Unruffled, Herrick lowered his arm and continued, appearing to concentrate his attention on the area of the auditorium where Daniel and Brad were sitting. “We of the European Union,” he said, his voice deep and creaky with age, “would welcome Mr. Daniel Prentice to join our committee, just as we welcome the chance to work with the United States to solve our mutual problems as the new millennium approaches. For the past several years, we of the European community have concentrated on tearing down the walls that divided us for centuries. Today we embrace each other, and tomorrow we would like to embrace our fellow citizens across the sea.”
Twisting his narrow frame, he nodded toward the seats where the vice president sat with his wife. “Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Miller, honored senators, honored representatives, ladies and gentlemen, we now stand on the threshold of a new age. I have been a guest in your capital for the last several days, and my imagination has been stirred by the imaginative proposals I’ve heard your leaders expressing. We are all citizens of the world; we all belong to a global community. The Millennium Project is but a tool that will break down the last barriers and unite us. I foresee a strengthened World Commission with the authority to enforce international environmental laws to guarantee a safe world for our children. I foresee an international court of law with the capability to enforce international covenants, eradicate terrorism, and ensure basic human rights to all. I foresee a world where each individual is separate and distinct, yet joined with his fellows in an orchestration of universal harmony and peace.”
“He’s quite the optimist, isn’t he?” Daniel whispered to Brad. “Who is this guy?”
Brad lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug, then turned his head slightly. “I don’t know how he got clearance, but Romulus must have powerful friends. Herrick’s been in Archer’s shadow virtually all week.”
“If I may paraphrase your brilliant American scientist Robert Oppenheimer, creator of the first successful atomic bomb,” Herrick went on, “it is the open society, the unrestricted access to knowledge, the uninhibited association of men—these are what may make a vast, complex, ever growing, ever changing, ever more specialized and expert technological world, nevertheless a world of human community.” Herrick paused, looking out at his audience with the soul-searching gaze of a soul-burdened preacher. “And it is men like Mr. Daniel Prentice who will help us create a true global community. Thank you, Mr. Prentice, for your willingness to share your ideas to protect us from the Year 2000 Crisis as well as to create innovative solutions. We of the world community thank you for your largesse.”
Herrick stepped back and lifted his arms in a flourish, and this time the audience responded to his cue. Applause rang from the insulated walls, and as Daniel raised his hands to join in, he saw that General Herrick was applauding and nodding at him.
“I think this one’s for you,” Brad muttered out the side of his mouth. “Acknowledge the guy, will you, so we can get out of here.”
Daniel smiled and nodded slightly, then rose halfway out of his chair and lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave. Clenching his teeth in a smile, he glanced down at Brad. “What does he mean, exactly?”
“I’m not sure,” Brad answered, clapping with the others. “But I think he just thanked you for agreeing to work with the European Millennium Project. So act pleased, Daniel, and get it over with.”
Biting back an oath, Daniel dropped back into his seat. As the applause died down, he covered his hand with his mouth and leaned toward Brad. “What if I don’t want to go to Europe?”
“They need you, Daniel. You’ve said it yourself—if their computers aren’t up to speed, our Y2K fixes won’t amount to anything.” Brad’s broad mouth curved in a one-sided smile. “Think of it as an all-expense-paid vacation, Danny, and have a good time. They’ll pick your brain, put you up in a fine hotel, and let you talk about computers until your jaw aches. You’ll be home in a couple of months, at the latest.”
Daniel rested his chin in his hand as the vice president advanced to the lectern and finished with a droning treatise on American technological advancement. The guy was painfully sincere, but his material was about as interesting as an obsolete almanac.
Daniel leaned toward Brad again. “You know, if I go to Europe, I’ll need some help. Maybe an assistant.”
The corner of Brad’s mouth twisted. “Don’t you have an assistant?”
“Taylor will be busy in New York. I was thinking more of a political assistant—someone who knows the ins and outs of world politics and protocol. I’m a complete klutz with etiquette, you know that.”
Brad lifted one eyebrow, suggesting in shorthand that Daniel get to the point.
“I was wondering—do you think the president could be convinced to let Miss Mitchell come to Europe with me?”
Brad’s mouth curved in a wry, knowing smile. “Right now you could ask for just about anything and get it.”
Daniel pressed a fingertip over his lips as he considered his options. He had set himself up for a gargantuan task within the United States, but his PT executive team could oversee it. And this General Herrick, no matter what his politics, was right about one thing—Europe would need a Y2K fix like everyone else; and if the American Millennium Project was to be truly successful, the rest of the world would have to come aboard. Any country that did not repair its computer systems with the Millennium Code would be a broken span in the bridge, with the out-of-control train inexorably advancing.
This was his chance to make his mark on human history.
“All right.” Daniel kept his voice low and his temper under control. “I want two things: Lauren Mitchell by my side in Europe, and a guarantee that there are no more spooks tapping my phones or spying on my company. Find out who’s shadowing me and call them off, Brad. Then I’ll go to Europe—and your own people can breathe easier.”
Brad’s jaw moved sideways, then he nodded in an almost imperceptible movement. “Sounds reasonable to me,” he said, standing to applaud the conclusion of the vice president’s speech. He glanced down at Daniel. “I’ll have to talk to my superiors, but I think you may have yourself a deal.”
Satisfied, Daniel stood and joined in the applause.
THIRTEEN
12:01 A.M., Tuesday, November 17, 1998
THE SHRILL RINGING OF THE BEDSIDE PHONE WOKE AMELIA PRENTICE FROM A sound sleep. A pulse of anxiety spurted through her—middle-of-the-night calls never brought good news—unless it was Daniel calling. That boy kept the strangest hours. . . .
She fumbled in the dark, grasped the receiver, then lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Happy Birthday, Mom!”
Amelia felt her heart race as she held the phone. God bless the boy, and never mind that it was the middle of the night and he’d just scared her half to death. He hadn’t forgotten her birthday.
“Daniel, it’s good to hear from you! Where are you?” she said, propping up her pillows, then nestling back against them.
“Right now, Mom, I’m on a pay phone in a Washington hotel lobby, so I’m sorry for the noise. But I wanted to catch you before I was officially a day late.” He hesitated. “It is still the sixteenth, isn’t it?”
Amelia smiled as she glanced at the clock. It just changed to 12:02 A.M., but she’d give him credit for making the effort. “You’re so thoughtful, Son. So tell me, what are you doing in Washington? I saw the First Manhattan Bank executive on the news; he certainly was thrilled with what you’d done for him.”
“Yeah, he’s going to be just fine. Now they want me to do something similar for the government. I was a little reluctant at first, but Brad Hunter talked me into it. You remember Brad?”
“Of course.” How could she forget the young man who had saved Daniel’s life? After their mission in Desert Storm, she had flown up to Washington and spent a week praying by the bedsides of both young men. But Daniel wouldn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to eternity.
“Well,” she said, smoothing a wrinkle i
n the blanket over her lap, “can you tell me what this government project is about? Will I be seeing your picture on a dollar bill anytime soon?”
Daniel laughed, and Amelia’s spirits lifted at the sound. “I wouldn’t think so, Mom. But you may hear about our project soon enough. We’re implementing a national computer network to streamline operations. Everyone in the country will have a personal identification chip, and we figure the United States will be a completely cash-free society by the year 2000. Did you know that Finland has been cashless for months? And the Canadians have taken to debit cards like ducks to water. It really is time for us to put technology to work like the rest of the world.”
“An identification chip?” Amelia felt a tremor, a disturbing quake in her serenity. “How would that work, Daniel?”
“It’ll be simple, Mom.” His tone was carefree and breezy. “You’ll just get a tiny little PID in your right hand. It will contain your personal identification number, medical history, financial records, and digital renderings of your DNA sequence, and voice- and thumbprints. It’s just one aspect of what we’re calling the Millennium Project.”
The darkness around Amelia seemed to grow cold. “The Millennium Project?” To her dismay, her voice broke slightly.
Daniel seemed not to notice her uneasiness. “Yes. Believe it or not, the government is sending me to Europe for a few weeks. I don’t really want to take time away from my own work, but leaders over there have been keen on this idea of a computerized society ever since they began discussions about a unified Europe. So it’s only natural that they’d be interested in how we solve our year-2000 problems.”
Amelia felt a cold, thin blade of foreboding slice into her heart as Daniel rambled on. Europe—the old Roman Empire. A worldwide system. And her son in the thick of it.
She took a deep breath and felt bands of tightness in her chest. “Honey, I wish you wouldn’t go.”
“Why?” Genuine surprise laced his voice. “I thought you’d be proud. Your son helping to save the world, and all that.”
“You can do lots of things, Daniel, but I’m afraid you can’t save the world. Something bad—something evil—is going to come of this, and I don’t want you to be in the middle of it.”
“Now, Mother.” She heard the determination in his soft voice. This was the voice he’d used when she had protested against moving to Florida, when he had insisted that she have household help, and when he’d told her he was going to start his own company instead of working for someone else. When Daniel spoke in that tone, she knew she couldn’t win.
“Why are you doing this, Son?”
She could almost see him shrug. “I got involved because I owed Brad a big favor. And I’m still involved because—well, this should please you. I’ve met a most interesting woman on the president’s staff. I think you’d like her.”
Oh no, she wasn’t going to rise to that particular bait. Daniel thought he could distract her by insinuating that he might be thinking about settling down, but he’d waltzed down that particular aisle too many times. And if he was involved in what Amelia feared, marriage was the last thing he should be considering.
She decided to switch tactics. “Daniel, do you still have that box of your father’s books?”
He hesitated. “Um, yeah. I think it’s in the back of my closet.”
“Promise me something.”
“Now, Mom—”
“Just this one little thing. When you get back to New York, promise me that you’ll look through your father’s books. He was a great student, your father, and I know he filled those books with all sorts of personal notes. I think he’d want you to read them now.”
He answered with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Okay.”
“Promise me, Daniel!”
“I promise.” He paused a moment, then asked, “Did you get the flowers?”
“Yes. And they were very nice. But they won’t mean a thing unless you keep your promise to me.”
She heard him sigh heavily. “I promise I’ll look through the books. As soon as I find some free time.”
“And when will that be?”
“Maybe next week. I have to spend some time at the company and get ready for the European trip, but I think everything’s under control.”
“That’s good, Son.” There was less darkness in the darkness now, and Amelia relaxed against her pillow. “Be careful. There are spiritual battles raging all around you, wars you aren’t even aware of. The Bible warns us that ‘our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.’”
Daniel did not answer, and Amelia knew he was staring off into the distance, probably searching for a polite way to tell her to get a grip on her imagination and go back to sleep.
She’d make it easy for him. “Good night, Son. I love you—please be careful.”
“Who’s waiting, Lauren?” The president looked up from his desk, where he was busily signing letters of appreciation to the cabinet members who had put in extra long hours last week.
Lauren checked the peephole in the curved door. Adam Archer and Kord Herrick, the European Union representative, waited outside the Oval Office with stony expressions, probably miffed at the delay.
“Generals Archer and Herrick are outside,” she said, glancing over at the president. “And after this meeting you have a lunch appointment with the vice president. He wants to discuss details of the new antismoking campaign.”
“Who’d have ever thought that a North Carolinian would be talking about the dangers of tobacco?” The president grinned up at her, then stood and stretched. “I’m going to excuse myself for a moment, Lauren, so why don’t you show the generals in. And see if Eddie can rustle up some tea and coffee—if they start talking about computer codes again, I’m liable to need some caffeine.”
As the president sauntered off down the hallway that led to his private study, Lauren opened the door into the secretary’s office, then nodded to Archer and Herrick. “Gentlemen, please come in.” Both men rose and followed her with stiff, military dignity, then paused in the empty space between the chairs before the president’s desk and the more relaxed seating arrangement in front of the fireplace.
“I’m going to see about bringing in some coffee,” she said, smiling as she gestured toward the comfortable sofas. “If you two would sit and relax, the president will be with you shortly.”
Leaving the men to make their own conversation, she hurried down the hallway that led into the private dining room. Eddie Kasper, the steward, was clearing away the remains of the president’s breakfast. She asked him for tea and coffee, then nodded when he promised to deliver it immediately.
Lauren paused in the hallway outside the larger space of the Oval Office. The two generals were whispering, and she felt a jolt when she heard one of them mention Daniel Prentice.
A smile ruffled her mouth. If Daniel Prentice wasn’t motivated by money, perhaps he craved fame or influence. He would probably be very happy to know that his name was being bandied about in the Oval Office. Maybe she ought to invite him for dinner, just to sound him out and examine his motivations. She could express her appreciation for all he had done to help with the president’s Millennium Project and possibly make up for the abrupt way in which she’d brushed him off last weekend. All in the name of business, of course.
Lifting her chin, Lauren walked through the room, inquired after the generals’ comfort, then moved out through the secretary’s office toward the warren that housed her own private domain.
“Oh, bother!” Lauren rushed to the stove as the pot of spaghetti noodles filled with white frothy bubbles and threatened to spill over. She turned down the heat and held her breath as the bubbles gradually receded, then she checked her watch. Daniel Prentice was officially late. He’d promised to come for dinner at seven o’clock, and her watch told her it was one minute past. So, Superman had a flaw afte
r all.
She grimaced as the doorbell rang. Okay, maybe her watch was fast. She moved toward the door, checked her reflection in the foyer mirror, then looked through the peephole. Daniel Prentice stood on her front porch, his arms brimming with flowers.
She was still gaping when she opened the door.
“Too much?” Daniel held the bouquet of roses and daisies at arms’ length and gazed at it skeptically. “I wasn’t sure what kind of statement I wanted to make.”
With an effort, Lauren smoothed her expression and offered him a smile. “It’s perfect.” She gathered the flowers into her arms and breathed deeply of the scent of roses. “My two favorite flowers—how did you know?”
“I read it in your Millennium Code.”
She looked up, startled, and saw Daniel smiling at her. “That’s a joke. Actually, I just guessed. You seemed like the kind of girl who might like daisies in the morning and roses at night.”
Lauren stepped back to let him in, a little unsettled by the feelings he evoked. She met all sorts of men in her work—most of them powerful, many of them rich, more than a few hungry for feminine attention. But she had never yearned to see any of them outside the office, and she had never invited any of them to her Georgetown townhouse. But though Daniel Prentice interested her, this was still business. His work in Washington would be finished soon, and he would be going back to New York.
“I just want you to know,” she stammered, feeling like a star-struck schoolgirl, “that you’re the first man I’ve invited to dinner in . . . well, years. First of all, I don’t cook. And second, I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”
Daniel gave her a lopsided smile. “Sounds like the story of my life. I don’t cook, either. And I rarely do anything outside of the business. So I guess we were cut from the same bolt of cloth.”
“Apparently.” Lauren closed the door, then led the way into the kitchen. “Let me put these in some water. How nice that they’re fresh-cut! Most guys would have picked up an arrangement already in a vase.”
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