"I'm fine. Everything is fine. Really. Just… go on with what you're doing."

The paramedics protested, but she pushed through the crowd, moving away, until suddenly Kenny Burne was at her side, his arm around her shoulder.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing," she said.

"This is no time to be on the floor, Casey. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," she said.

She let Kenny walk her out of the building, into the afternoon sun. She squinted in the glare. The huge parking lot was now filled with cars for the second shift. Sunlight glinting off row after row of windshields.

Kenny turned to her. "You want to be more careful, Casey. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," she said. "I do."

She looked down at her clothes. There was a big streak of grease running across her blouse and skirt.

Bume said, "You got a change of clothes here?"

"No. I have to go home."

"I better drive you," Burne said.

She was about to protest, but didn't. "Thanks, Kenny," she said.

John Marder looked up from behind his desk. "I heard there was a little upset in 64. What was that about?"

"Nothing. I was checking something."

He nodded. "I don't want you on the floor alone, Casey. Not after that nonsense with the crane today. If you need to go down there, have Richman or one of the engineers go with you."

"Okay."

"This is no time to take chances."

"I understand."

"Now." He shifted in his chair. "What's this about a reporter?"

"Jack Rogers is working on a story that might turn ugly," Casey said. "Union allegations we're sending the wing offshore. Leaked documents that allegedly say we're offsetting the wing. And he's relating the leaks to, ah, friction in the executive suite."

"Friction?" Marder said. "What friction?"

"He's been told that you and Edgarton are at loggerheads. He asked if I thought management conflicts would affect the sale."

"Oh, Christ," Marder said. He sounded annoyed. "That's ridiculous. I'm behind Hal one hundred percent on this. It's essential for the company. And nobody's leaked anything. What did you tell him?"

"I stalled him," Casey said. "But if we want to kill the story, we have to give him something better. An interview with Edgarton, or an exclusive on the China sale. It's the only way to do it."

"That's fine," Marder said. "But Hal won't do any press. I can ask him, but I know he won't do it."

"Well, somebody needs to," Casey said. "Maybe you should."

"That could be difficult," Marder said. "Hal has instructed me to avoid the media until the sale is finalized. I have to be careful here. Is this guy trustworthy?"

"In my experience, yes."

"If I give him something on deep background, he'll cover me?"

"Sure. He just needs something to file."

"All right. Then I'll talk to him." Marder scribbled a note. "Was there anything else?"

"No, that's all."

She turned to leave.

"By the way, how's Richman working out?"

"Fine," she said. "He's just inexperienced."

"He seems bright," Marder said. "Use him. Give him something to do."

"All right," Casey said.

"That was the problem with Marketing. They didn't give him anything to do."

"Okay," she said.

Marder stood. "See you tomorrow at the IRT."

After Casey had gone, a side door opened. Richman walked in.

"You dumb fuck," Marder said. "She almost got hurt in 64 this afternoon. Where the hell were you?'

"Well, I was-"

"Get this straight," Marder said. "I don't want anything to happen to Singleton, you understand me? We need her in one piece. She can't do this job from a hospital bed"

"Got it, John."

"You better, pal. I want you next to her at all times, until we finish this thing."

She went back down to her fourth floor offices. Norma was still at her desk, a cigarette dangling from her lip. "You got another stack on your desk, waiting for you."

"Okay."

"Richman's gone home for the day."

"Okay."

"He seemed eager to leave, anyway. But I talked to Evelyn in Accounting."

"And?"

"Richman's travel at Marketing was billed to customer services in the program office. That's a slush fund they use for baksheesh. And the kid spent a fortune."

"How much?"

"Are you ready? Two hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars."

"Wow," Casey said. "In three months?'

"Right."

"That's a lot of ski trips," Casey said. "How were the charges billed?"

"Entertainment. Customer not specified."

"Then who approved the charges?"

"It's a production account," Norma said. "Which means it's controlled by Marder."

"Marder approved these charges?"

"Apparently. Evelyn's checking for me. I'll get more later." Norma shuffled papers on her desk. "Not much else here… FAA's going to be late with the transcript of the CVR. There's a lot of Chinese spoken, and their translators are fighting about the meaning. The carrier's also doing their own translation, so…"

Casey sighed. "What else is new," she said. In incidents like this one, the cockpit voice recorders were sent to the FAA, which generated a written transcript of the cockpit conversation, since the pilots' voices were owned by the carrier. But disputes over the translation were the rule on foreign flights. It always happened.

"Did Allison call?"

"No, honey. The only personal call you got was from Teddy Rawley."

Casey sighed. "Never mind."

"That'd be my advice," Norma said.

In her office, she thumbed through the files on her desk. Most of it was paper on Transpacific 545. The first sheet summarized the stack that followed:

FAA form 8020-9, accident/incident preliminary notice

FAA form 8020-6, report of aircraft accident

FAA form 8020-6-1, report of aircraft accident (continuation)

FAA form 7230-10, position Loos

honolulu ARINC

Los angeles ARTCC

southern california ATAC

automatic sign-in/sign-off log

southern california ATAC

FAA form 7230-4, daily record of facility operation

Los angeles ARTCC

southern california ATAC

FAA form 7230-8, flight progress strip

Los angeles ARTCC

southern california ATAC

flight plan, ICAO

She saw a dozen pages of flight path charts; transcriptions of air traffic control voice recordings; and more weather reports. Next was material from Norton, including a sheaf of fault record data-so far the only hard data they had to work with.

She decided to take it home. She was tired; she could look at it at home.

He sat up in bed abruptly, turned, put his feet on the floor. "So. Listen babe," he said, not looking at her.

She stared at the muscles of his bare back. The ridge of his spine. The strong lines of his shoulders.

"This was great," he said. "It's great to see you."

"Uh-huh," she said.

"But you know, big day tomorrow."

She would have preferred he stay. The truth was, she felt better having him here at night. But she knew he was going to go. He always did. She said, "I understand. It's okay, Teddy."

That made him turn back to her. He gave her his charming, crooked smile. "You're the best, Casey." He bent over and kissed her, a long kiss. She knew this was because she wasn't begging him to stay. She kissed him back, smelling the faint odor of beer. She ran her hand around his neck, caressing the fine hairs.

Almost immediately, he pulled away again. "So. Anyway. Hate to run."

"Sure, Teddy."

"By the way," Teddy said, "I hear you toured the gardens, between shifts…"