Sam smiled, sardonically. “Not the whole truth, simply that we needed the helicopter to locate something regarding your abduction. The Secretary of Defense still wants us to find out as much as we can about the Master Builders. It’s a matter of national security that we stay ahead of them.”
“You think she’ll buy it?”
“Not for a minute.”
Chapter Thirty
47th Street, Manhattan – Diamond District.
Sam approached the address the Secretary had given him on foot, after traveling from the airport to the Diamond District by taxi. She’d told him the building where they’d meet was just one block north of the famous 47th Street stretch of diamond commerce. He’d walked along 47th Street from 5th Avenue to 6th, and then gratefully turned north after dodging dozens of hawkers claiming to have the best deals on diamonds if he’d only follow them.
Sam wasn’t in the market for a diamond, nor much in the mood for hawkers. The Secretary’s summons had, as usual, come at a time when he had important business elsewhere. Furthermore, she knew he did, and she knew just how important and urgent it was. He could only assume this was just as important and urgent. Why the meeting had to take place at a gemstone appraisal lab was beyond his understanding.
When he arrived and stated his name, the receptionist rose and had him follow her to a room where he found the Secretary waiting. The room was clearly a laboratory, with microscopes, spectroscopes, a jeweler’s loupe, and various other tools and electronic equipment that he couldn’t identify. With the Secretary was a small, elderly man who resembled Albert Einstein, with a shock of wild, wiry, white hair, a bulbous nose, and a pair of thick, black-framed glasses that looked two sizes too large for him.
“Mr. Reilly, thanks for finally joining us,” the Secretary greeted him.
He turned his palms upward. “I came as soon as I could…”
She didn’t let him finish. “This is Simon Greenfeld, an eminent gemologist. He has confirmed what I’m about to tell you.” She turned to the older man. “Mr. Greenfeld, please give us the room.”
Greenfeld had not spoken, nor acknowledged Sam in any way. He gave an odd little bow to the Secretary and left the room without any apparent reaction to how strange it was that someone could dismiss him from his own laboratory. The Secretary waited until the door had closed, and then brought her hand forward, palm up. In it lay an uncut diamond half the size of a chicken’s egg.
“Wow, nice stone,” Sam said. “What is it?”
“That’s potentially one of the world’s most valuable diamonds,” the Secretary answered.
Sam looked at her face. She hadn’t cracked a smile since he walked in. “That’s great news. So, who’s the lucky guy?”
The Secretary ignored his comment. “Two weeks ago, it turned up on the New York diamond exchange, with an estimated value of one hundred million dollars.”
“Wow,” he repeated, this time genuinely. “And they let you walk out of the shop with it?”
“Well, it would have been, if it was real.” The Secretary laid the stone on the lab counter and folded her arms.
“It’s a fake?”
“Yes and no.”
“Really?” Sam smiled. “I figured it either is or it isn’t, right?”
“Technically, it’s real. It has the same properties as a diamond that was formed by heat and pressure deep in the Earth. However, that isn’t the way this one was formed. You might have heard of synthetic, or lab-grown, diamonds?”
“Sure. They use them for industrial purposes.”
“Right,” she confirmed. “They’ve also been growing them for the jewelry industry for more than twenty years, and it takes real expertise to distinguish them from mined diamonds.”
“I thought fake diamonds could be easily distinguished.”
“You’re talking about diamond simulants, like cubic zirconia or moissanite. They are different chemical compounds from diamond. This stone, other than the way it was formed, is indistinguishable chemically from a natural diamond.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for that. So, what’s your interest in all this?”
“Well, first, even though it’s technically real, as a synthetic diamond, its true value is only about sixty percent of a natural diamond.”
“Why?”
“Mainly because of the natural diamond industry. They have created a mystique and romance around natural diamonds that has inflated their value even more than centuries of people coveting them for their beauty. And that’s despite the troubling human rights issues that have come to light about diamonds.”
“Blood diamonds, you mean,” Sam observed.
“Yes. And the fact that they’re still being used to fund terrorism in some parts of the world, despite the industry’s efforts to clean up their sources.”
“So, back to this diamond,” Sam prompted. “Someone attempted to pass it off as a real, or natural diamond. That’s fraud. Why is that of interest to the Defense Department?”
“Not just this one. There have been more than two hundred sold throughout the world – all perfect diamonds. Together they’re worth billions of dollars, and all of them fake.”
“Madam Secretary, what’s your interest?” he persisted.
She continued as though she hadn’t heard or wasn’t interested in his question. “Unlike synthetic diamonds that are grown in a laboratory, these are nearly impossible to distinguish from the genuine version.”
“Okay.”
“The process works by placing a tiny fragment of diamond, called a carbon seed, into a microwave along with varying amounts of a carbon-heavy gas, most commonly methane. The gas mixture is heated to very high temperatures in the microwave to produce a plasma ball, and inside this, the gas breaks down and the carbon atoms crystallize and accumulate on the diamond seed, causing it to grow.”
“How long does it take?”
“The process can take up to ten weeks to produce a marketable diamond, but it works so well, experts reportedly need a machine to tell the lab-grown gems apart from natural ones sourced from mines or riverbeds.”
“But they can still tell the difference?” Sam asked.
“Until recently they could. But now there’s a third type. We suspect they’re being made through a carbon seeding process, but are being planted within the thousands of recent growing craters in Siberia.”
A wry smile of understanding formed on Sam’s lips. “The melting permafrost releases enormous amounts of carbon in the form of methane and someone with a high-powered microwave is turning them into high quality diamonds?”
“Exactly.” The Secretary of Defense sighed. “And in the process, the diamonds formed become indistinguishable with flawless diamonds mined from the Earth.”
He still didn’t understand how any of this was related to him, but the mystery had aroused his curiosity. “Then how do you know this is happening?”
“Because more than a hundred of these have hit the market in the past two weeks.”
“I thought the diamond trade was massive?” Sam said. “How does a hundred or so of these stones have the power to collapse the market?”
“These aren’t every day diamonds being released into the world for a tiny fraction of their usual value. Think of the Kohinoor – the most precious gem in the British Crown Jewels, stored in the London Tower. It’s one of a kind. No one has ever come close to finding such a perfect diamond of its size. Now imagine a hundred of them flooding the market. The diamond trade is about to crash irrevocably.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Sam asked.
“I need you to find out who’s making the diamonds. We know that whoever he or she is, has been working in Siberia, where the craters are popping up daily.”
“You’re telling me that the Secretary of Defense of the United States has an interest in the overly inflated price of diamonds in the New York diamond district remaining inflated. And I’m to do the job of the police, or Customs, or the CIA — w
hoever is responsible for stopping international criminal activity.” Sam stated it in a flat tone that expressed his disapproval.
“I don’t care. The country cares.”
“Why?”
She looked at him, as though unsure how much to tell. “There’s a man named Leo Botkin. He owns a number of diamond mines throughout the world. He has the most to lose here.”
“So? I mean, it’s not very nice, but since when has the government concerned itself with how companies like this do their business? If the market’s changed and the general public are happy for it, why not let it happen?”
“You misunderstand me, Reilly.” She smiled. “I don’t care if Leo Botkin and the entire diamond cartel goes bankrupt.”
“Then why look for this diamond-smith?”
She sighed. “Because the enemy of my enemy might just be the ally I need right now.”
Sam thought about it for a moment. “Why do you think this person is targeting Botkin specifically? He or she could just as easily be out to get the entire diamond industry. Maybe their relative or family were killed over blood diamonds in Africa, who knows?”
“No. Whoever it was has the means and know-how to target Leo Botkin specifically. More importantly, he or she is willing to overcome mountains and move oceans just to destroy the man.”
“What do you know?” Sam asked, suddenly intensely curious about what he was missing.
“Hurricane Hilda came straight toward Manhattan last week. It was reported to nearly hit the city, and then at the last minute, turned ninety degrees and headed north toward the Hamptons where it was responsible for the destruction of just one house – Leo Botkin’s 23,000 square-foot mansion.”
Sam grinned, and his eyes filled with incredulity. “Next you’re going to tell me this mysterious person was using old HAARP technology to manipulate the weather.”
The Secretary of Defense set her jaw firm, and fixed her steely green eyes at him. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Sam breathed in deeply. He could taste the tension in the air. It wasn’t like the Secretary of Defense to ever reveal state secrets. He glanced at her face. A gentle crack seemed to form in her once impenetrable resolve.
“Are we safe to speak here?” he asked.
“Yes. This place is more secure than any office at the Pentagon.”
“Okay.” He exhaled slowly and waited.
She met his eye, and said, “The High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program, known as HAARP, was initiated as an ionospheric research program jointly funded by the U.S. Air Force, the U.S. Navy, the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. Its original purpose was to analyze the ionosphere and investigate the potential for developing ionospheric enhancement technology for radio communications and surveillance. It has not, and never will be used for anything related to weather control.”
“HAARP controlling the weather was a whole bunch of conspiracy theorist propaganda, nothing more.” Sam shook his head. “So, what was controlling the weather?”
“When the conspiracy theorists argued that HAARP was artificially producing differential heating areas of the atmosphere, which could induce local weather conditions such as floods or droughts to militarize the weather, the onus of proof landed directly on the Defense Department.” The Secretary of Defense grimaced. “By the time the U.N. received more than a thousand complaints regarding weather manipulation, the U.N. issued a resolution forcing DARPA to prove that such a thing by HAARP was scientifically unfounded.”
“Which they did!” Sam said, “I recall hearing about the outcome of the investigation years ago. It was all over the news. Are you telling me the evidence was wrong?”
“No. That much was true.”
“So, what did we lie about?” Sam asked.
She made a coy smile, entirely out of character for her. “While DARPA was putting together experiments to disprove the theory that HAARP could manipulate the weather, they discovered the potential for high powered microwaves not to create weather, but to modify the direction of existing weather systems.”
Sam said, “You worked out how to direct a hurricane away from any given city?”
She nodded. “Only, we didn’t implement the theory.”
“Why not?”
“For starters the U.N. had only just issued a moratorium on any projects that might affect any weather system anywhere on the planet, reminding the world that only minor changes here can affect the delicate balance of the global system.”
“And secondly?”
“We couldn’t work out how to produce a microwave powerful enough.”
“How much energy would it take?”
She smiled like the Devil. “About the same amount of energy required to emit a microwave with enough energy to produce a hundred-carat diamond.”
“You think it’s the same person. They’re using his device to shift weather?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you want to find this diamond-smith?”
She picked up the diamond and squeezed it in the palm of her hand. “No. I need to find Leo Botkin.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Who is Botkin to you?”
“Probably the world’s most dangerous man.”
“I thought he hasn’t made a public appearance in decades. Some think he’s dead.”
The Secretary studied him, with a wry smile on her face. “What do you know about Botkin?”
“Not much. Just that he went to ground twenty years ago, but stocks in his long list of companies have flourished without him.” Sam smiled. “And that he owns the train that we used to escape the Aleutian Portal.”
“Sam. Answer me this. Did you find the Göbekli Tepe Death Stone?’
“No ma’am.”
The Secretary of Defense fixed her green eyes on him. “Sam Reilly, are you lying to me?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Why?”
Sam bit his upper lip. “For the same reason you’re lying to me about what your involvement with the stone was twenty years ago – the truth is too dangerous to reveal.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sam watched as the Secretary of Defense’s hardened façade fell, revealing in its place a pained expression of regret.
“It was a long time ago, and I made some significant mistakes I regret to this day,” she said. “I was still a junior CIA Intelligence Officer investigating large amounts of funding being siphoned through a relatively unheard-of group of archeologists working at a dig called Göbekli Tepe, in Turkey.”
“What was the CIA’s interest in archeology?” Sam asked. “No one had even heard of the Master Builders back then.”
“At the time, we thought the archeological dig was entirely a business ruse, allowing key players from around the world to siphon money into a small and dangerous organization in the country. You have to understand that hundreds of millions of dollars had been transferred to the accounts of a small archeology firm. There was nothing extraordinary about the dig to reveal the need for such an investment. The CIA doubted that any of that money was being spent on the archeology.”
“It looked like a terrorist’s hotspot?” Sam asked.
“Exactly.”
“So, what happened?”
“My role, like all CIA operatives, was to collect, evaluate, and disseminate foreign intelligence. I would then take it to my superiors, who would assist the president and senior U.S. government policymakers in making decisions relating to the national security. My then partner and I were assigned to infiltrate the lives of key workers at the site. By the time we’d determined it wasn’t a terrorist cell, the team were already extracting extraordinary results from some of the giant T-shaped astronomy pillars.”
“The Göbekli Tepe Death Stone had been discovered and was being deciphered?”
“Yes. Among other things. My superiors determined it was important for my partner and me to stay and con
tinue our assignment.”
“What did you find?” Sam asked.
“An archeologist named Emad Vernon, who uncovered the results of the Göbekli Tepe Death Stone, critically revealing the prospect of an asteroid that passes across Earth every thirteen thousand years, bringing with it species-ending changes to the weather.” Her lips thinned. “The sort of prediction you found by resolving the Nostradamus Equation.”
“So, what did Congress decide to do about it?”
“Nothing. It never reached Congress. The president decided, along with the advice of my boss, to keep the entire problem a secret to prevent total pandemonium and chaos, while at the same time gathering a group of international scientists and experts capable of determining the validity of the information depicted on the Göbekli Tepe Death Stone. The group was only able to narrow the return of the doomsday asteroid to a window of eighty years, and despite enormous resources being applied to the problem, the results were unanimous – efforts should focus on developing a bunker for a small colony to survive, in order to protect the human race from extinction.”
“Where’s the colony?”
“We don’t know. A cohort of five thousand people were sent there to prepare. They’ve been living there ever since.”
“You don’t know where?”
“No. It was determined that the only way to ensure that it wasn’t overrun by an entire world of refugees was to keep its location secret to all but those chosen.”
“You weren’t chosen?” Sam asked, without hiding his surprise.
She sighed. “I declined the offer. At worst, I might have been forty years old by the time the asteroid reached us, and potentially I might be over a hundred years old. Either way, I wouldn’t have been an ideal candidate – and I had no intention of spending my life in a bunker, just in case.”
“What happened to the stone?”
“It was loaded onto the Theresa May, one of our cargo ships at the time, and was to be transferred to Harvard, where a team of experts would verify Vernon’s claims regarding an approaching cataclysmic event. As you’re already aware, the Theresa May sank en route to Cambridge, Massachusetts.”
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