“Of course,” Bertrand replied, genuine relief clear in his voice. “So you agree with our plan?”
Stravinsky walked to his chair, then looked back at the wall display, which had reverted to the image of the elliptical orbit, frozen at the instant before the Moon impacts the planet. There was no alternative. We’re out of time, Norman thought. The Moon will turn this planet to rubble long before I can get an executive order from the President to repair Mekhos. He turned to face Bertrand.
“Kratos. God of War. That was what you christened it after I left. I never much cared for that name. Where and how did you get the replacement processors, by the way?”
“Never mind, Norman. It’s a matter best kept out of conversations and communications. After this is over we’ll all be heroes.”
– 99 –
Rector had moved to the suburbs. He was sitting in a new sports bar at a large big box retail community that was relentlessly encroaching on the surrounding forested land. It was the kind of area that catered to the automobile rather than pedestrians. Because the subdivision and the giant shopping plaza was so new, the CCTV surveillance system was nowhere near fully functional. Rector knew it because he’d checked it out beforehand. That and the large, dense, noisy crowd would make it difficult for him to be spotted.
The bar was hosting a Moon party, and the outdoor patio was packed and loud. All the television screens were displaying newscasts on the Moon’s return, since the natural satellite had now officially reached its proper distance from earth. The mood of the patrons was one of elation, as if their favorite team was on the verge of winning a championship. Some of them remarked that the Moon appeared larger than they remembered.
What was most fascinating to the excited bar crowd was the fact that part of the far side of the Moon, the side that was normally always facing away from earth, was now visible for the first time since life had began on the planet. Its texture was a far more uniform grey, with a seemingly infinite number of craters. It lacked the familiar dark basaltic plains that are so prominently visible on the near side. Television commentators speculated that Mekhos would eventually rotate the Moon back into its proper alignment, but for now people were marveling at its uncharacteristic appearance.
Rector finished his drink and returned to his car. He headed towards a small independent radio station nearby, one that had an employee that he trusted.
– 100 –
Doug was given a luxury suite at a downtown Seattle hotel. The room was exceptionally well appointed. The wall opposite the king-sized bed was a huge view screen that could be programmed to display any wallpaper pattern, work of art, nature scene or it could be used as a television. There was a fully stocked bar. The sliding glass doors to the balcony were locked, but still afforded a great view of the city skyline. He was allowed use of the hotel dining room, but only when escorted by two armed plainclothes agents. Two agents were stationed outside the door around the clock.
Doug flipped through some channels looking for a news program. The dominant news stories had not changed, with updates on the Moon’s progress and weather reports as the intensity of tides began to return. There were also health stories about continuing increases in most age-related ailments among a significant number of the population.
He turned off the screen and sat in the conformal chair at the desk, closing his eyes for a moment. He was tired, strained and anxious. Despite his physical and mental state, he couldn’t help but wish he had such a comfortable chair back home in his own office.
He considered what to do next. There was no way to contact Jamieson, Persaud, Bishop, Rector or Stravinsky. On top of it all, he was angry that the mission they had trained so hard for was falling apart.
Doug was jolted back to the present by a knock on the door.
“Just a minute!” Doug called, rubbing his eyes for a moment. He stood up, stretched and rubbed his neck, then walked over and opened the door.
Leach and Paulson were standing in the hall. Doug nodded them in. They stood for a moment on the carpeting just inside the entrance to the room and looked around for a moment. Doug thought they looked pale and haggard. Leach seemed to be slightly stooped, which is not how he’d looked when Doug had first met him. They’re probably just as tired as me.
Doug was an honored prisoner in a luxury hotel suite and the irony was not lost on Leach and Paulson. Doug walked over to the bar to dig out a drink.
“You have an appointment with Carl Bertrand downstairs.” Leach said after a moment. It was a command, not an invitation.
Doug nodded at the two men, but continued to the small bar. He chose a fancy water from the refrigerator, leaned on the counter and opened the bottle.
“There is some urgency here, Mr. Lockwood,” Paulson said tightly, watching Doug take a few swallows of water.
Hmm, Doug thought, I’m not Dr. Lockwood when they’re trying to press me.
“I just got here,” Doug replied. “I’m thirsty and I’m exhausted. Give me a minute.” Doug took another drink from the bottle and then recapped it. None of his nonchalance was an act. It was just that he was too tired to be combative.
He reached for his jacket and put it on as he followed Leach and Paulson to the elevator. Nobody spoke, but it occurred to Doug that he was learning to think strategically. In the last couple of days he had made it a point to concentrate exactly as Bishop had told him – watch, listen, say as little as possible, and observe everything. His surroundings, his handlers, and any conversations he overheard. When asking questions he tried to phrase them in ways that elicited as much information as possible.
“I was also scheduled to meet Norman Stravinsky,” Doug said, as if nothing unusual had happened. “Is he with Bertrand, or will I be meeting him later?”
“Mr. Stravinsky is on a separate assignment with TranSilica, and isn’t available for a meeting,” replied Leach. “You know that already.”
“Things change,” Doug replied, shrugging his shoulders. Leach and Paulson turned to looked at him.
“Putting Norman Stravinsky and I together might turn out to be a very good thing to do for both our worlds. It’s never a bad idea to put positively motivated people together.”
Leach and Paulson looked away and remained silent.
Doug thought that Stravinsky probably returned to the authorities voluntarily with the idea that he would be allowed to repair any damage Mekhos suffered. But Carl Bertrand was pulling strings behind the scenes. He had given the government back on Earth information that allowed Bishop to infiltrate the MC and carry out the attack. It didn’t make sense that Stravinsky would be allowed to attend to Mekhos. Maybe the computer genius was being held against his will after all.
The elevator doors opened and the three men walked to a private conference room. Bertrand and another man were already present, standing in conversation near an overstocked refreshment table. They looked over at the trio.
“Dr. Lockwood, welcome,” said Bertrand. They shook hands. “I’m very sorry for your ordeal. Let’s sit down and have a chat.”
Leach and Paulson helped themselves to coffee and sat at a separate table, joining the man Bertrand had been talking to.
“First of all, allow me to congratulate you on becoming a citizen of our country.”
Doug stared at Bertrand for a moment, silent. Then he held up his wrist and looked curiously at the Raim. Despite its presence on his wrist, he had essentially ignored it. The materials with which it was made rendered it lightweight and barely noticeable. He felt as if he were seeing it for the first time.
“That’s a little presumptuous, Carl. Citizenship in my country is not something we readily dualize, much less willingly give up in favor of another no matter what the circumstances,” Doug replied mildly. “This high tech bracelet doesn’t easily break the bonds forged over generations or over my own lifetime.”
“Come now Doug. After all we’ve been through, we’re all friends here. We worked together closely for a few weeks, went
our separate ways, and now it’s time to collaborate once again.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not eager to punch a time clock with you, Carl. We trusted you because we were desperate. We’re not foolish enough to expect you will have my people’s best interests at heart now, or that you ever did.”
“The mission was to our mutual benefit. Thanks to your actions, many objectives were reached.”
“Objectives? None of mine, Carl.” Doug exclaimed. “It’s all gone your way because you’ve been a step ahead of us since before we ever realized there were steps. My own people reacted stupidly, but also played into your hands perfectly. Foley is dead. Persaud and Jamieson are in jail. The situation regarding my world is unchanged. We face the gravest danger in our history. This you know.”
“Your people and your planet will survive. We will assist where possible, including the planned positioning of a reflective array to simulate moon phases. Other initiatives, the replacement of the Moon to bring back tides, are out of our hands.”
Bertrand leaned close to Doug to ensure that nobody else in the room could hear him.
“It is unfortunate that your friend Dr. Foley lost his life during the attempt to carry out his mission. Although I was working with certain members of your government, I was not informed of that aspect of the plan. So you see, I was deceived, just as you were.”
“I concede that,” Doug said very quietly in return. “The result, at least so far though, is the same as if my government had acted less foolishly. The offer of quasi-simulation of moon phases, relief supplies of food and other sorts of support have been repeated often since I arrived here. It’s like a mantra. Repeated often enough, it will somehow minimize in all your minds the loss of billions of lives on my world over the next few years? And now you expect me to remain here and appear on talk shows, while civilization on my world collapses.”
Bertrand frowned.
“Our projections,” he said, “are more optimistic than those of Mekhos. There will be some impact, but the reflective array and the gift to your world of new high-yield grains will prevent the massive food shortages seen in the worst case scenario. We predict only a small negative effect on your planet.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence Carl. The same thing must apply to your world,” Doug said, breaking his new rule not to reveal what he was thinking, “so why did Mekhos go to the trouble of stealing my Moon?”
Bertrand had been about to say something but closed his mouth. He had not predicted that Lockwood would ask that question. He thought Lockwood would be so concerned with pleading for help that the obvious might be set aside, at least for a while. Doug ignored Bertrand’s obvious silence.
“When will Dr. Persaud, Commander Jamieson and agent Bishop be released?”
“Eventually,” Bertrand replied quickly, “once the official investigations have concluded. With the exception of Bishop, who has for now been deemed a military threat if not an outright terrorist, we have no desire to jail any members of your team.”
Doug looked over at the other table. He realized that Leach, Paulson and the other man had not said a word and had not even looked over at him or Bertrand since entering the conference room. They’re not concerned about our whispering. They’re either deferring to Carl Bertrand, Doug thought, or they’re letting Carl run the show until he starts to screw up and they have to step in, or Carl simply has more authority than anyone else in the room.
“What do you want from me, Carl?”
“We would like you to go on record stating that Mekhos was bent on the destruction of your world. You know this to be true. We simply want you to explain how the quantum supercomputer was a menace not only to your world, but would likely have turned on us as well.”
“So you and your cohorts can take the place of Mekhos as the corporate managers and directors of FLO, of your Earth. People won’t take kindly to that, especially given the prosperity they have thus far enjoyed because of Mekhos. Somewhere in all this proposed PR I have to also persuade those with the power to act to help save my planet. I’m going to keep repeating that Carl, until such time as it sinks in. Basically, I can’t figure out if you’re my best hope or if you’re the cleverest con man I’ve ever met.”
He didn’t believe that Bertrand would offer him any advantage directly, but Doug had no other hand to play. Bertrand had offered him, obliquely, a chance to participate in what Doug believed was complete public relations fiction about Bertrand’s real plan, TranSilica’s real plan and, for all Doug knew, the collusive plans of the major governments on FLO. Doug had to be sure that Bertrand either trusted him to play his role or was willing to put him in front of some group or individual that would offer some leverage.
Bertrand leaned back, raising his hand and shaking his head.
“No, no,” he said emphatically. Dr. Lockwood...Doug...we recognize the need for good government and the need for decentralized power. We are activating a less powerful quantum computer to manage economic affairs. It will have unquestioned human oversight. However, some members of the public are suspicious of the attack on the MC. We must be seen to have just cause in removing Mekhos.”
“I see,” Doug replied, struggling to revise his thinking and factor in a huge new variable. A less powerful computer, but one which is under Bertrand’s control? It would give Bertrand and his people an astonishing amount of political, economic and social influence all over the world. The man is even more ambitious than I gave him credit for. It was probably his true mission all along.
“Is it Norman Stravinsky’s job to help activate one of his earlier QC prototypes? Is that the real reason I haven’t been allowed to meet with him?”
Bertrand raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. You’ve studied our recent science history quite intensively. Stravinsky is helping us with that as I speak. Quite willingly I might add.”
I seriously doubt that.
“I would like a meeting with Stravinsky,” Doug said firmly, knowing the answer in advance. Doug could play simple strategy games too.
“I’m sorry, that is out of the question.”
“Then I demand my team be released, including Bishop who will act as my personal bodyguard as long as I’m here.”
Bertrand chuckled.
“You don’t need a bodyguard, Doug. And we are about to publicly name Bishop as the agent behind the attack.”
“Cancel that announcement. Apparently you have the authority to do that and it will be better for your PR campaign anyway. If you want any public statement I make to have any credibility it would be unwise to name an associate of mine as a terrorist. With Mekhos distracted you can make up any story you want regarding the attackers and release Bishop. That is the condition of my cooperation.”
Bertrand thought for a moment as he stirred his coffee. An unarmed, monitored Bishop wouldn’t be much of a threat. He could always be blamed and jailed later when this was over.
“I will consider it. However, if members of your team are released, all of your meetings with them will be supervised.”
Bertrand waved to the other table at the man he had been talking to when Doug arrived. The man walked over, handing Doug a folder.
“This is your itinerary. There will be several interviews with news media over the next few days,” said Bertrand. “Please look it over this afternoon. We start two days from now.”
“I’ll need an official release,” Doug said as he looked over the schedule, “exonerating Bishop of unspecified wrongdoing. Same goes for Persaud and Jamieson.” He looked up at Bertrand. “It will probably be best if the releases are arranged within the next few hours.”
“You don’t trust us,” Bertrand stated flatly. “Even though I’m about to release your people, you don’t trust me personally.”
“You don’t trust me or my people either, Carl,” Doug replied, “and it’s plain to see that neither of us should make the mistake of thinking that the other is naïve. But I believe that cooperating with you is the
only hope I’ve got, the only hope my people have got for any chance at creating a solution for the disaster looming on the horizon. Trust is something else entirely.”
“Trust is a commodity in short supply right now,” said Bertrand as he pushed back his chair. “On that we can agree without a doubt.”
Bertrand stood up, nodded at his assistant again and the two of them left the room without another word, leaving Doug to look over the folder. He thought about his next possible moves.
At an earlier time in his career when faced with a scenario seemingly out of his control, Doug would likely have carried out any instructions laid out before him believing that he had little choice. But since he had been exposed to such high-stakes political gamesmanship over the last few months, he was learning to think on his feet. He wracked his mind for any sort of edge. The concession to release Bishop, Jamieson and Persaud was a win, but it had come at a cost. Bertrand could play his PR campaign in any way that suited him, even if it meant a change of course that ended with Doug being thrown to the lions.
“I’m going back to my room,” he informed Leach and Paulson, as he stood up and turned toward the door. Leach and Paulson got up from their table and followed Doug out the door into the hallway leading to the elevator. Doug walked at a brisk pace, so the agents had to trot to catch up to him.
Doug was thinking intently in the elevator, ignoring his escort. Could I contact Norman Stravinsky directly, using my Raim?
Doug had asked a few people about how the Raim worked and although most of them gave vague answers, he was able to piece together some general principles. The bracelet was essentially one of the key interface components in a global smart web. It had actually worked on Earth if only in a limited way. The Raim was also used by Mekhos and various governments to keep track of citizens for their own protection, but also as a tool against dissenters and criminals, who had less access to advanced functions and searches. Some had no access whatsoever.
Dark Nights Page 30
