"No."
"Canadian?"
"Not at that speed."
"That leaves the big one, then. Russian?"
Cartwell shrugged. "Could be. If it is, we want the wreckage. No matter
what it is, or whose it is, we are very interested in any aircraft that
travels at speeds of fifteen to nineteen thousand miles per hour."
Nolan whistled again. "That's rolling," he grinned.
"Yeah," mused Sam Morgan, "and we'd kind of like to know what makes it
roll like that."
"Okay. Let's go into a huddle," Nolan said. "But I can tell you this. If
the thing went down in north central Pennsylvania, it's in some pretty
rugged country."
"Great," Cartwell snarled.