained away. That's right, he thought. I'm the captain of this ship now... and in the end, that's all it comes down to. You should have reminded me of that in the first place, my friend, and saved us both a lot of trouble.
"Logan at dawn, with no idea what's going on in the country below us, or the rest of the world? No way."
"Then what is our destination? Or do you need time to consider that matter?"
Brian didn't. And now the other things he needed to do began to click into place.
"I know," he said. "And I think it's time to talk to the passengers. The few that are left, anyway."
He picked up the microphone, and that was when the bald man who had been sleeping in the business section poked his head into the cockpit. "Would one of you gentlemen be so kind as to tell me what's happened to all the service personnel on this craft?" he asked querulously. "I've had a very nice nap... but now I'd like my dinner."
10
Dinah Bellman felt much better. It was good to have other people around her, to feel their comforting presence. She was sitting in a small group with Albert Kaussner, Laurel Stevenson, and the man in the ratty sport-coat, who had introduced himself as Robert Jenkins. He was, he said, the author of more than forty mystery novels, and had been on his way to Boston to address a convention of mystery fans.
"Now," he said, "I find myself involved in a mystery a good deal more extravagant than any I would ever have dared to write."
These four were sitting in the center section, near the head of the main cabin. The man in the crew-neck jersey sat in the starboard aisle, several rows down, holding a handkerchief to his nose (which had actually stopped bleeding several minutes ago) and fuming in solitary splendor. Don Gaffney sat nearby, keeping an uneasy watch on him. Gaffney had only spoken once, to ask Crew-Neck what his name was. Crew-Neck had not replied. He simply fixed Gaffney with a gaze of baleful intensity over the crumpled bouquet of his handkerchief.
Gaffney had not asked again.
"Does anyone have the slightest idea of what's going on here?" Laurel almost pleaded. "I'm supposed to be starting my first real vacation in ten years tomorrow, and now this happens."
Albert happened to be looking directly at Miss Stevenson as she spoke. As she dropped the line about this being her first real vacation in ten years, he saw her eyes suddenly shift to the right and blink rapidly three or