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In the following paragraph 53 he observed "If the explanation of the chief executive is to be accepted, then in the opinion of someone the briefing documents of First Officer Cassin, the co-pilot, were thought to be irrelevant to the disaster"; and in paragraph 54 "it follows that this direction on the part of the chief executive for the destruction of 'irrelevant documents' was one of the most remarkable executive decisions ever to have been made in the corporation affairs of a large New Zealand company".
If you can ride this ship down, so can I!" The co-pilot got up and scowled at him. "Anything I can move out, goes. Will you help?" Joe followed him through the door into the cargo compartment. The space there was very considerable, and bitterly cold. The crates from the Kenmore plant were the heaviest items of cargo. Other objects were smaller.
We made a telescope mounting once, for an observatory in South Africa, but compared to this gadget we worked on that one blindfolded!" "Pilot gyros, eh?" said the co-pilot. "That's what the waybill said. But if they were all right when they left the plant, they'll be all right when they are delivered." Joe said ruefully: "Still I'd feel better riding back there with them."
The pilot flew on, frowning. The co-pilot said: "Yes. Sure! I'm listening!" There was a pause. Then he said: "Check. Thanks." He hung the instrument back where it belonged, above his head and behind him. He thoughtfully mopped his brow. He looked at Joe. "Maybe," he said mildly, "you believe me when I tell you there's a sort of hot war on, to keep the Platform from taking off." The pilot grunted.
"You'll see the Shed in a minute or two," said the co-pilot. He added vexedly, as if the thing had been bothering him, "I wish I hadn't missed that sandy-haired guy putting his hand in the wheel well! Nothing happened, but I shouldn't have missed it!" Joe watched. Very, very far away there were mountains, but he suddenly realized the remarkable flatness of the ground over which they were flying.
As the plane roared on rocking from the shock wave of the explosion Joe saw a crater and a boiling cloud of smoke and flying sand. The co-pilot spoke explosively and furiously, in the blasting uproar of the motors. He vengefully marked the waybill of the parcel that had exploded. But then they went back to the job of dumping cargo. They worked well as a team now.
Joe pulled himself loose from where he had been flung it seemed to him that he peeled himself loose and found the pilot struggling up, and he grabbed him to help, and the co-pilot hauled at them both, and abruptly all three of them were in the open air and running at full speed away from the ship. The roar abruptly became a bellowing. There was an explosion. Flames sprouted everywhere.
He turned back to the contemplation of the instruments before him and the view out the transparent plastic of the cabin windows. "He does?" The co-pilot said to Joe, "You've got security checks around your plant. They weren't put there for fun. It's a hundred times worse where the whole Platform's being built." "Security?" said Joe. He shrugged. "We know everybody who works at the plant.
But the co-pilot checked each item before he jettisoned it. It was a singularly deliberate way to dump cargo to destruction. A metal-bound box. Over the edge of the cargo space floor. A piece of machinery, visible through its crate. A box marked Instruments. Fragile. Each one checked off. Each one dumped to drop a thousand feet or more. A small crated dynamo. This item and that.
They were packed at the plant!" The co-pilot suddenly made an incoherent sound of rage. "I've got it!" he said hoarsely. "I know " "What?" snapped Major Holt. "They planted that grenade at the major overhaul!" panted the co-pilot, too enraged even to swear. "They fixed it so any trouble would mean a wreck! And I pulled the fire-extinguisher releases just as we hit! For all compartments!
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