He hit send and the message appeared seconds later on the computer of a Major Hank McDonough, received by an e-mail address unknown to him.
Kira Miller sat in Major McDonough’s comfy mesh chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Not that she had expected them to have any trouble. Griffin had seen to it that the forged work order to install carpet for the actual Captain Hernandez was sent to the guard station computers. Still, you never knew.
I’ll be waiting, she sent back. With bells on.
Actually, her three nights and two days as an uninvited house guest of the major and his family, who were happily on leave in Cancun the entire week, had been just what the doctor ordered. When she had used Jake’s computer during her escape to tap into the base’s personnel records, she had learned that nineteen families were on leave that week. And her enhanced self had chosen well. Her temporary hideout had been perfect. The major’s wife was very nearly her size, and had tasteful clothing that was quite comfortable. And they had a well stocked cupboard, which was more important than ever after she had come down from her gellcap induced adventure. She had been pushed to her limits—this time physically as well as mentally—and her hunger had seemed unquenchable.
The major had a smooth Internet hookup, and she had been able to spend hours reading scientific literature; planting information she wanted to be accessible by her amped mind in the future. She was careful not to do anything that could tip off the neighbors that the major’s house harbored a squatter, which including going outside, getting too near a window, or turning on a light at night—all of which had done wonders for her—ensuring she did little else but read and relax. For the first time since she could remember, she was able to catch up on her sleep. She felt like a new woman.
But, alas, it was time to go. The hunt for her had cooled off enough and she had too much to accomplish to waste another second convalescing here. But she would miss this place. She hadn’t been in a homelike atmosphere for some time, and sipping cocoa and reading in a comfortable bathrobe—even if it wasn’t hers, was a welcome respite from a life that had grown ever more complicated and intense.
She had to remember to have Griffin anonymously pick up the tab for the McDonough’s weeklong stay in Cancun. It was the least she could do—especially since she’d practically cleaned out their cupboard the very first night. Good thing the refrigerator and freezer were well stocked as well.
Any trouble finding the magician’s prop? she e-mailed the two men in the van.
Given the heightened alert the base was still under after her supposed escape two days earlier, she knew the guards manning the gate would conduct a thorough search of the van on the way out as well as in. But lithe magician’s assistants had been crammed into small, secret compartments in coffin-shaped boxes for decades. This was a simple illusion requiring a simple prop. And Desh and Griffin didn’t even need to saw the box in thirds while she was inside and pull the pieces apart. They just needed to ditch the carpeting somewhere it wouldn’t be found, wait an hour or so, and then leave.
No trouble at all, came the reply. When money isn’t an object, all things are possible.
There was a pause, and then another message appeared on Major McDonough’s computer. David says to tell you we’re one minute out, he loves you, and if you risk yourself like this again, he promises to kill you.
Kira laughed. She still couldn’t help but love David Desh. Now she just had to be sure she really knew him. And decide if she could trust him.
Part of her was tingling in anticipation of seeing him again. Of melting into his arms.
But another part was wary.
She and her husband needed to have a little talk.
PART TWO
“I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”
—J. Robert Oppenheimer, father of the atomic bomb
upon seeing the first test detonation
(quoting from Hindu scripture)
29
Once the countries of the world agreed to cooperate, they needed to decide where they would gather. Olympic villages were considered from the past several Olympics, but no matter which country was proposed to host operations, scores of other countries were vehemently opposed.
It was quickly agreed that this project would be done under the charter of the United Nations, since all but a few of the world’s countries were members.
The United States argued that because it gave the most money to the United Nations, and the organization was headquartered in New York, the operation should be conducted on U.S. soil, perhaps near Area 51. This was a location the U.S. used to test advanced aircraft and weaponry and could be easily converted for the current purpose. Besides, since Area 51 had been rumored for decades to be the site at which the U.S. studied alien spacecraft, it seemed fitting to finally make the rumor true. A number of countries agreed to this proposal, but China and Russia were so adamantly opposed, and were able to get enough of their allies to rail against it as well, that the proposal fell though.
Finally, after hundreds of proposals got nowhere, one emerged that evolved into something the countries of the world reluctantly agreed upon. The alien craft would be studied in international waters, so it wasn’t on any nation’s home turf. And the effort would be located as distant as possible from the worlds’ major military powers. This ended up being in the South Atlantic, closest to Africa and South America, and nearly equidistant from North America, Europe, and Asia.
To provide the proper platform, the U.N. commandeered The Spectacle of the Sea, built in Finland, which was the latest leader in a race that had gone on for decades among luxury cruise lines to build ever more gargantuan ships. Spectacle could house twelve thousand passengers and crew. It was over five football fields in length and one in width. It was twenty-eight stories tall. It was an exercise in decadence and the amazing potential of human enterprise and engineering, costing well over two billion dollars to build.
The ship had several full sized basketball and volleyball courts on its upper deck, and a half mile running track. It boasted a grassy park, a football field in length, which sported a variety of different trees and other vegetation, as well as streams packed with freshwater fish. During cruises, over seventy-five tons of ice were produced to satisfy the needs of the ship’s twenty-seven cafes and restaurants and forty-six bars. Forty-two tanks stored the nearly one million gallons of freshwater used by passengers each day. The Spectacle of the Sea was home to eight swimming pools, two nightclubs, several huge auditoriums and three theaters.
It would barely be big enough.
Scientific equipment of every kind would be flown in. Pools would be drained and seats removed from theaters. Parks, restaurants, ballrooms, and spas would be pressed into service housing equipment, or would be converted into other needed facilities.
A large portion of the upper deck would become a makeshift airport for jets and helicopters alike, turning the ship into the world’s largest aircraft carrier. All air and sea approaches to the ship would be patrolled by a U.N. peacekeeping force, and only those craft that had been cleared by U.N. representatives at various staging areas on the West Coast of Africa, which meant their passengers and crew were on the approved list and they had been thoroughly screened for weapons, would be allowed through the gauntlet and onto the ship.
The effort would be managed by the winners of the last twenty-one Nobel Prizes in physics, chemistry, and medicine, awarded over the past seven years. These twenty-one could elect internal leadership as they saw fit, in much the same way that juries elected jury foremen. This central committee of Nobel Laureates would select up to two thousand additional scientists to join the cruise, without concern for nationality. The governments of each of the nearly two hundred countries represented would be allowed forty delegates in addition to these scientists—with no questions asked, although arms would not be allowed on board—and each would be assigned their own block of quarters, Olympic-village style. Along with these two thousand scientists and e
ight thousand delegates, two thousand members of the ship’s standard crew and staff would round out the on board population.
Every stateroom on board was already equipped with at least a thirty-inch screen for entertainment and for passengers to plan and book on-land excursions. Each screen would be tied into a ship-wide network, so that all delegates would be able to receive important feeds and schedules.
Getting this immense floating platform ready would require a heroic effort, but no one suggested it shouldn’t be done. Yes, the effort could be a bust. The alien craft could change course. It could hover above the Earth for a few minutes and then sail into the Sun. Perhaps it would reveal its secrets immediately, bringing the enlightenment and making the U.N. effort unnecessary.
If the craft didn’t land, or wasn’t retrievable, returning the cruise ship to its original condition, and reimbursing the company for its use, would set the governments of the world back about a hundred million dollars. On a global scale, this was rounding error, even if the world was still suffering from one of the harshest economic climates in recent memory.
A number of names had been suggested for the ship, since Spectacle of the Sea was somehow not a fitting moniker for the ark that would host an unprecedented worldwide collaboration to study an object that would forever change history. United Earth, Pax Humanity, The Spirit of Mankind, and The Tower of Babel were all considered. But in the end the biggest vote-getter was the Copernicus, after the man who many believed had ushered in modern science, creating the Copernican revolution with his heretical theory that the Earth was not the center of the universe. Not only was Earth not the center of the universe, in one fell swoop the incoming alien craft had made it clear it wasn’t even the center of life in the universe, or even intelligent life.
The Copernicus would fly the flag of the United Nations, a body that had become hopelessly corrupt in many ways, serving as a public forum for countries with hateful and intolerant ideologies. A once august body that now allowed countries with the worst human rights records in the world to head human rights commissions, attacking political enemies with human rights records far better than their own. But even the most ardent critics of the U.N. were hopeful that this effort could at least redeem the concept of cooperation among nations.
So plans were made and delegates selected. The Spectacle of the Sea, now the Copernicus, would be stationed in international waters, just off the coast of Angola, but close enough to Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa that ports and aircraft from these countries could be used to shuttle delegates to the ship.
The massive sea vessel crawled through the waves toward its destination at just over twenty miles an hour, not wanting to be late for a rendezvous with a craft that had traveled trillions of miles for unguessable purposes.
The alien object might change course, or it might not be retreivable.
But if it was, the world would be ready.
30
Colonel Morris Jacobson took one last look at the waters of the Potomac and turned back toward the street, where a stretch black limo, its windows tinted, was pulling up beside him. He checked his watch. Punctual as always.
The door swung open and he slid inside the cocoon of luxury. His boss, Andrew Dutton, was inside, sipping a glass of scotch. Dutton’s official title within the Department of Defense was Senior Civilian Advisor on Special Operations Forces, Counterterrorism, Irregular Warfare, and Counternarcotics. But unofficially, off the radar, he was much, much more. There were those in the government with fancier titles, both civilian and military, and who reported, at least on paper, to higher levels, but none had more power than Dutton nor readier access to the ear of the president.
Jake extended his hand to shake, but Dutton ignored him, offering only an expression of contempt in return. “Let’s not waste time beating around the bush, Colonel,” said Dutton by way of greeting. “I read your report. What the fuck is going on? You lose her before I even know you have her! What kind of bullshit is that?”
Jake met his boss’s steady gaze. “I admit it wasn’t my finest hour. But you of all people know I work independently and call my own plays. You, yourself, insisted on this level of autonomy. Once you and I agree on the direction of the end zone, I’m responsible for driving the team down the field.”
“If I hear one more fucking football metaphor in this town I swear to God I’m going to puke.”
“The point stands,” said Jake.
“Then let me make myself crystal clear,” snapped Dutton. “From here on out, if you know anything useful about this Icarus—anything—I want to know about it without delay. And if you have Kira Miller in your sites—I want to know about it yesterday. Is that understood?”
“Understood.”
“And I’d like to see the footage you have of her.” He shook his head in disgust. “You know, during the brief time you were able to hold on to her.”
“There is no footage.”
“You didn’t film her?” yelled Dutton in disbelief.
“I’m afraid not,” lied Jake, inwardly cursing himself for revealing to Kira that he had taken a gellcap, and describing his actions while under its influence. This was now on the video, and was not something he wanted known, especially not by Andrew Dutton.
“I’ve always thought you were very good at what you do,” said Dutton. “But I may have to modify that assessment. How could you be so fucking incompetent as to not have a camera on her?”
Jake held his ground. “Because it was a brief meeting, not an interrogation. Once the interrogation started we’d have all the footage you could ever want. But I wanted a few minutes alone with her beforehand. Just to size her up. Get a feel for her. See what she looked like in person.”
“See what she looked like. Or her tits?”
“She was fully dressed the entire time I was with her.”
“That’s not what it looked like to the men outside your office door. And according to them, the girl claimed you tried to get a feel for her all right—with your pecker.”
“She made that up to help her escape, and you know it!” snapped Jake. “I didn’t touch her! One of the guards she attacked is a third level black belt in two different martial arts, and he couldn’t lay a hand on her. I couldn’t have raped her if I wanted to. It’d be easier trying to rape a wood chipper.”
“I don’t know,” said Dutton. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t want any filming. Without video, how do we know what really happened in there? Maybe you were forcing yourself on her when her super IQ kicked in and you lost control of the situation. You admit yourself she was just normal, helpless Kira Miller before she surprised the shit out of you.”
“There’s nothing normal or helpless about Kira Miller, believe me. Even when she’s not amped up.”
“Maybe you ripped her clothes open and uncuffed her so you could have better, um . . . access.”
“What are you saying? That you believe the word of a psychopath over mine? One trying to distract my men to help her escape at the time?”
“No. I’m saying you didn’t film your meeting! And your very own report says her cuffs were found near your desk, completely intact. Removed from her. She couldn’t have done it herself.”
“The report also said there was clear evidence of scratches on the ratcheting mechanism, and we found an unwound paperclip nearby. She picked them.”
“You can pick plastic handcuffs with a paperclip?”
“If you know what you’re doing, yes.”
“Then why are they considered the ultimate restraint?”
“Not many people have the knowledge or skill to pull it off.” He shook his head angrily. “But enough of this. I told you I didn’t touch her. I won’t say it again, and I won’t defend myself further. I’m offended by your accusations. If you have even the slightest doubt that I’m telling you the truth, I’ll tender my resignation right now.”
Dutton stared at him for a long moment. “I believe you, Colonel,” he snarled. “If I did
n’t, I’d have relieved you of duty already.” He swirled his drink and studied the dark amber liquid before bringing it to his lips once again.
He lowered the glass. “But I grilled you just now for a reason,” he said. “Because you fucked up big time. And you know it. How about taping your sessions with prisoners from now on? You have a session with perhaps the most important prisoner you’ve ever had, and you let her get away. Without any record she was even there. If it weren’t for the quality of your service, I’d not only take your resignation, I’d insist on it. I’m still spitting blood over this one.” He paused. “But I’m going to give you a second chance.” He leaned in closer to the colonel and glared at him. “Believe me, you won’t get a third.”
For just an instant, Jake contemplated telling his boss to shove the job up his ass, but he contained himself. The irony was that he didn’t want another chance. He was beginning to hate this job. He’d be thrilled to let someone else do it. But since they wouldn’t have the benefit of experiencing an enhanced IQ the way he had, they would have no idea what they were really up against. Unfortunately, he was uniquely qualified to respond to the threat posed by Kira Miller and Icarus.
“Do you have any other leads?” asked Dutton, his voice now less confrontational.
“Some. Which we’re working through. But I’m not all that hopeful.”
“So you’re back to where you started before you found that physicist, Rosenfield?”
“Rosenblatt,” corrected Jake. “Yes. Pretty much.”
“That’s just fucking great,” growled Dutton in disgust. “Well, I’ve got more bad news when it comes to what you’re now calling the Icarus op,” he said. “We’re throttling back for now. I have a new job that takes precedence. Still keep ten percent of your attention and resources focused on Icarus, and another fifteen percent on your other ops.”
AMPED w-2 Page 17