Franklin nodded. ‘OK, got it.’ He turned to Merriweather again. ‘So a big number flashed up on the screen followed by this message?’
‘Yes, sir. I think the googolplex was probably something to do with the initialization of the malware and I just happened to be there to see it.’
‘And you were alone in the control room when all this happened?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that standard practice?’
‘No. I mean usually there are at least … everyone else was at the party.’ He looked at Pierce for support.
‘Merriweather volunteered to man the graveyard shift,’ Pierce said. ‘I checked on the staff rota. He was the only one here.’
‘Mighty public spirited of you, staying back here to watch the store while everyone else gets to go off and party. Not so great that that’s when the store got knocked off though, huh?’ Franklin stared hard at Merriweather for a long few seconds then smiled in the way Shepherd was fast getting used to. ‘Don’t worry, son. I reckon you’re too smart to hang yourself out to dry by throwing a spanner in the works on your own watch. Tell me about Dr Kinderman, when was the last time you saw him?’
Shepherd recognized the interview method Franklin was using. He was moving the questions around, rapidly changing topic and tone to give the subject no time to think and shake away any subterfuge they might be clinging to. It was a technique you used on someone you thought might be lying.
‘He was still in his office at around five thirty. I walked past on my way to get a snack before everyone else left.’
‘Did you speak to him?’
‘No. He was at his desk, working.’
‘Did he seem anxious to you?’
‘Not that I could tell.’
‘Did you notice him acting strangely at all in the past few days?’
Merriweather shrugged. ‘I can’t really say. Dr Kinderman doesn’t exactly conform to conventional notions of behaviour.’
Franklin took a deep breath and seemed to double in size. ‘Listen, son, you can either choose to help us or you can choose to be obstructive, and one of those options is a Federal offence and comes with jail time. Just answer the question.’
Merriweather’s face went blank, like a shutter had just come down and Shepherd realized Franklin had taken a seriously wrong turn. Threats wouldn’t work with someone like Merriweather. His loyalty to the project would be fierce and would far outweigh any personal agenda or self-regard. NASA was like a religion, and the faithful did not abandon their beliefs just because someone threatened them.
‘Listen,’ Shepherd said, cutting across Franklin to try and rescue the situation. ‘I know what you’re thinking: there’s no way Dr Kinderman would do this, am I right?’ Merriweather looked at him blankly, the shutters still down. Shepherd was aware of Franklin glaring at him, furious that he had broken rank and taken over the questioning. ‘I know exactly what you mean about him being unconventional. I crunched some data here on one of the last Explorer missions, remember that?’
Merriweather nodded. ‘They shut it down a while back.’ His voice sounded hollow, like he was talking about someone who had died. In that moment Shepherd knew exactly where all his nervousness was coming from and it wasn’t guilt: it was fear for what would happen next. ‘Tell me what happens if you can’t re-establish contact with Hubble?’
Merriweather looked up, locking eyes with Shepherd for the first time. ‘The only way to reboot it would be to manually restore the system.’
‘So you’d have to launch a mission. Someone would have to physically go into orbit to fix it?’
Merriweather nodded.
‘And is that likely?’
Merriweather took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because of James Webb.’
‘Anyone mind telling me who the hell James Webb is and what he’s got to do with any of this?’ Franklin said, directing the question to the room.
Merriweather took off his glasses and rubbed at the indentations they’d left on the bridge of his nose. ‘James Webb was the architect of the Apollo programme, the one who put a man on the moon. But in this case it’s not a who it’s a what.’ He sank down at the laptop he’d been working on and typed something. The screen filled with an image of what looked like a wide flat coffin with a golden satellite array on top like a sail. ‘Say hello to Hubble’s successor, the James Webb telescope. It’s bigger, will have a much higher orbit and will see much, much further. They’re building it right