With his head out the window, Yoshida clearly heard the explosion as the piston blew and saw it rifle into the warehouse wall. Forgetting his mission, he rammed the shift into neutral, let out the clutch, and hauled on the parking brake. He ran to the truck and yanked open the driver’s door. The man inside sat stupefied, but apparently unhurt. Yoshida stepped up and helped the man out and over to the sidewalk.
The truck driver sat on the curb and in a reaction to shock, began to jabber his innocence of any wrongdoing.
Yoshida attempted to calm him and then noticed a stinging in his eyes and burning in his lungs. His first reaction was to glance at the truck. Then he whirled as he heard a shouting tumult behind him. A hundred yards away drivers were pouring out of their cars, and people were running frantically in both directions from a warehouse on the other side of the street. Many held handkerchiefs to their mouths or covered their eyes.
As Yoshida had been helping the driver from the truck, a window had shattered in the skylight of the warehouse. Below, an array of large cylindrical storage vessels held chlorine gas. Almost instantly, twin punctures appeared in the top and bottom of the cylinder directly beneath the skylight.
Jets of bilious yellow-green gas shot toward the ceiling and mushroomed out onto the floor. Within seconds a heavy layer of gas blanketed the warehouse. In a small office at the rear of the warehouse an employee was roused by the sound of cascading glass. He stepped out and was immediately assailed by the billowing fumes. In a panic he charged for the front door, his way blocked save for aisles among the huge containers. He tripped and fell, the pain of contact with the floor causing him a sharp intake of breath, a poisonous draft. He regained his feet and stumbled to the door, flinging it open and collapsing on the walk outside in a spasm of coughing. The dense gas flowed out the door and seeped around the choking figure.
Down the street, Yoshida could not identify the particular agent that assaulted his eyes and lungs, but he reacted to the shouts of gas! He joined the fleeing crowd racing among the stalled cars and trucks toward fresh air.
Thursday morning Isaacs raced into the office. There was a cable. Something had happened in Nagasaki! The reports were vague, fragmented. A gas leak. One person dead. He didn’t know what he had expected, but not this tantalizing irrelevancy. It was the right time and place; it had to be connected. But what did a gas leak have to do with their strange signal? Was there some puncture, like the Novorossiisk? He stole some moments with Danielson, and they agreed they had to concoct some way to get more information on the specifics. What had leaked? How? He felt a rise of panic. He needed time to think, to assimilate this, to plan, but there was none.
He returned to the mass of data culled from the signal intercepts of the Russian laser and hunter-killer satellites. He was supposed to be thinking like a Russian, anticipating them, but his mind was swimming with thoughts of Nagasaki when Kathleen put through the call from the Director.
It froze him to his chair, an ice storm raging through him.
He had been found out!
Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue: Three Years Later
History of Publication
About the Film
About the Author
Other Books by the Author
1
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The Krone Experiment
J. Craig Wheeler
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They knew everything. QUAKER. Nagasaki. Somehow McMasters had gotten onto him.
He was to report to the Director’s office at nine the following morning. His hand shook as he replaced the phone on the hook.
Isaacs fought to quell the churning in his bowels. He had not been so angry and frightened at one time since he’d been hauled before the principal in the third grade. He and a friend had been throwing rocks during recess, in violation of one of the strictest rules. His friend had broken the window, but he had run, leaving Isaacs to be caught with a stone in his hand. This was no schoolyard prank, however; this was the big time. He turned the knob and entered the room.
The Director of Central Intelligence motioned curtly for him to take a seat across from his desk. Isaacs did so, avoiding the venomous green eyes of McMasters who was already stationed at the opposite corner of the desk.
“Mr. Isaacs,” Drefke began. “I can’t express how shocked I am at the charges that have accumulated against you.” He spread his hand on the folder on his desk. “A man of your status and record. This is not petty malfeasance. I don’t want to overreact, but some of your recent behavior could be regarded as verging on treason.”
This word brought a wisp of smile to McMasters’ lips.
Drefke opened the file and scanned down it. “Unauthorized use of restricted computer data. Unauthorized consultation with Jason. Unauthorized access to field agents. Unauthorized use of photoreconnaissance facilities.” He looked hard at Isaacs, then clenched his fist in frustration. He wanted to work with the President on global issues, not to be involved with awkward disciplinary questions. Why had McMasters let these internal affairs get out of hand? What the hell did Isaacs think he was doing?
“Good Lord, man,” he spoke aloud. “Do you realize that on this basis alone I have virtually no choice but to ask for your resignation? And not just you, but Deputy Director Martinelli and this woman, uh, Danielson? They’ve conspired with you. Have you any idea of the turmoil in the Agency if I’m forced to let you all go?”
Isaacs started to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.
“What’s that?” demanded Drefke.
Isaacs tried again. “I said you can leave Martinelli and Danielson out of this. I coerced them.”
“You may want to leave them out now, but it’s too late,” McMasters’ voice was cool and smooth in his victory. Isaacs refused to look at him. “They allowed themselves to become involved. They must suffer the consequences.”
Damn my eyes, thought Isaacs. Danielson was bad enough; her low status is some protection since I can say I ordered her. But I shouldn’t have involved Martinelli. Photos from the U-2’s altitude relayed from a special scanner by satellite link showed virtually nothing useful anyway.
Drefke had his hand over his eyes, looking inward to struggle with the enormity of the final issue.
“How could you,” he removed his hand to stare at Isaacs in pain and anger, “how could you meet with them, the head of the Washington KGB, for chrissake, to reveal the President’s tactics in the confrontation over the new laser in Cosmos 2231? What could possibly induce you to sell out? To put the whole future of our control and use of space in jeopardy? And in such an obvious way?”
“Have you been one of them all along?” McMasters asked calmly.
Drefke glared at him and Isaacs exploded. “No! Goddamnit! I’m not one of them! I’ve sold out nothing! You don’t understand!”
“Understand?” asked McMasters quietly. “We have the interchange with Zamyatin on tape. It’s quite damning.”
Tape! So the bastard had me under surveillance, Isaacs thought. He continued to speak to Drefke. “If you recorded that session in his limousine then you know that whole crazy episode was Zamyatin’s idea.”
“The recordings are incomplete for technical reasons,” McMasters purred, “but there was enough to show your perfidy. You failed to report the contact. There is nothing to suggest you were not a willing accomplice in this conspiracy. We have only your word for that.”
“But you have m
y word,” Isaacs shot the oath at McMasters, looking directly at him for the first time. McMasters stiffened, but could not summon the strength of mind to voice a contradiction.
Isaacs used the opening.
“Sir,” he addressed Drefke, “you said yourself the meeting with Zamyatin was an absurd way to sell out. Surely it’s obvious that if I were really cooperating with the Soviets, I wouldn’t do so in so stupid a fashion?”
Drefke gave a small nod. He didn’t understand, but he knew that if a man like Isaacs turned, he would be damned difficult to catch. He certainly would not be hitching rides with the local KGB to exchange tidbits.
Isaacs continued, “I won’t deny that my actions precipitated the meeting, but it was all Zamyatin’s idea. He didn’t think I could or would respond through official channels. Whether he thought or cared that I would be in hot water if he snatched me off the street, I don’t know.
“If you will hear me out, I would like to try to explain. You recognize that my recent behavior is not only at odds with Agency policy, but also with my own record and methods. We are all involved in some very odd circumstances. These peculiar circumstances have forced me to extreme lengths. I think the peril was confirmed two days ago in Nagasaki, but we still don’t understand—that’s the major problem.”
“Ah, Nagasaki,” Drefke leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps you can tell me what the hell went on there.”
“I can tell you the background. The details are in this memo.”
Isaacs extracted an envelope from his pocket and pushed it across the desk to Drefke.
“Mr. McMasters has a previous version of it.”
“Oh? I wasn’t informed of that.”
“In my considered opinion,” McMasters said uncomfortably, “Mr. Isaacs has constructed a tissue of fantasy. What little merit there was to the case was not Agency business. I did not and do not believe there was any rationale to violate Agency regulations in the manner summarized there.” He nodded at the file on Drefke’s desk.
“I see,” said Drefke. He didn’t, but he was beginning to.
“Mr. Isaacs, may I ask why you did not proceed according to regulation if you had some concern?”
Isaacs looked him squarely in the eye.
“I was ordered not to.”
“By McMasters here.”
“That’s correct.”
“His request was ill-considered and inappropriate to the function of the Agency,” McMasters said stiffly.
“Mr. McMasters is your superior,” Drefke said to Isaacs.
“Yes, sir.”
“You not only disobeyed him; you violated a number of Agency regulations to do so.”
McMasters relaxed a little. Precisely so, he thought.
Drefke regarded the two men before him, sensing the tension between them. McMasters ran a tight ship on internal affairs. That freed Drefke to concern himself with the large issues. Isaacs had risen rapidly with an excellent record. Two such men could come to legitimate disagreement on occasion. In this business, McMasters was acting true to form, but Isaacs’ behavior had been bizarre, completely out of character. Was Isaacs’ aberrant behavior to be stopped short and penalized for the greater good of a smooth-functioning Agency, or did he actually see something that McMasters, the narrow-minded authoritarian, couldn’t perceive? If McMasters were right, Isaacs was a damnable nuisance. If Isaacs were right?
“You were going to tell me about Nagasaki,” Drefke said to Isaacs. McMasters shifted uncomfortably.
“This all goes back to the Soviet carrier, the Novorossiisk,” Isaacs said.
“The Novorossiisk?”
“That’s right. You know what followed from that. An escalating conflict in space.”
“If you’re implying all that has been Agency business, I’m quite aware of the fact, thank you,” said Drefke drily.
“But you don’t know what happened to the Novorossiisk. What started it all.”
“No,” Drefke said slowly. “But does it matter now?”
“It matters for two reasons. An understanding of the origin of these affairs may help put a cap on them. And what happened to the Novorossiisk may be the greater question.”
“Greater than nuclear or beam warfare in space?” Drefke asked incredulously.
“Ridiculous,” McMasters said, backing him up.
“I have no proof yet, but I’m sure Nagasaki and the Novorossiisk are closely linked. Nagasaki is another clue to the ultimate problem. The current danger is the unknown. The Soviets feel that, too. They don’t know what happened to the Novorossiisk either.”
“Why did Zamyatin pick on you anyway?”
Isaacs paused. This could be crucial, if it weren’t already on the tapes.
“I wrote a letter to Academician Korolev,” Isaacs said, “describing my fears about the Novorossiisk.”
“You what?” Drefke almost shouted.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” McMasters blurted simultaneously.
“You’ve got to see we’re on the same side on this one,” Isaacs protested.
“But you can’t go discussing Agency affairs with the top brains in the Kremlin!” Drefke said, exasperated.
“According to Mr. McMasters, this wasn’t an Agency affair,” Isaacs said.
“Well, any security matter then,” Drefke said, but he calmed down, granting Isaacs the point.
“I felt something had to be done,” Isaacs persisted. “I sent a memo to Korolev similar to the one I gave Mr. McMasters, outlining the series of circumstances that led to my concern. Zamyatin saw that letter. I told you they’re still worried about the Novorossiisk. That’s what we talked about.”
“You talked about the Cosmos 2231 and our nuclear deterrent,” McMasters said meanly.
“Only briefly, and in a completely different context from what you’d like to believe,” Isaacs snapped. He turned to Drefke.
“Korolev has used my letter to argue that we did not initiate the Novorossiisk business. Zamyatin told me that my letter convinced the Soviets to keep a cap on the confrontation over the Cosmos. That’s all we said about it. And Zamyatin did most of the talking.”
“So they’re worried,” Drefke said.
“Yes, they are.”
“You still haven’t told me what exactly happened at Nagasaki.”
“Pat Danielson assembled a variety of data that have shown that some force or influence is moving through the Earth in a very regular way. I think that influence damaged the Novorossiisk, sank the USS Stinson that was sent by the Navy to investigate the phenomenon, and did the damage in Nagasaki.”
Drefke started to speak, but Isaacs continued intensely.
“We don’t know what’s going on; that’s what frightens me. That’s what has caused me to do all these things you think are so crazy. But this thing is dangerous. It’s real. It’s predictable. Pat Danielson predicted where and when there would be damage in Nagasaki. She has predicted a similar fate for Dallas in a little over two weeks. This thing, whatever it is, will keep on causing death and destruction until we determine what it is!”
Isaacs leaned back, spent.
Drefke tried to absorb this diatribe. He didn’t understand at all. But Isaacs was either sincere and committed, or he was insane. Could his insanity be contagious, caught by the Russians? What the hell was going on? Was this a good man gone around the bend? Or was here an issue of great magnitude on which he could truly serve his President? He would have loved to kick the whole thing to McMasters, but he perceived that, in ways he did not yet fully comprehend, McMasters was part of the problem. Besides, the involvement of the Russians smacked of truly global issues, not simple internal bickering. The only good decision now was no decision.
“Mr. Isaacs, I don’t understand all that you have been trying to tell me. Not by a long shot. And the fact remains that there is a prima facie case against you for violating Agency regulations as well as good common sense.” He paused and picked up Isaacs’ memo.
“But I think
perhaps I should read this document of yours before deciding what to do about you and the others.”
The tone of dismissal hung in the air for a long moment until Isaacs and McMasters finally shuffled their chairs and got to their feet. There was an awkward moment at the door as they each tried to ignore the other, which prevented signals as to who should go first. Finally, Isaacs stepped back and gave a brief gesture. McMasters charged through. Isaacs waited until McMasters passed the outer doorway and then slowly closed Drefke’s door behind him.
Drefke got up and walked to the window. He looked out for a long time, hands clasped behind his back. Then he took his seat and pulled the typewritten pages from the envelope Isaacs had left him. He began to read.
Robert Isaacs resigned himself to the fact that the situation was out of his hands. Under the terms of his partial suspension awaiting the outcome in Dallas, he could not engage in policy decisions, so for the next two weeks he busied himself with routine things neglected in the recent press of events. To his relief the confrontation with the Russians cooled. The fragile status quo held. On the final weekend before Dallas, he arranged for his daughter Isabel to stay with a friend and convinced Muriel to spend the time with him sailing on the Chesapeake.
Pat Danielson spent the two week period in an agonized limbo. She, too, went about her duties, but the upcoming event that would profoundly affect her career was never very far from her mind. Some mysterious force would push through the Earth six hundred times, she mused, while she chewed her nails, waiting for it to hit Dallas. In a way, she was glad that Drefke had explicitly forbidden both Isaacs and her from going to Dallas, as well as from exercising any other connection to Project QUAKER. She recognized the great likelihood of futility, but knew that if the trip were not proscribed she would have gone to Dallas to try to see something, anything, that would give a clue to the force that would erupt there.
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