The Last Second

by Catherine Coulter

  Nicholas gave them a thumbs-up.

  Grant said, “You, get a phobia, Mike? I thought crashing a chopper in the ocean would be high on your bucket list. I’ve heard Nicholas call you an adrenaline junkie.”

  “Yeah, yeah, like you had sinking with a megayacht after being taken out by a Hellfire missile on yours? No more talk about crashing helicopters. And why does everyone think I’m an adrenaline junkie?”

  Nicholas patted her damp knee. “Probably because every time we go in the air or the sea, you’re the first one out the door with a manic grin on your face. Now, we’ve got to find out if this nuke is for real. Mr. Broussard, you need to run us through everything you know.”

  Broussard looked at the three of them, sighed. “Grant, please do not call me Mr. Broussard again. Nor you, Nicholas. Now, you’ve heard everything. I was drugged, too, but luckily Grant was able to wake me up and get me to function.” He closed his eyes a moment, then said, “I think Devi must have dosed the wine and soup, and the water, too.”

  “Any idea what drug she used?”

  Grant said, “I’d say ketamine. I remember the feeling waking up from it a little too well. Nicholas, would you mind loaning me your phone? I need to give my boss Fentriss an update on our status, make sure we’re set for what happens next.”

  Nicholas handed it over. “I wish you could call Kitsune. She’s going to be furious with us when she hears about our adventures.”

  Grant grinned and his face relaxed. “I can’t wait for her to yell at me. At least I’ll be there to hear her.” He looked at Mike. “My fitness tracker, best purchase I ever made. Thank you, Mike.”

  While Grant contacted Fentriss, Nicholas said, “Mr. Broussard, would you please tell us about Dr. Nevaeh Patel?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Broussard looked exhausted. He’d had much worse to deal with than they had—well, Mike had to take that back. The upside-down helicopter in the ocean topped everything in her mind. He was grieving for his lover and his lost yacht. No, that wasn’t exactly right, Mike realized. He was grieving most of all his loss of the Holy Grail, if indeed it was that legendary artifact, which she very much doubted. Still—

  Broussard shook himself, focused on Nicholas.

  “I’m happy to tell you about Dr. Patel, and you will see it’s impossible she could have anything to do with all this.” He paused, drew a deep breath, and said, “I hired her in 2013 to run my operations out of Galactus’s headquarters in Lyon. She was previously an astronaut aboard the International Space Station, spent nearly six months in space. She’s brilliant, capable, loyal. I tell you, there’s simply no way she’d ever—”

  Mike interrupted smoothly, “Why did she leave NASA, sir?” Would he tell them the truth?

  “Please, call me Jean-Pierre, no more formality after all we’ve been through.” He paused a moment, carefully selecting his words. He thought of all she had been through and said, “Nevaeh had accomplished all she could there. It was time for her to help others travel into space. She readily joined me in my goal to make space travel inexpensive. As you might know, we are also always looking for ways to allow people to get back into space—real people, those who’ve done a minimum amount of training and are looking at it as a great experience.”

  What, Nicholas wondered, would he have said under other circumstances?

  Grant nudged Mike in the ribs. “Sounds like something else for your bucket list.”

  “Maybe, who knows what could happen up there?”

  “Which is why I hired Nevaeh. She knows what it’s like in space. She knows how to function in zero gravity, what it does to the body, the mind, how and what a civilian should be trained to do, what they need to survive a trip into space. Sorry, I got off-track. What we’ve accomplished so far is to drive down costs and make it more accessible for even smaller companies to have their own satellite systems.”

  Grant said, “So your ultimate goal is for Galactus to be the first private space flight provider in the world. Within a few years, I’ll wager.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly. An EMP would certainly set us back, set the world back, which is why I believe you’re wrong about Nevaeh being a part of anything like that. She is dedicated to the program. She would never want it to fail.”

  Nicholas asked, “How would someone get a nuclear bomb aboard a satellite?”

  “Hide it inside the body of the satellite, I assume. It could easily be built with a special compartment which wouldn’t draw any attention in the final assembly. I don’t know for sure, I’ve never given it much thought.”

  Mike said, “Seems awfully easy. Would Dr. Patel—Nevaeh—have had access to the satellite before it was put on your rocket?”

  Broussard scratched the beard stubble on his chin. “It’s possible, yes, but realize, during assembly, when we’re loading the rocket, any number of people would have access to the satellite.”

  “The nuclear signature was definitely found at the same site as your Galactus 5 launch,” Nicholas said. “Help us understand why the launch wasn’t a success.”

  “It’s something we’ve had issues with in the past, but it’s been years since anything like this happened. Simply put, the satellite was damaged when it clipped the fairing. The fairing is at the top of the rocket, the nose, where the cargo is located. When the fairing opens—it’s on an explosive charge, timed to the millisecond—the satellite is essentially jettisoned into space, and then its own controls take over to move it into its predetermined orbit. It has engines like any other space object.

  “The process of launch is usually under thirty minutes, but the satellite moving to its own orbit can take a couple of days. The satellite in question left the rocket without issue, but then never inserted into the proper orbit.”

  “So where is it?”

  “No one seems to know. The likelihood is that since it didn’t secure the proper orbit, it will probably fall back to Earth and be burned up in the atmosphere upon reentry, if it hasn’t already. Of course, it could be caught up in space junk, floating in orbit, unseen and untracked. There’s so much crap floating around up there, it would be impossible to find.”

  Mike felt her heart rate spike. “And if it has a nuclear EMP on board?”

  Broussard said, “It depends on many things, the atmospheric reentry angle, the speed at which the object is reentering Earth’s atmosphere. Things do not completely combust or vaporize. For example, Skylab dropped debris across Western Australia despite all attempts on the scientists’ part to aim for an unpopulated area. It was within three hundred miles of Perth, much too close for comfort. So the atmosphere could set the EMP off. Or it could be burned up.” He straightened, fire returning to his eyes. “Either way, I can’t imagine how a nuclear bomb could be aboard one of my rockets, much less that Nevaeh Patel put it there.”

  Mike said, “When was the last time you had contact with Dr. Patel?”

  “July 14—Bastille Day in my country—the day we found the Flor de la Mar. She’d reported to me on the failed insertion of the satellite. She certainly was regretful to report we’d had a failure, took full responsibility, but there was nothing alarming about our conversation. We’ll talk to her once we have means to make a connection. You’ll see.” He looked over at Grant. “I’m sorry, but I really believe you didn’t hear her name, maybe something close, but not Dr. Patel’s name.”

  Grant said nothing, only shook his head.

  Nicholas said, “Let’s go to the Holy Grail. Did Dr. Patel know you’d found it?”

  “Of course. She had a profound interest in my finding the Grail, particularly after I proved to her its capabilities, I guess you could call them, that is, worthiness, health, fulfilling your desire, and immortality. She insisted on calling it the Heaven Stone when I told her that was one of the names given the Grail in the past centuries. She and I were both devoted to my finding it.” He paused. “It was my most ardent desire.” He broke off. He looked like he was in despair.

 
; Why? No, the reasons didn’t matter now. No more softball. Mike said, “Jean-Pierre, why would Dr. Patel schedule the attack at that particular time, if not to retrieve the Grail and kill you? It seems obvious since Devi was shot, and Grant heard Nevaeh’s name. Was she working for Dr. Patel? But why?”

  Broussard wouldn’t meet her eyes. He put his head in his hands, whispered, “I cannot believe it, I cannot. C’est impossible.” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “Whatever happened, whoever is responsible for all this misery, this death, I must have the Grail. If I don’t get it back soon, all will be lost.”

  “What will be lost?” Grant asked.

  Broussard only shook his head, not looking up.

  They were over land now, green and lush, and a few minutes later landed at the airbase in Phuket.

  Grant handed Nicholas back his phone. He looked as exhausted as Broussard.

  “Thanks for letting me use your phone, Nicholas. Fentriss sent the Blue Mountain G650. It is waiting for us. We’ll be in the air to France as soon as we can board.” He looked over at Broussard. “Jean-Pierre, it’s time for us to speak to Dr. Patel in person.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  T-MINUS 38 HOURS

  Aquarius Observatory

  Sri Lanka

  The sun rose hard and fast over the forest, the gray, milky light giving way to multiple shades of gold and pink, then to a flush stark red. Nevaeh watched with wonder from her bedroom. It was stunningly beautiful. It brought to mind the old saying, “Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.” Indeed, the storm was coming, and when it did, it would strike hard.

  How many sunrises and sunsets had she witnessed over the years? How many had she seen from space? Had any been this beautiful?

  Kiera, her red hair mussed, entered the bedroom, bringing Nevaeh a cup of coffee and her tablet.

  She yawned. “You’re going to want to see this. The media are going absolutely stark raving mad about the missing yacht.”

  Nevaeh accepted the coffee but brushed away the tablet. “I don’t care about Jean-Pierre anymore.”

  “Unfortunately, you have to pretend to care. You’re going to have to issue another statement.”

  Nevaeh groaned. “I don’t want to think about him. I want to think about the future. Come back to bed.”

  Kiera gave her a grin but stepped away to flip on the television. “I’m not kidding. It’s on every station. You’ll have to talk to them.”

  “I’m supposed to be in China dealing with fairing manufacturing metal fatigue, and then French Guiana overseeing a launch. How do you suggest I suddenly appear on the radar?”

  “We’ll make it look like you’re on the jet. It will take nothing to set up. You say you’re en route to Lyon. It will take thirteen hours for you to get there from China anyway.” She paused. “I’m thinking maybe you should shut down the Galactus campus.”

  “Shut it down? Won’t that be rather noticeable?”

  Kiera sat on the floor in front of the television, her long, muscular legs crossed at the ankles.

  She looked up. “Makes sense. You can say you’re suspending operations in order to focus all your attention on the search and rescue of Jean-Pierre. Here’s an idea: You’re worried whoever is behind this—terrorist attack—could come to the Galactus headquarters. You want to protect all the employees. Surely that sounds logical. Also, added bonus—with the campus closed, no media will be able to hound the employees.”

  “Look, Kiera, it doesn’t matter what the board thinks, it doesn’t matter how much money Galactus is losing. The world as we know it will end soon, right?”

  Kiera gave her a long look and slowly nodded.

  “You can say no one is able to work, they’re all too afraid Mr. Broussard is dead. You know he’s like a rock star to the employees. The media will eat it up.”

  “And I’m not?”

  “Of course you’re not. You’re their boss, you carry the whip, the bitch who makes them all show up every day and work their butts off to earn a healthy profit. He’s the owner, the playboy with a dozen mistresses, the exciting crazy man who is off chasing treasure.”

  Nevaeh was nodding now. “Yes, yes, I have it—sabotage. We’ve discovered the satellite was sabotaged. In light of Jean-Pierre’s missing ship, and the sabotage of our latest launch, we fear for the safety of our employees. We will not be issuing any more statements until we know what’s happened to Jean-Pierre. Buys us another couple of days of silence, and by then, it will be too late.”

  Kiera was now doing sit-ups. She beamed up at Nevaeh. “Yep, that works.”

  She came up on her knees, picked up her coffee, and clicked her cup against Nevaeh’s.

  “Kiera, bring me the phone. I’ll call in instead of telecon, so there’s nothing to see. Run a hairdryer in the background. It will sound like the plane’s engines.”

  Nevaeh picked up her tablet and checked her messages. Dozens of emails, which she ignored. She looked over at Kiera, saw she was playing with one of her weapons, a Ka-Bar knife, and smiled. Her bodyguard, her confidante. She felt affection for her, probably as much as she’d felt for her now-dead parents. She was right, Nevaeh couldn’t avoid the situation any longer. Kiera handed her the phone, then went to the bathroom, turned on the fan, and put a hairdryer on the edge of the tub, set it to medium.

  Nevaeh dialed into the Galactus headquarters to speak to Claudette, Jean-Pierre’s secretary.

  Claudette was obviously worried. “Oh, Dr. Patel. We are so concerned about Jean-Pierre. You’ve been fully briefed?”

  “I have. Claudette, I have more information. I will be issuing another statement to the media, but I want you to shut down the campus. Send everyone home.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I have discovered something disturbing. The satellite we lost on Bastille Day was sabotaged. I fear for your safety, for the safety of our employees. Send everyone home, and lock the gates to the facility.”

  “This will inflame the media, Dr. Patel. It is highly irregular. I don’t think—”

  “I don’t care about the media, Claudette. I am only concerned with the safety of our employees, and the company itself. I will speak to the department heads myself if you are not comfortable doing so. If you need me to, gather them immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Hold, please.” Her voice was still doubtful, but a few minutes later, she came back on the line. “I’ve told the team. They agree, given what you’ve found. They are moving to shut down the campus, as you wish. It’s also true no one has the heart to be here today. If Jean-Pierre is gone—”

  “I fear he may be, and if so, we will all have a burden to bear. I will issue a statement to the media shortly, and once the campus is shut down, you are to go home and await my instructions. I will be in touch as soon as I have a succession plan in place. I will be working with the authorities to determine who is behind this sabotage, and once I do, we will move forward with Galactus, stronger than ever.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Claudette hung up. Kiera grinned at her, gave her a thumbs-up.

  Nevaeh laughed. “That girl is blind in her devotion to Broussard. Well, that was harsh. I must personally give him my most profound thanks for finding the Heaven Stone.” She thought to the Numen. See what I’ve accomplished? It’s nearly done. She said to Kiera, “Let’s draft a statement and be done with this. I need to check our satellite and make sure it is moving into the proper position.”

  “What should the statement say? ‘Dear World, you may think you’re royally screwed, but we promise, all will be well’?”

  Nevaeh shook her head, suddenly grave. “You shouldn’t make fun, Kiera. I know you’re enjoying this, you’ve always been too bloodthirsty for your own good. Everything—everything—we’ve done is to save these people from their mean little lives. They will erect statues in my honor. And, of course, statues of the Numen.”

  Nevaeh was getting carried away, but it didn’t matter, Kiera knew all would be well soon en
ough. She said, “I will take care of it. You go look for the satellite. I will come back to you with a draft for the media.”

  Nevaeh watched her go, then checked her watch. So soon, just as I promised you.

  So soon, they said back to her. Just as you promised us.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  T-MINUS 36 HOURS

  Phuket, Thailand

  Poppy Bennet stood with her hands on her hips in the doorway to the Blue Mountain Gulfstream. She greeted Jean-Pierre Broussard, introduced herself, and got him settled into a soft leather seat. He was pale, too pale, and she worried. She apologized on behalf of Blue Mountain for his troubles, covered him with a blanket, and patted his shoulder. Then she came back to the front and walked to Grant, seemed to breathe him in as she hugged him tightly. “We’ve all been so worried, even Fentriss, and you know he’s not much on sentiment. You’ve got to stop scaring the life out of us, Grant, promise?”

  “I swear I’ll try harder, Poppy.”

  She cupped his face between her hands. “I am so glad you and your team are safe. Now, you’re not to worry, all right?” She turned to Nicholas and Mike. “Is it true what everyone was talking about? You two actually went down in the chopper that was struck by a giant rogue wave?”

  Nicholas nodded. “We were lucky. The pilot, not so much.”

  Poppy shook her head. “Mr. Fentriss was very relieved you two survived, too. He really didn’t want to have to report your deaths to the FBI. Now come and sit down, both of you look ready to fall over.”

  Mike said, “Any news from the rescue?”

  “It’s ongoing. So far, all is well. As I told Grant, the team is all right. I’m going back to Kuala Lumpur to retrieve them and bring them home.”

  Grant said, sounding half-asleep, “Poppy, I should go with you to get the team. I need to assess the situation, try—”

  “What you need to do, Grant Thornton, is give your sorry arse a good sleep. I’ll handle Kuala Lumpur. Mr. Fentriss wants you to stay with Mr. Broussard.” He started to speak but she held up a hand. “No, no arguments. You almost died—again. Expect Mr. Fentriss to preach protocol.”