The Tenth Cycle: A Thriller (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 1)

by JC Ryan

  "Yes, Mr. President. The sooner the better."

  "Announce a press conference for four this afternoon. Prepare something generic that says we're looking into it, everyone stay calm. I'll use that if I haven't found out something more substantial. And have some writers on hand just after lunch. I've called a meeting for ten-thirty, and by noon we should have some idea of what's going on."

  "That sounds like a good plan, Mr. President."

  "That's why they pay me the big bucks," grinned Harper, a multi-millionaire in his own right who had taken a substantial pay cut to become the President of the United States.

  Bertrand, meanwhile, had rousted the two Directors and within the hour discovered that Assistant CIA director Samuel Lewis already had some information about the Rosslerites, and indeed had known something of the story that was causing such a ruckus. After calling Lewis and dressing him down for not alerting the President, Bertrand demanded that Lewis locate the Rosslerites and make arrangement for the President to contact them right away. Lewis called Luke, who called his old friend, who contacted Akiva Beckman. Assured that the information would be kept strictly confidential, a phone number in Israel was passed back up the same line, eventually reaching the Director of the CIA, who promptly made his way to the Oval Office with it.

  "Where are they?" the President demanded.

  "Israel, Sir," answered the Director, who was a little worried about his job, since he had known nothing of all this. He was going to have to clean house the first chance he had, because evidently his people had been playing fast and loose with their brief. They weren't even supposed to be running operations within the borders. He especially needed to talk with his Assistant, and by Hector, the man better have a good explanation for keeping this under his hat.

  "Why the hell are they in Israel?" Harper barked. "Aren't they Americans?"

  "Yes, Sir. Apparently they had some concerns about their safety."

  "All right, I'm going to want the whole story in a minute. But first, I need to call these people. Bertrand, get in here and help me with this damned phone system."

  ~~~

  Into the sound and fury that reigned in the server room came the old-fashioned ring of a land-line telephone. Everyone looked around for the set, which no one had used in this room since they arrived in the villa. Not finding it, they spread out, but the ringing stopped. They were all unsettled about the missed call until Daniel spied Rachel running down the hall with a handset in her outstretched hand.

  "Mr. Rossler, it, it, here..."

  Daniel took the set, frowning with bewilderment at the agitated housekeeper. "Hello," he said.

  "Mr. Daniel Rossler?" queried the voice on the other end of the line.

  "Yes."

  "This is the President of the United States of America. You seem to have dropped a bombshell, young man."

  Daniel almost dropped the phone. The President! Calling personally...and how had he obtained this number?

  "Yes, Mr. President, so it seems."

  "I trust that you and the lovely Ms. Clarke are loyal citizens of your country?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "May I ask why you chose to make this announcement from Israel?"

  Daniel's blood chilled a little when he realized that the President obviously knew their location. If the US knew, then so did other countries, maybe some that weren't so friendly. Not to mention the Orion Society. Carefully, he answered, "Mr. President, I'd like to respectfully refer you to the head of the CIA for the answer to that question."

  "Are you implying that the CIA has been involved in something that gave you reason to believe you weren't safe?"

  "Yes, Sir, Mr. President."

  A heavy sigh was transmitted across the line. "Very well, I will speak to them. But I'd like to congratulate you on your discovery, and say how proud I am that Americans were the ones to break the code."

  "Sir, it took a great deal of effort, and not all of us are as American as you seem to think. Our data analyst is a naturalized citizen, but was born in India. I want to emphasize that we feel the discovery belongs to the world, not just the US."

  "I'd very much like to have a conversation with you face-to-face, Mr. Rossler. May I send Air Force One to bring you home?"

  "Mr. President, thank you very much for the offer. But, for reasons I'll be happy to explain in person, we are not prepared to leave our present location. We're under the protection of the Israeli government, and that will stay the same until certain arrangements can be made. We're willing to meet with you, but only on our terms."

  President Harper's voice was a little colder, almost dangerous, when he responded with deceptive mildness, "And what would those be, Mr. Rossler?"

  "Mr. President I don’t know if you are aware what has driven us into this position. If you will allow me I will give you a very brief overview. I hope you will be able to understand our caution.”

  “Please go ahead. It seems to me there is lot I don’t know that I should have known,” said the President, looking across the room at Bertrand who appeared very uncomfortable.

  “Mr. President some of our friends and colleagues were murdered during the course of our research, my grandparents were taken hostage and Dr. Clarke was kidnapped and almost killed. For most of this time we were under the so called protection of a CIA agent who we have now learned has been working for an international organization with malicious intent.

  “For the last few months since our friend Dr. Mark Simms was killed we were under constant threat, right up to the last day in the USA, when we narrowly escaped with people in a helicopter shooting at us, trying to kill us and wounding one of our team members in the hand. If it were not for the help of our current hosts we would all be dead by now.

  “We want to know why, and we want the killers and perpetrators found and punished. It's our understanding that the CIA agent who was presumably protecting us and was recently killed while in CIA custody has been working for a secret organization called The Orion Society. What can you do to help us find our friend's murderer? Finally, Mr. President it was a big shock to find out that this CIA agent was actually just waiting for us to translate the code and then kill us as well."

  “Rossler I swear I knew nothing about any of this. I am shocked and ashamed to learn that we could not provide you the protection you and your group needed when you needed it. I promise you I will investigate this and heads will roll.

  “Having said that, I still have to meet with you and your group and I now understand why you don’t want to leave Israel. I am happy to listen to your conditions.”

  "As I said, we won't leave safe haven. You'll have to come here if you want to talk face-to-face, otherwise it'll have to be by video hookup. Whatever the format or the venue of the meeting we'd like you to bring some people with you. The head of the CIA, because we've got some questions for him. Leaders and opposition leaders of both houses of Congress. We won't give this information to one political party, or even one country, alone. It needs to be distributed fairly and in a balanced way."

  "Go on." If Daniel noticed the ice dripping from the President's tone, he didn't remark on it. Instead, he went on, improvising as he spoke. "We'll have the meeting recorded, and both your party and ours will have copies so the record can't be misinterpreted after the fact. Sorry, Sir, but we have prior experience of what happens when you can't document something. Nothing personal."

  "No offense taken," came the dry answer.

  “Is there anything else?"

  "I can't think of anything at the moment, Sir."

  "I'll be in touch."

  Daniel let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding after the call was disconnected. The others were all looking at him with curiosity, having heard only part of the conversation, but enough to understand what had just happened.

  "Well if Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, then the mountain must go to Mohammed. It looks like we may have some high ranking company very soon.”

  In Washing
ton, an irked President Harper called his Chief of Staff back into the room. "Who are these people? How did they get the protection of the Israeli government? Why could we not protect them? Why is the CIA involved and not the FBI? Why is it that they seem prepared for every eventuality? Get the FBI on this immediately. I want full background reports for everyone involved and you better make sure you don’t miss anything I am supposed to know about them."

  "Yes, Sir."

  It was a testament to the seriousness with which the President took the situation that only three days after the phone call, Daniel received another from the Chief of Staff, detailing the plans. With the cooperation of the Israeli government, the President would make an official visit, concealing that he would be meeting with the Rossler Foundation. Over the course of several days, he would be wined and dined by the President of Israel and he, along with the leaders of the Senate and House of Representatives, would meet with leaders of the Knesset. All to put up a smoke screen for their meeting, which would take place in the villa. Before the President arrived, though, a team of Secret Service agents would scour the villa for weapons, bugs and anything else they might consider dangerous.

  The Chief of Staff gave Daniel to understand that the whole charade would be tremendously expensive, apparently in an attempt to intimidate him. Daniel let it roll off his back. The meeting was to take place on a Thursday, the soonest that all arrangements could be put in place. What Bertrand didn't tell Daniel, was that the President's staff, courtesy of the FBI, now knew everything about the Rosslerites, right down to the color of Sarah’s underwear, the recipe for Martha’s oatmeal cookies and Daniel's first grade marks. And what Bertrand didn't know, was that one very important trait of Daniel's was somehow missed; his legendary powers of persuasion.

  With little to do, now that the secret was published and they were just waiting for the right time to go home, the group persuaded Daniel to request some entertainment from Baruch. The women wanted to see Jerusalem, in particular. Sinclair wanted to interview several linguists at the university, with an eye to hiring help as soon as their non-profit status came through. Accordingly, Baruch was notified, and came through with flying colors. Tours and shopping trips were arranged, all under the still-watchful eyes of his agents, but everyone agreed that the threat had become moot when the secrets were published.

  Evenings were spent in the swimming pool, but even soaking until they turned pruny left several hours to fill. One night, Martha asked if anyone could play any of the instruments in the music room. Sarah was hesitant to confess to it, but she was a near concert-quality pianist. Daniel played passable guitar. Martha declared 'live karaoke night' and organized the whole evening, asking each member of the group what they'd like to perform and downloading sheet music from the internet if they asked for it. When it came to Sinclair, he declared that all he knew was Celtic ditties, but Martha said he'd have to participate, so he named one that was a particular favorite, The Old Dun Cow. Innocently, Martha agreed it would be fine.

  When the evening came, everyone was in fine spirits, particularly Sinclair, who'd imbibed some liquid spirits in anticipation of his performance. Sarah played and sang beautifully, offering her namesake Sarah McLaughlin's Arms of an Angel. Because she was so good, the others balked until Martha threatened to withhold her special surprise, an apple pie that she'd persuaded Ilana to allow her to bake in the kitchen. Then, they each sang in turn, with either Sarah or Daniel accompanying them on their respective instruments. Finally, it was Sinclair's turn. Somewhat red in the face from fortifying his courage, he began, a cappella because no music had been found. The song was hilarious, telling the bawdy story of a pub that caught fire and how all the patrons took the opportunity to go to the basement and drink all the barrels of beer. By the time he'd sung four verses, everyone was joining in on the chorus, especially on the repeated 'McIntyre':

  And there was Brown upside down

  Lappin'' up the whiskey on the floor.

  "Booze, booze!" The firemen cried

  As they came knockin' on the door (clap clap)

  Oh don't let 'em in till it's all drunk up

  And somebody shouted MacIntyre! MACINTYRE!

  And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk

  When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.

  The last verse brought the house down, everyone declaring the evening's entertainment the most fun they'd had in many months. Sinclair forgot himself and seized Martha for an exuberant kiss, which, to the amusement of the others, she returned before pounding on his arms to let her go.

  ~~~

  On the appointed day, a cavalcade of black SUVs with tinted windows and no identifying marks arrived at the gates of the villa wall, and was duly ushered in by Secret Service agents who had arranged with the Mossad guards to be inside for the day. One by one, they discharged their passengers under the watchful eyes of more agents. The passengers were shown into the villa after each was obliged to show identification, even though the agents checking them knew the four men and one woman on sight. Finally, a slender man whose relatively youthful face belied his silver shock of hair emerged and was greeted at the door. "Welcome, Mr. President. Everything is in order."

  On hand for the meeting were the guests; President Nigel Harper, head of the CIA Westley Parkins, and the requested heads of both the leadership and opposition of both houses of Congress. In addition, behind the scenes were the Chief of Staff, on hand to smooth any difficulties, and a supervisor for the army of Secret Service agents who swarmed the place. The regular villa staff had been replaced by a hand-picked butler and chef, who would serve lunch to the party when they took a break.

  Daniel, as host of the meeting, deferred to his President to begin, after introducing the Rosslerite party and in turn being told the names of the politicians and CIA head.

  "Well, Mr. Rossler, first let me say again that we are all very proud that Americans, even those who have adopted our country," he said, with a nod toward Raj, "have made such an important discovery. We're also proud that, rather than profit tremendously yourselves, you have pledged to the world that these discoveries are to be distributed fairly."

  "Thank you, Mr. President," Daniel said, as CEO and spokesperson of the Foundation, unless someone else's expertise was needed or they were addressed specifically.

  "However," Harper continued, "For reasons of national security, we must insist that you turn all of this over to your government."

  Daniel began to shake his head in unison with the rest of the team, but the President wasn't finished. "Mr. Rossler, think for a moment. This is far too big for a small group of individuals to handle. You're going to need money, resources, that aren't available outside a major government entity. Furthermore, I understand that the first thing you've released is the plans for a fusion generator. Don't you realize how dangerous that could be in the wrong hands? You're out of your depth. You'll all be well-compensated for your roles in the discovery; in fact, name your price. Every man has his price."

  Shock ran around the half of the table occupied by the Rosslerites. This wasn't at all what they'd expected, to be insulted, although Raj and Sinclair each thought they should have seen it coming. Daniel struggled for an answer that wouldn't be considered rude, then decided that since the demand was rude, he needn't bother to mince words. Looking around at his people, he saw that they were as irritated at the President's high-handed speech as he was. A small smile played around his lips as he thought of the answer he'd like to give, an expression he'd picked up from an Australian colleague while he was embedded with the Marines in Afghanistan, "Mate, not as long as you got a hole in your arse."

  However, he curbed his whimsy, answering instead, "Absolutely not."

  Now it was Harper's turn for shock. As President of the United States, he was not accustomed to being thwarted in such an abrupt way, though the media often had harsh words for him. His eyes narrowed, and the Congressional members of his party waited in anticipation of the firestorm they could se
e coming. The opposition party was rather enjoying the President's discomposure, but they, too, expected cooperation in this matter. Sarah regarded her fiancé with an odd expression as well, making a mental note to ask him what he was smiling about.

  "I beg your pardon?" The President feigned that he hadn't heard, or hadn't understood. His words were intended as a mild threat.

  "We will not turn over any information to one country alone, Mr. President. I thought I made that clear when we spoke on the phone."

  "Young man, do you understand that we can and will get it, with or without your cooperation? Surely it would be best for you and your colleagues to at least benefit financially from your discovery. How can you speak for them? Put it to a vote."

  Daniel looked at his colleagues, who were all shaking their heads. "We already have, Sir. I think you can see their answer. Mr. President, all of us love our country. We want to go home. But, we will not be intimidated, nor will we stray from our course. This knowledge belongs to the world, and the world shall have it. That includes the United States, but it isn't for her alone. I must warn you that if you force our hand, we have already prepared to publish the methods we're using and the raw data to the internet before you even leave this compound.

  Daniel was playing the biggest bluff of his life while continuing, “The information is all in the hands of our lawyer with instructions to push the “publish” button if we don’t reach agreement today.” The team saw that and played along with poker faces and nodding heads.

  “Every country in the world, including some neither of us wants to have it, will be able to translate the records and use them as they see fit. We don't want to do it that way, we have a plan in place to distribute it fairly and responsibly. We will not be intimidated by you or any other government, and we won't allow this to disturb the balance of power. We're happy to work with you on a solution, but not one that sees the US as the sole owner of these records. They were left for the entire world."

  Sarah, gazing with adoration and pride at her Daniel, thought he'd never looked so noble. His chin raised in defiance, a spark of righteous indignation in his eye, he looked to her more Presidential than the President, who was dressed and pampered like an actor. She glanced at Harper to compare again and noticed he was visibly deflating, his shoulders drooping and a resigned look on his face. She thought, good heavens! Daniel has just handed the President a large slice of humble pie, and it looks like he's going to eat it!