Free Operation Moon Rocket by Nick Carter Page B

neutral. A radio announcer's voice. Nick had heard that it could take on an almost hypnotic quality when he was describing a deal to a prospective investor.
    When he came to Nick, Simian gave him a playful half-punch. "Well, Colonel, still playing a hand for exactly what it's worth?" he chuckled. Nick winked enigmatically and moved on, wondering what in hell he was referring to.
    Two of the men with whom Simian had been talking turned out to be FBI agents. The third, a tall, affable redhead wearing a green GKI police uniform, was introduced as his Chief of Security, Clint Sands. "Mr. Simian an' Ah flew in from Florida last night as soon as we heard what happened," drawled Sands. "If y'all follow me," he added, "Ah'll show you what we found."
    The spacecraft simulator was a charred ruin. The wiring and controls had melted from the heat, and fragments of human flesh still sticking to the inside hatch cover testified to how hot the metal itself must have gotten.
    "How many fatalities?" asked General McAlester, peering inside.
    "There were two men working in there," said Simian, "testing the ECS system. Same thing happened as at the Cape — an oxygen atmosphere flash fire. We've traced it to an electrical cord powering a work lamp. We've further established that a break in its plastic insulation allowed the wire to create an electrical arc against the aluminum flooring."
    "We conducted tests with an identical wire," drawled Sands. "They indicated that an arc like that would ignite combustibles within a radius of twelve to fourteen inches."
    "This is the original wire," said Simian, holding it out for them to see. "It's badly melted, of course, fused with a section of flooring, but look at the break. It's cut, not worn away. And this clinches it." He held out a tiny file and a magnifying glass. "Pass them around, please. The file was found wedged between the floor plate and a bundle of wiring. Whoever used it must have dropped it and been unable to retrieve it. It's made of tungsten, which is why it was undamaged by the heat. Please notice the legend engraved on the tip of the handle — the letters YCK. I think anyone who knows Asia or who knows tools will tell you that this file was manufactured in Red China by the Chong Company of Foochow. They still use the same stamping device as they did in pre-Red days."
    He eyed each of them in turn. "Gentlemen," he said, "I'm convinced that we're faced with a program of organized sabotage, and I'm further convinced that the Chinese Reds are behind it. I think that the Chicoms are out to destroy both the U.S. and the Soviet moon programs. You'll recall what happened to Soyuz One last year — when the Russian astronaut, Komarov, was killed." He paused for dramatic emphasis, then said: "You can pursue any course of investigation you choose, but my security force is proceeding on the assumption that Peking is behind our troubles."
    Clint Sands nodded. "It's not over, either — not by a long shot. There was another incident up at the Cape yesterday. A bus full of Space Center dependents went out of control an' crashed into a ditch on its way back from Orlando. Nobody was seriously hurt, but the kids were shaken up, and the women were all pretty hysterical. They said it was no accident. Turns out they were right. We had the steering column checked. It was sawed through. So we had them flown down to the GKI Medical Center in Miami at Mr. Simian's expense. At least they'll be safe there."
    Major Sollitz nodded. "Probably the best thing under the circumstances," he said. "The overall security picture at the Cape is a shambles."
    Nick wanted that tungsten file for AXE's lab but there was no way of getting it, short of blowing his cover. So the two FBI men walked off with it. He made a mental note to have Hawk officially request it later.
    As they walked back to the limousine, Simian said, "I'm going to have the spacecraft simulator's remains sent to NASA's Langley Research Center at Hampton,