Free The Tin Man by Dale Brown Page B

allow myself or the U.S. government to be manipulated by such antics!”
    “What are you saying, Secretary Fenton?” Kaddiri asked in amazement.
    “The department will not consider Masters’s development request and will block any efforts to utilize that … that BERP technology until we can get someone in your organization to present a rational, scientific demonstration and validation program,” Fenton said angrily. “And if he tries to sell that technology overseas, you’ll be sanctioned here in the U.S., and any foreign aircraft using that technology will be barred from entering U.S. airspace.”
    “But—but we proved the technology
works!”
Kaddiri argued. “I’ll admit, Secretary Fenton, that Jon’s methods were a little extreme …”
    “Extreme!
We could have watched Masters blow himself to
bits!”
Fenton shouted. “He couldn’t place a robot or a dummy in that seat instead of himself?” Fenton massaged his temples, in visible discomfort. “I still can’t get that picture out of my head, Dr. Kaddiri—it’s like watching images from Vietnam, of Viet Cong prisoners being executed in the streets or Buddhist monks immolating themselves on TV …”
    “Listen, Ed … I mean, Secretary Fenton,” Masters said through the satellite videolink, deciding far too late that he had better be more diplomatic—and fast. By this time, more rescue workers in breathing apparatus had arrived and were hauling him to his feet, trying to hustle him out of the stricken fuselage. He looked like a hunted animal. “This technology is too important to ignore,” he shouted. “Forget this demo. No one got hurt. I’ll turn over all my test data to you. It’s for real, believe me …” But the fear and panic over the demonstration overrode his protests. It was too late. Fenton and the others were gone.
    Helen Kaddiri plopped down on a nearby chair in the empty conference room, deflated. Years of research, months of preparation—wasted. It would be at least another year, maybe longer, before they’d be allowed to present any information on BERP again. Damn Jon, damn his screwy project names, damn his complete disregard for prudence! It could take a complete change in administrations at the Department of Transportation, even the White House, before they got to present any more projects to the government, to
anyone!
    The range-control phone rang, and Helen picked it up. “Kaddiri.”
    “Helen, it was so
cool!”
Masters shouted gleefully into the range-control officer’s speakerphone. “I mean, it was scary—man, when I saw that deck buckle, I thought I was a goner—but it held! It works!”
    “Jon, everyone here is gone …”
    “Hey, don’t worry about the FAA or the airline guys,” Masters said. “They’ll calm down, and when they realize how important this technology is, we’ll have another dem-val program set up very soon. We’ll—”
    “Not ‘we,’ Jon,” Helen Kaddiri said bitterly. “I’ve had enough of you and your complete disregard for anyone else’s feelings or thoughts or opinions. You seem to think this is all a big game, and you don’t seem to give a damn how it affects our business.”
    Jon looked for the switch to turn off the speakerphone and flipped it but instead turned on the area-wide loudspeakers. Their conversation was broadcast all around the testing area, making it easy for the three dozen range personnel to hear Kaddiri go on: “I tried to have you removed as president, and I failed, so I’m not going to try it again. I’m resigning as chairman of the board of directors, and I’m leaving. I’m not going to work for a nutcase. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead, but I’m not going to stand by and watch you take the company down from underneath us.”
    “Helen, wait a sec. Everything is cool! We’ll be fine …”
    “You are
not
fine, Jon. You’re obsessed. You’re crazy. You’re unstable. I’m not going to work with someone who completely disregards his own