“Hey!”
The high-pitched voice came from behind him. Fighting the urge to run, Jared took a deep breath and wheeled. He saw a girl roughly his own age approaching him. She was being pulled by a toy poodle on a leash.
“Where’s your dog?” she asked.
Jared nonchalantly stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Aw, I’m just visiting. My dad’s a defense contractor. Makes pumps for nuclear attack subs.”
“Lucky you.” She came up to him and the little, curly haired pooch began giving him the olfactory once-over. “You get to skip school.”
Jared feigned a frown. “Not really. I’m homeschooled.” Then he said, “Hey, after this thing’s over can you show me around?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling coquettishly. “Are you living on base?”
“Yeah. How about you?”
“Yeah. Ballast Point Village.”
“No way! Me too. Small world, huh?”
They set off together toward the festivities, the poodle leading the way.
“Yeah, small world,” she echoed cheerily.
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (9:16 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
LINDBERGH FIELD; SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 65 HOURS 32 MINUTES
Allie was met at the airport by three Secret Service agents—two men, one woman. One of the men—presumably the leader—informed her the president was already at the beach.
“We need to pat you down,” said the female agent.
“Go for it,” Allie said, lifting her arms.
Her gaze drifted eastward toward the morning sun. Sure enough, it was ringed by a gauzy, orangish fringe—proof positive the CME was heading right for Earth.
“It’s already a huge cloud,” Dallan told her just before she departed. “But as it travels across space, it balloons. By the time it reaches us, it’ll be monstrous—probably about fifty million miles across.”
“All set, thanks” the agent said to her, turning then to Eva.
More than anything else right now, Allie wanted to be near her family, to make sure they were all protected against the CME. She wanted to be in Jerusalem looking for Lolo. She wanted to be with Calder, with whom she’d talked a few minutes earlier on the plane after hearing about his collapse on the air that morning.
Sacrifices—always sacrifices.
But what choice did she have? She needed to be here.
Help me, sweet Jesus, my life is out of control.
“Okay,” the lead agent said. “We can go now.”
Allie and the crew followed the dark-suited men and woman to the news van and waited for them to inspect it as well. Once on the road, their motorcade passed through numerous fortified checkpoints. The lead agent explained Mission Beach was closed to the public and so were streets for at least a mile around.
When they arrived, Allie—wired for sound; trailed by Eva and the crew, camera rolling; and flanked by Secret Service Agents—tramped across the sand and waded into the crowd surrounding the chief executive. She approached him with a smile and an extended hand. “Good morning, Mr. President. It’s an honor to meet you.”
She had not voted for him but respected the office.
“Allie, good to meet you. Martha and I watch you all the time. Saw your report this morning.” He gestured to a nearby gray whale struggling for its life and shook his head. “This is just awful. I expect to learn a lot from you today.”
“Yes, sir, whatever I can do. Dr. Sinclair’s very sorry he couldn’t make it. He’s in the hospital and wanted me to give you his warmest regards.”
“Thank you, Allie. I’ll be calling him later today to see how he is. He’s impressed us all with that vehicle of his. Made his country—the world—proud of what he tried to do for the whales.”
As the president’s sprawling entourage walked haltingly along the whale-strewn beach, reporters and TV cameras shadowed the procession like seagulls dogging a fishing boat.
“Allie, tell me, how does this stranding compare to the ones you saw at the other sites?”
The president, though ostensibly addressing her personally, was clearly playing to the cameras and reporters leaning in to record the conversation.
Politicians.
Not that most scientists she interviewed were any different. They too did more than their fair share of spinning and outright dissembling to protect their turf, reputations, and grant monies.
“The only real differences are the species,” she said. “Here in San Diego we’re seeing mostly Eastern North Pacific gray whales. From February till about July these grays migrate from breeding grounds off the coast of Mexico to summering grounds in the Arctic. If everything were normal they’d simply be passing through these waters. This is an atrocity.”
She went on to itemize the other species being affected at the other locations.
“Marty Glauber tells me it’s all being caused by the magnetic holes,” the president said. “You agree?”
Allie knew the president’s science advisor, Martin Glauber, from Harvard. He was a good guy.
“Well,” she said, “it’s the best explanation so far. Whale strandings generally are a mystery to science. We think it has something to do with their built-in compasses getting jammed or sabotaged somehow. Disturbances in the magnetosphere could definitely do that.”
She was tempted to bring up what Dallan had shown her—the image of the resonance pattern. But he’d asked her to wait until it was double-checked.
“And the Japanese,” the president said. “Did they really challenge your presence in Nagasaki? Were you threatened with violence?”
It was all over the news the president was planning to rake the Japanese prime minister over the coals during the G-20 for his country’s ravenous appetite for whale meat.
“Well, I was scared, that’s for sure. They radioed us beforehand, warned us we were approaching their territorial waters. Then they sent the harbor police to chase us away.”
“Would you say your lives were endangered by their actions?”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” Allie was mindful that everything she was saying could—almost certainly would—land on the evening news. “I’m just glad Dr. Sinclair was able to get us out of there fast enough to avoid a real confrontation. If he hadn’t I’m not sure—well, let’s leave it at that.”
Ten minutes later, when the president was ready to depart, he asked her to follow him back to his limo. There he said, “I’d like you and Dr. Sinclair to head up a special emergency task force. I’ve cleared it with Marty. He respects you a lot.”
She was barely able to find her voice. “Yes, sir. But a task force on what?”
“All this,” the president said, motioning widely toward the beach and sky. “Marty tells me it’s all getting worse, the strandings, the magnetic holes—and now the solar threat. The leaders coming to this summit are pressuring me for a solution, for a way to reassure the public. It’s why we didn’t cancel or relocate the summit. We want to show the world we aren’t afraid—and that there’s hope.”
“But what about your safety, sir? And the safety of the other leaders? Aren’t you risking too much just to make sure people don’t overreact?”
“Worldwide hysteria is no small thing, Allie. We need to do everything possible to avert it. Besides, there are contingency plans to insure our safety—but that’s off the record.”
“But why me, Mr. President? There are Nobel Prize winners, even Marty, who are more qualified.”
“Yes and no, Allie. Yes, I could put some pinhead in charge who knows more about one particular subject than you do. But I need someone who has the big picture. You know all the major players; you’re up to speed on everything. You and Dr. Sinclair have just seen firsthand what’s happening all over the world—no one else has.”
“But—”
The president held up his hand. “Allie, I know your plate’s already full; I can understand why you wouldn’t want this kind of responsibility
on top of everything else. But the public knows and trusts you. They relate to you, and you know how to talk to them. That’s extremely important in this case. And you’re a scientist of no small reputation. As I said, Marty was the first to suggest the idea.” He added, “Plus, you know about tight deadlines.”
She smiled weakly. “Well, that much is true.”
“Allie, I’m giving you and Dr. Sinclair the full resources of the White House. Use everything you learned on your mission. Consult with whomever you want anywhere in the world. Form a blue-ribbon panel, whatever, but come up with a plan. And fast. I need to announce a solution by tomorrow evening—at the latest.”
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (9:18 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
SHARP MEMORIAL HOSPITAL; SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 65 HOURS 30 MINUTES
Calder threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, ready to walk. “I’m fine I tell you!” He’d had enough doting from Sager and the doctors. “I just want to get back to Hero and be left in peace.”
He looked away from Sager and chewed on his lower lip.
Oh, c’mon . . . stop acting like a prima donna.
He knew the hospitalization wasn’t to blame for his crabbiness. Nor was it the over-the-top publicity he was getting. Nor even the morning’s abortive TV show—Bradstreet, the loose accusations, the lack of respect.
No, it was Allie and—
His head dropped. He slapped the bed.
I’m just tired.
He reminded himself of what Hero had just accomplished.
You should be dancing in the streets, man!
Sager exploded out of his chair. “Look, Calder, please, just wait till the test results, that’s all.” He brandished an index finger. “And you better get used to all of this. I know it’s a pain. But your life’s never going to be the same, whether you like it or not.”
Calder slowly wagged his lowered head. Lots Sanger knew.
Nothing ever changes for me.
Not for the better.
He breathed hard.
Oh, get off it already!
He lifted his chin, gripping the edge of the mattress. “All right, all right. But only until the test results.”
CHAPTER 29
URGENT BUSINESS
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (7:25 P.M. ISRAEL DAYLIGHT TIME)
JERUSALEM, ISRAEL
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 65 HOURS 23 MINUTES
Lorena pushed back from the dinner table. “Myra, if only we had shawarma this good in the United States. You ought to start a chain.”
“Oh, please,” Myra Hershkovitz demurred. She was collecting the dirty dishes. “It was nothing. If I’d known you were coming I would’ve prepared something special.”
“It was perfect,” Lorena said, feeling genuinely grateful.
Asher jumped out of his seat at the head of the table. “I must turn on the TV. Yonit Levi is doing a news segment on us tonight.”
“Yonit Levi?” Lorena said.
“She’s the anchor of the prime-time news show on Channel 2,” he said from the living room. “Very popular. She interviewed me the other day. I hope they don’t do a hatchet job on us, like the others have.”
After helping Myra clean and put away the dishes, Lorena joined Asher who was glued to the TV set.
“It should be coming on soon,” he said, staring at the screen. “It looks like they’re keeping us for last.”
She gave Asher a gentle pat on the back before taking a seat on the couch next to him. “In the United States we always save the best for last.”
Asher looked away from the set and gave her a warm smile. “It’s good to have you with us.”
“Thank you, Asher, it’s good to be here.” Then she said, “I have a question.”
“Yes?” His eyes remained on the TV set.
“Why did Dayan give religious control of the Temple Mount back to the Muslims right after capturing it? It’s not just because the Mount is considered too sacred for Jews to walk on, right?”
Asher made a face. “Aach! He was afraid of how a billion Muslims and the Jew-hating world would react if Israel were to begin rebuilding the Holy Temple. He was afraid of human beings, you see, not the God of Israel. He did not trust the promises of God, that He would always stand with the forces of Israel, especially when we set out to rebuild His Temple.”
“Do you think—?”
Her attention was snatched away by an image on the TV screen. An image of her.
“Oh, look!” Asher said.
But they both fell silent when they heard the anchor say, “Local police and the U.S. Consulate are asking for the public’s help in locating this missing American woman who disappeared from a hospital in Colorado four days ago. She is now believed to be in the Jerusalem area. The woman’s name is Lorena Armendariz O’Malley. . . .”
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (10:47 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
MISSION BEACH; SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 64 HOURS 1 MINUTE
Allie, having just said good-bye to the president’s science advisor, was about to go looking for Eva when an unmistakable male voice boomed out from behind her.
“Look who’s here,” it said.
She whipped around. Mike Cannatella and Eva were rushing toward her.
“Welcome back, stranger,” he said, offering his hand.
“Mike!” she exclaimed, accepting his hand and pumping it vigorously. “Good to see you, good to see you.”
“Look, I’ve gotta leave with the motorcade but I’ve told Eva some stuff I thought you guys ought to know.” Then he said, “What did you and the president talk about? Anything you can tell me?”
She decided not to be coy with the man who’d always been so forth-coming with her. But she also couldn’t resist turning the tables. She said in a put-on voice, “I’ll tell you, but it’s strictly off the record. Capisce?”
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (10:53 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 63 HOURS 55 MINUTES
They rushed back to the van, Eva demonstrably unhappy about the president’s request of Allie.
“You have no time!” she said, flinging her hands into the air.
Allie ignored Eva’s rant and reached for her cell phone. “I have to tell Calder.”
“But my god, Allie, the G-20 starts tonight. And wait till you hear what Mike just told me.”
Allie stopped mid-dial. “What? What did he say?”
Eva, speaking so rapidly Allie had a hard time following everything, said the FBI lab finished analyzing the CDs the masked man handed out. “The CD contains computer script like they’ve never seen before.”
Allie suddenly felt warm all over. “What do you mean?”
“Mike said it’s like some kind of security code. An antivirus program designed to protect against viruses no one’s ever heard about. It’s got them stumped.”
Allie began twisting a strand of her hair into a corkscrew. “An antivirus program?”
“Miss Armendariz?”
Startled, she looked behind her and saw a youngish, well-groomed Hispanic man dressed in a dark suit. She recognized him as one of the agents who’d been with the president on the beach.
He held out his hand. “I’m Agent David Aragon with the Secret Service. I’ve been asked to stay with you in case you need anything. President’s orders.”
“Really?” She cast a look at Eva who shrugged and smiled ironically. Looking back at the agent, she said, “Well, thank you. That’s, uh, terrific.”
She started walking away, beckoning him to follow. “We were just heading back to the van. We need to get to the ho—“She spun around to look at him. “Actually, you know what? There is something you can do to help me.”
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (11:52 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)
SHARP MEMORIAL HOSPITAL; SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 62 HOURS 56 MINUTES
Calder, in bed propped u
p on pillows, was listening impatiently to the doctor discussing test results.
“The good news is you appear to be healthy as an ox. But you were severely dehydrated when they brought you in. And your body is suffering from extreme exhaustion. I’d prefer it if you stayed here for at least another day; but if you insist, I’ll let you leave, on the condition you go straight home and rest.” He wagged a finger at him. “No work whatsoever, you hear?” He turned to Sager. “And absolutely no more interviews for now. I’m serious.”
Calder thanked the physician and said he wanted to leave immediately.
“Sorry to have been such a bear, doc,” he said, scrambling out of bed. “I just want to get back to Hero; she’s been sitting outside since we arrived.” He added, removing his hospital johnny, “Man, I’ll tell you this much: I wouldn’t be Brad Pitt for a million dollars. Having to deal with all that publicity all the time. It gets old, real fast.”
“Yeah, well, you are him now, like it or not,” Sager said. “I told you—get used to it.”
A few minutes later, when he was dressed and about to sign discharge papers a nurse had just handed him, his cell phone jangled. It was lying on the bed table.
Calder lunged for it. “Hello?”
“Calder, it’s Allie. Are you sitting down?”
SATURDAY, APRIL 29 (12:52 P.M. MOUNTAIN DAYLIGHT TIME)
SPACE WEATHER PREDICTION CENTER; BOULDER, COLORADO
ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 62 HOURS 56 MINUTES
Dallan, at his desk nervously twiddling a pencil, was on the phone with Detective William Brady of the Denver Police Department. “I wish I could find a way out but I just can’t.”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose.
Oh, Lolo, please be okay.
Please forgive me.
“I understand completely, Dr. O’Malley, I’ll notify the Israeli authorities right away.”
“Thank you, detective. Tell them I plan to fly over there right after all of this blows over.”
The Null Prophecy Page 20
