by Barry Klemm
“And your natural response is to secrecy on the basis that the less the public knows, the better you can control them.”
Grayson laughed, reaching for a more personal tone. “You really are still the naive under-graduate at heart, Harley. Look, all we want is time to study your data and conclusions and make a broad-based decision regarding the announcement. Perhaps we will decide that your action is correct, but first we must study all aspects of the effects of any announcement.”
“The more time you have to evacuate the region, the more lives you will save.”
“You cannot just evacuate a million people without a clear idea of what you are doing. Suppose there is an error and you evacuate them into the path of the disaster—the death toll will be increased manyfold, quite unnecessarily.”
“There is no error.”
“Harley, surely you must see that we cannot take any one man’s word for this, no matter how skilful and well qualified he is. We must at least have the opportunity to consider your data and draw independent conclusions. You must also see that.”
Thyssen nodded in agreement. He was beginning to get the run of it now.
“Yes, I see that. Which is exactly why I went ahead on my own. No two scientists are going to agree on this. Only someone who knows the subject as intimately as I do can possibly reach the correct conclusion.”
“I think you underestimate your colleagues...”
“I was precisely correct last time. No one agreed with me.”
“Because no one else possessed your data. Now we do.”
It was a slip. Thyssen could see it plainly. Not a flicker of a grimace showed in Grayson’s face, but you could feel it ripple through his aura.
“Do you now?” Thyssen said provocatively.
Grayson sighed and bowed his head and when he looked up, his eyes flashed with anger.
“Yes. The facilities of Project Earthshaker have been seized and everyone involved placed under house arrest.”
“Then why are you bothering with this pleasant little chat?”
“Because we wish to retain the project and we wish to retain your input...”
Thyssen could feel the anger rising in him like bile. “But on your terms, to your agenda. I don’t think so.”
“Then the project funds will have to be withdrawn...”
“That would be idiotic,” Thyssen snapped.
“You will not raise your voice in this room!”
“You have no sensible reason for doing this. It isn’t even in your own best interests. But there’s some power to be had and you just can’t stand the idea that you don’t control it. You’ll do anything, take any risk, just to make sure that all of the power is in your hands.”
“You cannot speak to the President of the United Sates in that fashion, Professor Thyssen. Get out!” Grayson demanded. The secret service men had mysteriously appeared in the room.
Thyssen was on his feet anyway. “Well this time it won’t run for you, Mr. President! I have always distrusted governments and I have always been vindicated in doing so. This time you are out of your depth, as you will soon find to your loss and to that of thousands of others. You’re up against forces so far beyond your control that you can’t get your head around them and yet you try to dictate terms. Well you can rot in your folly for all I care!”
Nothing happened for a moment. When Thyssen was prepared to be dragged from the room, heels bumping over the carpet, shouting all the way, the secret service men had not seized him. They stood beside and behind him, ready to play their game of stacks on the mill if Thyssen made the slightest threatening gesture, but Grayson had signalled them to wait. It took some time for the President to bring himself under control—as for Thyssen, he had lost it completely and would have continued to rave had the President not roared back at him. “Please, Professor Thyssen! Listen to me!”
“You have nothing to say that I want to hear!” Thyssen thundered back.
Grayson let another pause pass, then tried again for a calmer tone. “Suppose I said you can just walk out of here.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You can go. After you’ve heard what I have to say.”
“And the project?”
“It can be fully restored at any time.”
“At what cost?”
“Only that you withhold your statements regarding the time and location of...”
“Not a chance!”
“Please listen... the location of the next eruption, just long enough to allow us to examine your data.”
“Not possible.”
“You must be reasonable, Harley. Thousands of lives are at stake.”
“Precisely. And I will not allow the political priorities of the government of the United States nor any other country to override my duty to the population of the earth as a whole. They have the right to know everything I know, as soon as I know it.”
They were heating up again, standing toe to toe now, each with his nose within inches of the others. “No individual can be permitted to dictate terms to the planet in the manner you describe!” Grayson positively yelled.
“It isn’t me dictating terms. The planet is doing that. My position is just a simple case of honesty. No secrets. Just plain honesty!” Thyssen shouted back.
“Such ill-considered honesty can be very dangerous.”
“Only to people who live by lies.”
Grayson turned away, shaking with anger. Thyssen was sweating like a horse and weak at the knees. The secret service men fidgeted and glanced desperately from one to the other. Once more, Grayson had forced a calm into his voice. His will power was formidable.
“I had hoped to avoid this, Harley, but I’m afraid we must detain you.”
“That won’t stop the information from getting out.”
“It will give us the breathing space we need, and maybe give you a bit of time to come down from your absurdly high moral ground. Once we decide to make our announcement, you will be released and allowed to continue.”
“You can’t stop the truth. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people already know.”
“Yes. You put it on the Net. We know that. We’ve put two hundred identical alternative predictions into the system alongside it.”
“You can’t keep something as big as this under wraps,” Thyssen told him.
“I can keep you and your friends under wraps,” Grayson said quietly. “That will just have to be enough.”
“There’s only me. The others can’t harm you.”
“No. But maybe some pressure on your loyal little team might just help you see reason.”
“You have no right to do this!”
“I was elected to protect the best interests of this nation, Harley. Who elected you?”
“I serve no interests. I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job is to do what I tell you!”
“My job is to present the facts in a completely disinterested manner, which I have done, and will continue to do and there isn’t a damned thing you can do to stop me.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. President?”
“Get out of here, Thyssen. Take him away and lock him up.”
“You’ll have to kill me to stop me, Grayson,” Thyssen raged, completely out of control now. As the secret service men closed in, gripped his biceps and set about removing him from the room, he yelled back over his shoulder, “Think about the political cost of that when the Shastri Effect hits California!”
That brought everything to a standstill. Grayson stood, clenching and unclenching his fists, but his look caused the secret servicemen to freeze. Thyssen, the secret servicemen holding him roughly by the arms, gazed back at the President and smiled faintly.
Grayson raised his head, his eyes shinning defiantly, his brow glistening with beads of sweat. “You’re bluffing.”
Thyssen shook his head sadly, a grim smile stretched on his face, his narrow eyes squinted as if faci
ng bright light. “The concept of truth is really alien to you isn’t it? You just don’t understand it at all.”
Grayson was right at the end of his tether. “I am the President of the United States! You can’t talk to me in this tone.”
“Which only makes you a bigger fool that everybody else!” And they were roaring like a pair of combatant dinosaurs again.
“I won’t play your game, Thyssen! I won’t call your bluff!”
“Data doesn’t bluff!”
Grayson sighed. The secret service men had Thyssen by the arms but they remained, waiting for the dismissal that never came. The President had his head bowed, his face strained with what might have been physical pain. Gradually, that effort of will forced him back under control and when he finally raised his head, he was calm again.
“Tell me about California,” he said quietly.
Thyssen grinned. “No. You cannot be trusted with that information.”
“You bastard,” Grayson thundered erratically. “So what was all that crap about the public’s right to know.”
“I tell everybody or I tell nobody. No compromise.”
Grayson sagged. He slid into his chair, his head in his hands. When he spoke it was to the security men. “It’s too late to go on with this. Take him back to the hotel. Keep him under guard.”
“That’s another advantage in always telling the truth, Eugene. You never have to make difficult decisions.”
Thyssen was walking to the door, the secret service men trailing behind. He heard Grayson’s voice pursuing him.
“Don’t let anybody talk to him. Don’t allow any harm to come to him. Don’t let anything happen concerning him, whatsoever.”
As he went through the door, Thyssen was grinning as widely as he could.
*
Joe Solomon sat behind his desk in his wheelchair that day, which he never usually did. Ordinarily, there was the well-practiced action in which he transferred himself into his executive chair which he performed without thinking these days. But that morning, it had slipped his mind and the thought amused him—a definite Freudian slip, he knew. He was staying in his wheelchair in case he needed a fast getaway, as any criminal should. Ridiculous, of course, but somehow the idea persisted as he waited for Barney Touhey to arrive. The picture of himself trundling through the office with policemen in hot pursuit was just too funny for words.
Barney arrived and didn’t notice the difference. But he did notice the worried look on Joe’s face and commented immediately on that.
“I think I’m going to be arrested,” Joe said.
“How exciting,” Barney said. “Did you do it?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“If you are about to confess to a crime, perhaps I ought to have my lawyer present.”
“Very funny.”
“Will I get to be an accessory after the fact or whatever it is?”
“You watch too much television. And I think you’d better take this seriously.”
Barney took a deep breath, forced the smile off his face, and sat ready to be serious.
Joe Solomon eyed his friend strangely. It was good to have friends who accepted you without question, even if you were wrong. That was the sort of friend he needed now.
“First,” Joe began. “You will not be implicated in any way because this conversation will never have taken place. I’ll never admit I told you and you will deny all knowledge.”
“Does that mean I leave now?”
“Lissie will take over the business here, should I get into hot water, but I don’t want him to know anything about this. I want to keep the firm’s normal business and my dubious extra-curricular activities completely separate.”
Barney nodded. He was growing very red in the face as he sat, hunched, ready for whatever horror lay ahead.
“Okay,” Joe went on. “I’m telling you because I think someone ought to know... in case something that doesn’t bear thinking about happens to me. You understand?”
“Not at all.”
“I got a call from that sinister John Cornelius character, late at night, in whispers, the full melodramatic bit. He told me that Project Earthshaker was just about to be scrapped and that Thyssen was arrested, everyone else could expect to be, and generally we were to be taken out of existence.”
“That ought to be a great relief to you.”
“Well, I didn’t believe it, of course. But I checked. Thyssen has this set-up at MIT—some of his students on computers doing his sums for him—and I called there. I got a gruff voice demanding to know who I was.”
“I see,” Barney said. “So you reckon they’ve been nabbed.”
“Exactly. And I assumed that the funds would be seized.”
“No doubt. How much are we talking about here?”
“Over ten million.”
Barney choked on his cup of tea. “That much?”
“Yes. Well, it is a very big project. And there was income. From short term investments and television rights and Andromeda’s concerts make a huge profit. I kept all that in a sort of slush fund.”
“Ten million dollar slush funds boggle the mind. I can’t imagine it.”
“There it is there,” Joe said, pointing across the office.
Barney turned in his seat and stared. Beside the shredder was a huge pile of strips. “That is the ten million?”
“More like fifteen. And no, that is the proof of the existence of the fifteen million.”
Barney gave a little shudder. In fact, Joe could see his hands were shaking.
“Do I have to ask the obvious question?”
“Well, that whole Tahiti business reminded me that there was a client of mine who died some years back but he included me as silent partner in a little off-shore deal. Quite honest. The deal ended but the array of little companies with their head office in the Christmas Islands remained. I was supposed to wipe it all out but, as I say, the guy died and I forgot.”
“So you just dropped the fifteen million in there.”
“That’s right.”
“Is there a project connected to this arrangement?”
“As fate would have it, yes. I bought a chunk of Italy for development.”
“I’ve been to Tuscany. Went there with Margo and the kids in 1984. Beautiful place.”
“This is in the south. But it apparently has a village and a convent.”
“Will you be Mother Superior?”
“Kevin Wagner is running it. He needs a base to operate and look after the sleepers and train his guards. It has an airstrip.”
“Sounds fabulous. When do we leave?”
“When I get out of prison, I suspect.”
“Is it illegal?”
“Of course. It’s embezzlement.”
“Are you sure?”
“The money does legally belong to the US Government.”
“Okay.”
They both sat for a time now, thinking about it. Clarissa poked her head in and they ordered more desperately needed tea. Neither wanted to speak as they thought through the story so far. In the end, Barney found the right question. “So why did you do this?”
“I don’t know,” Joe said with a sorrowful shrug. “I can’t believe I’ve done it. I don’t see the point of it nor the sense. But it somehow seemed like the right move. It still does, in fact.”
“So we can claim deprivation of the balance of your mind.”
“I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“We can claim that Thyssen had some demonic power over you.”
“I retain all of my doubts about that man. I distrust him and his motives. I’m sure he has his own agenda. But nevertheless it seems I felt I owed him this gigantic favour.”
Barney raised his eyebrows and offered a sly smile. “So that’s what it is. A favour.”
“I don’t know. I can’t say that my actions will be of any benefit to Thyssen nor anybody else. Maybe I’ve dumped him in the shit. It’s impossible to say.”
> “But you can’t withdraw.”
“There is no proof that I ever had any such money. How can I claim it back?”
“That was silly of you.”
“Except this?’
From his drawer, Joe lifted a compact disk and dangled it before Barney’s eyes. It was marked ‘Fire and Security Maintenance Contracts’.
“A copy.”
“Yes. A complete copy of the accounts. Put it somewhere safe, will you?”
“Won’t that implicate me?”
“Not if you think it has our security contracts on it.”
“But you don’t want to know where.”
“Nope.”
“I’ll visit you every Sunday.”
“I’ll appreciate that.”
Deep within him, Joe was feeling sad, but he was also feeling good. He was feeling clever. Only he wasn’t sure what he felt so clever about. Barney eyed him dubiously.
“So, what’s the wash-up?”
“They’ll never be able to take Project Earthshaker out of existence.”
“Is that good?”
“I thought about all those pilgrims, Barney, and how there is likely to be so many more of them. They seemed like the lost tribes to me. So I gave them somewhere to go.”
*
“Mr. Carrick, I wonder if you would be good enough to step in here?” the customs official said with a warm friendly Tahitian smile. Two large gentlemen in military uniforms and machine-pistols slung implied the consequences of non-acceptance of this kind offer. He went quietly, exhausted from his long journey, exasperated mostly by the possibility that it was all in vain.
With the Italian pilgrims safely returned to their homes, he had flown to Tahiti to try and assist Felicity in her dealings with the US Navy, but he got no further than this. He was directed into this featureless room with no windows and one door that the man locked as he left. His meagre luggage was placed neatly in the corner. There was a washbasin and mirror and behind the only other door was a toilet. The colours were soft, and lighting subtle, it was hard to recognise the room as what it was—a prison cell. The only real clue was the TV camera, watching him from high up in the corner of the room.