“Then let’s focus on how we can stop them from finding it without causing an—”
“We can’t,” Jack repeated.
Slater knew he was right. “Then we have to assume they’re going to find it,” she said after a few painful seconds of thought. “And we have to assume they’ll find a way to open it without damaging the plaques.”
“That’s the worst-case scenario,” Jack said. “The likelihood is—”
“It doesn’t matter how unlikely it is,” Slater interrupted. “There’s a chance. What we need to do now is find out exactly what’s written on the two plaques. Because even if the truth can’t be kept down, we need to know what it is before it comes out. Otherwise we’re chasing shadows.”
Jack pursed his lips. “I don’t know what you want me to do. We already know there’s a timescale and an alien solar system. The only parts we don’t know are the details.”
“We have to know exactly what the Argentines are looking for, Jack. Because if they actually find it…”
Jack raised his eyebrows, still searching for a tangible instruction.
“Find Walker,” Slater said. “Kloster might have told him more than he wrote in the letter.”
“I’ve been trying to find Walker for days! He didn’t show up for work today, again, and he hasn’t been home since the weekend. I don’t know where the hell he is.”
“What about Gold?”
“Ben Gold?” Jack said. “What about him?”
“When you went to Colorado on Wednesday — the last time Walker didn’t show up at the IDA — you said it seemed like Gold knew where he was. And he’s bound to be in the same place.”
“Gold won’t talk. He wouldn’t talk then, so he won’t talk now.”
“Jesus Christ, Jack,” Slater moaned, slamming the desk. “Make him talk! Do I really have to explain what’s at stake here?”
“Of course not, but—”
“No buts.”
“But—”
“No. Buts.”
“Valerie, I’ve tried…”
President Slater snatched Jack’s sheet of paper, crumpled it up, and threw it towards the door. “Get out,” she said, deliberately looking away. “And don’t come back until you’ve found him.”
TUESDAY
D minus 18
Lake Maggiore
Ispra, Italy
As Dan walked through to the lakeside villa’s rustic living room shortly after 7am, he was unsurprised to see Emma already there and to hear Clark still snoring from his chosen bed some three rooms away.
Emma and Dan spent a lazy morning watching Blitz News, the only American news station the TV had. Clark joined them midway through the 9am cycle.
To Emma’s surprise, there was no sign of any hangover from the previous night’s falling-out over who was scared of what and whether the aliens might be hostile. She didn’t want to question the morning’s tranquillity for fear of breaking it, but she couldn’t square it with her own experience of family arguments that ran and ran and ran.
“So what’s the plan?” Clark asked Emma after glancing at the TV long enough to know that nothing huge had happened overnight. “What kind of media stuff are we doing?”
“We’re going to Timo’s place in Varese first. He’s invited some press.”
“What’s his angle, anyway?”
“He doesn’t have one,” Emma said. She opened her hands and looked around the room. “I mean, he has all the money in the world. He wants what he says he wants: Disclosure.”
“Yeah,” Dan said. “He’s thrown tens of millions of dollars at observatories and scholarships and conferences, even before the bounty he put out after the leak. It’s not just talk with Timo; he’s legit.”
Clark seemed satisfied with their answers. And though he didn’t consider himself an especially good judge of character, Timo had looked him in the eye and spoke with confidence throughout their initial meeting the day before. “So what’s our angle?” he asked. “Why do we need to do this stuff today?”
“Hearts and minds,” Emma said. “Obviously the leak is already a huge global story, but over here Dan McCarthy is just the name of the guy who found the folder. No one really knows who Dan McCarthy is.”
“That’s pretty much what I want, though,” Dan aid. “I wish it was like that at home.”
“No no no,” Emma said. “We’re way past that. We’re at the point where you’re the figurehead of a movement that is going to literally destroy the status quo, for better or worse.”
“Better,” Dan said.
“Right. But given where we are now, the more people who know and care about you, the safer you are.” Emma hesitated, searching for a way to express in words the reasons that felt strong in her mind but weren’t exactly clear-cut. After a few seconds, the lightning bolt hit her: “Remember a few years ago when that African lion got shot and everyone was angry about it for a week or two?”
“Cedric the lion?” Dan said.
“It was Cecil,” Emma said, “but see! You knew which one I meant. Because even though lions get shot all the time, Cecil had a name and a backstory.”
“Didn’t exactly do him much good,” Clark said, grinning at his own dark joke.
“Yeah,” Emma conceded, “but it would have if people thought he was in danger before it happened. I dunno… imagine if they’d announced there was going to be a big trophy hunt where he was, and that everyone already knew his name and his story. No hunter would have wanted any piece of that backlash.”
“It’s kind of different, though,” Dan said, understanding what Emma was driving at but not quite seeing the analogy.
She shrugged. “Basically, we want to make you untouchable. And the best way to do that is to turn your safety into an international issue.”
Clark looked at Dan. “Makes sense.”
Dan nodded. Untouchable… he liked the sound of that.
“So when do we have to leave?” Clark asked, now looking at Emma.
“Eleven,” Emma said, “which is later than we planned. Some wires got crossed and Timo thought it would be okay to send a car for us while he waited at home.”
“And it’s not?” Dan said.
“No. You’re not getting in any vehicle without Timo. Otherwise it could be a fake driver or some kind of security risk. You’re a high-value individual now. We have to think about kidnappings and all sorts of things. But I know that Timo wouldn’t get in a car that wasn’t safe, so that’s how we’re playing it.”
“Listen,” Clark said, a deep, serious tone in his voice. “I protect HVIs for a living. In Iraq. If I can put my life on the line doing bodyguard work for rich assholes I don’t even know, I think I can take care of my own brother.”
“Of course you can,” Emma said. “just as soon as we get out of Timo’s car. If you weren’t here then I would have had to hire a bodyguard, so this isn’t a slight on you.”
Clark accepted Emma’s reasoning and made himself a Clark-sized breakfast, wary of the chance that there might be no time for lunch.
Dan and Emma had lighter meals before getting dressed and prepared for the day ahead.
Timo arrived ahead of schedule, apparently unperturbed by the change of plan. “I would have got here earlier,” he said, “but I got kidnapped twice on the way.”
Dan and Clark laughed at his joke; Emma was just glad there were no hard feelings.
During the luxurious drive to his home in Varese, Timo asked if the group had seen the violent protests overnight. They hadn’t, having only watched the typically insular Blitz News.
Timo described the protests as the worst yet. He said that Thursday’s initial fiery protests had sparked a huge police response which quelled the disorder on Friday and Saturday. Sunday was worse, but still not as bad as Thursday. Those Thursday protests, which had extended across much of southern Europe, were the ones featured on ACN. Dan didn’t like the sound of scenes even worse than those.
“Yesterday morning,” Timo said, “news came ou
t that a protestor died on Sunday after being beaten by the police. You can imagine the reaction. The Italian government is less popular right now than I can ever remember, with these spending cuts and spending cuts and spending cuts, and now we have this cocktail of grievances. From the start we had the real demonstrators — your Now Movement — as well as some of the more “political” protestors with the masks and the bricks and the “actions speak louder than words” outlook. But last night we also had the angry youth turning against the police, as you see too often at home. We can at least be glad there were no more deaths.”
Dan didn’t know what to say.
“I think you should express solidarity with the protesters but call for an end to the violence,” Timo said. “Not because it will change anything, but because it shows that you care about our people.”
Emma shook her head firmly as she replied. “I don’t think we should touch it,” she said. “It’s not our fight.”
Timo turned to Dan. “Dan, I really think you should consider my local—”
“I’m going to do whatever Emma says,” Dan said, cutting Timo off before any kind of real argument could start. “No disrespect. I know she’s not from here, but she got me here.”
“Okay,” Timo said, his eyes locked on Dan’s as though surprised and impressed by his frankness. Timo then turned back to Emma with no hint of a bruised ego, and together they planned the smaller details of Dan’s two scheduled appearances.
* * *
The first of the day’s media events was refreshingly low-key, with Timo introducing Dan to a small crowd of invited journalists outside his stately residence on the outskirts of Varese.
Dan said what Emma told him to say: that he opted to come to Italy while things cooled down because he was getting too much invasive media coverage at home. “I didn’t mind most of the coverage,” he said, “but when it got to the stage that government employees were blackmailing media corporations into bugging my house, it was time for a break.”
After a few more questions, some of which had to go through Timo, the makeshift billionaire translator shared a joke with a journalist in Italian which sparked laughter throughout the group.
Emma butted in. “Dan will only answer questions directly addressed to him in English,” she said, not overly concerned that Timo might be making a fool of Dan but nevertheless unwilling to let Dan answer questions that might lose nuance in translation and enable him to be misrepresented in later coverage.
In the car after this short appearance, Timo explained to Emma that the joke he told was at Richard Walker’s expense. She made it clear that the subject matter wasn’t the point.
“Miss Ford, you have to appreciate that few Italians speak fluent English. Italy is not like Germany in this regard.”
“I don’t care where we are,” Emma said. “And don’t call me Miss Ford. When we get to the next place, you’re going to tell the press that they ask their questions in English or they don’t ask them at all. You can translate the answers back into Italian all you want, but the questions will be in English. Is that clear?”
“As you wish,” Timo said.
Light tension circled in the car for the rest of the much longer journey to the next appearance.
Dan sometimes wondered whether Emma realised how firmly some of her words came across. He was no master of nuanced communication, but even he understood that saying “is that clear?” to someone had an obvious air of “I’m in charge”. After a few moments of thought, he decided that “I’m in charge” was almost certainly what Emma was shooting for.
As the car slowed to park at its destination, Dan didn’t know where he was or who he was about to meet. He looked out of the window and saw what looked like a factory, with a group of energetic-looking men and women in smart clothes waiting to greet him. “Who’s that?” he asked, meaning all and none of them in particular.
Timo leaned over to point at a man in the middle, who looked to be the oldest of the group. “Angelo diMasso,” he said. “MEP.”
“MEP?”
“Member of the European Parliament. It’s in Strasbourg. I’ve known Angelo for a long time. He was elected last year on an anti-austerity ticket.”
“Is he famous?” Dan asked.
“Neither famous nor powerful,” Timo said candidly. “Angelo is well-liked by those who know him, but those who know him are few. On the plus side: he is one of the only elected officials anywhere in the world to question the official narrative on extraterrestrials.”
Dan looked at Emma, then back to Timo. “Is that why we’re here?” he asked, meaning no disrespect.
“That and Cecil the lion,” Emma said.
Timo couldn’t hide his confusion but saw expressions of muted understanding on Dan and Clark’s faces.
Emma handed Dan a small card but with some bullet-point quotes he had to hit. Other than these statements, which Emma described as “crucial” and urged Dan to fit into his response however he had to, she told him to stick to the same basic lines as earlier. She would be by his side, anyway, and none of the handful of news crews in attendance were broadcasting live.
Dan looked over the bullet-points. “Why am I saying this stuff? And don’t just say Cecil the lion.”
“Remember when we watched the Coast Guard in Argentina talking about the encroachment and I told you it was brilliant? They made their point and called the US out, but they did it without escalating. That’s all we’re doing. Plus Cecil.”
“So why does the speech say “Godfrey and China”? What’s the Chinese premier’s name.”
“Ding Ziyang,” Emma said. “But that’s the point: if you have to ask, so does everyone else. That’s why we just say China. The news does it, too. Even Slater and Walker do it. They talk about each other by name all the time but only ever talk about China as a country.”
“I don’t want to suck up to Godfrey, though,” Dan said, moving on to his other misgiving. “I hate him.”
Emma shrugged. “Lay into his politics and his smugness if you want,” she said, “this crowd will eat that up, anyway. Just make sure you mention him.”
Timo stepped outside first and walked ahead with Dan. Clark stayed closely by their side while Emma kept her distance. Timo introduced Dan to his old friend Angelo diMasso who in turn introduced Dan to his political associates, whoever they were.
Dan answered soft-ball questions as Angelo showed him around the vast factory. Timo stayed outside alone, not wishing to take any of the attention from Dan and fully aware that precious few left-wing Italians were as tolerant of his excessive wealth as Angelo was.
Midway through the tour Dan asked quietly whether Angelo owned the place. Angelo looked confused and surprised that Dan hadn’t been briefed on where he was. He then explained, equally quietly, that Dan was inside the largest worker-owned factory in northern Italy.
At the end of the tour, during which many workers turned to greet either one or both of them, Angelo and Dan stood outside the building next to its large welcome sign. The cameras positioned themselves and Emma gave Dan the thumbs up to say his piece after Angelo spoke to the media in English, praising Dan’s devotion to the truth and his internationalist outlook in the face of “oppressive American forces.”
Some of Angelo’s language made Clark slightly uneasy, but he knew his role. He stood quietly beside Dan as he began to speak.
“I know that my decision to publish the contents of the Kerguelen folder angered some people in the US government,” Dan said, tackling the first of Emma’s must-say bullet-points. “But I felt a duty that went beyond considerations of what was strictly legal or what aligned with whose security interests. This is bigger than all of that, which is why I’m so glad that so many people, both at home and abroad, have been so supportive of my actions. I’m particularly grateful that elected officials have reached out, be that Angelo diMasso or William Godfrey.
“I don’t agree with any of Godfrey’s policies,” Dan qualified, making the most o
f the permission Emma granted him in this regard, “but there’s quite clearly a bigger issue at stake here. Unfortunately I was unable to accept an invitation to meet Mr Godfrey. I was also unable to accept an official invitation from the University of Technology in Nanjing, but, again, it’s heartening to know that people in China are as captivated by this leak as the rest of the world. I’m glad to have friends in so many places.”
Dan looked at his next bullet-point.
“At first I was overwhelmed to become the figurehead of such a major international issue with such huge global implications,” he said, looking back up to the cameras after reading Emma’s notes. “But not now. Now that I have my brother Clark by my side, as well as good people like Angelo and Timo — not to mention powerful governments from London to Beijing — I feel safe. To be honest, it would be hard not to feel safe with so much of the world on my side. Thanks for coming out, and viva l'Italia.”
The journalists cheered Dan’s closing line, as obviously low-hanging as the fruit was. He waved as he walked down the factory’s wide steps.
Dan and Angelo then thanked each other for the mutually beneficial hour’s work before Dan returned to the car. It was already later in the day than Dan realised, so he was glad to hear Timo’s offer of a “real Italian dinner” at his palatial home in Varese.
Dan looked out of the window on the way back to Varese, taking in the unfamiliar Italian scenery. His own words echoed through his head: “it would be hard not to feel safe with so much of the world on my side.”
Emma was right; he felt untouchable.
D minus 17
White House
Washington, D.C.
Jack Neal, having provided President Slater with the address his over-the-phone persuasion techniques managed to extract from Ben Gold, sat again at her desk.
When Slater saw the news footage of Dan McCarthy shaking hands and chatting with Angelo diMasso and his associates while Emma Ford stood behind them at the edge of the picture, she had just one question for Jack: “Why is she parading him around with Italian communists?”
Not Alone Page 39