Fresh air blew against the president’s face. A cascading sequence of lights illuminated a long square corridor leading straight into the hill. They followed it, passing through numerous blast doors along the way. The president was informed that they would all be secured before the military men left.
The president wondered why Jack thought an unassuming hill would yield more protection than an entire mountain. Then they came to an open-cage mining elevator, and things quickly started to make sense. The elevator dropped for several minutes through the earth’s strata before they exited—only to walk to another elevator cage several hundred feet away. They zigzagged deeper into the earth this way for another hour.
Before the military men left, they told the president he would be contacted in approximately twenty-four hours. The closing of the final blast door left him and his two protectors in complete silence, and his imagination conjured up a suffocating feeling of compression from the incredible mass of surrounding rock. They had to be more than a mile underground.
The president’s Secret Service men secured the facility. They soon confirmed that there were no threats, and that there was enough food and water to last years.
The president ventured off to investigate his new home away from home, and he found it woefully lacking. The place resembled a time capsule. A museum of outdated technology, containing relics from well before his era. How was he supposed to run a country when the only phone to be found was a nonfunctioning antique? A black Western Electric 302 on a pedestal covered by a dusty glass dome.
CHAPTER 68
The lights of Las Vegas began igniting as twilight descended upon the city. Jessica contemplated the scientific achievements involved in transitioning from natural to man-made light while standing behind the thick glass of her suite windows. The war she was tasked to start threatened everything in her span of vision. She wondered if she would act when the moment came.
If not me, then who?
This was her endgame. The most dangerous part of her mission. She had already lit the fuse. She hoped the end result wouldn’t blow up in her face.
When she’d returned to her suite after the meeting, she’d discovered signs that someone had rifled through her belongings. The old trick of wetting a strand of hair and placing it in strategic locations had served her well. Someone had entered her balcony and bedroom, and it certainly wasn’t housekeeping. They’d even inspected her underwear drawer. Of all the places to discover an intrusion, that was the one she’d most dreaded. Perverts! Fortunately, she’d preemptively stashed a few pairs in the room safe. It made her skin crawl to think about touching the ones in the drawer now.
She found it decidedly abnormal to try to go about her normal routine when she knew they were listening in on her. When James returned in the morning, loudly announcing the arrival of her breakfast, she met him with a finger to her lips. She tapped her ear and gestured toward the room. He nodded his understanding, pointed a thumb at his chest, and gave her the “okay” sign with a winning smile. She felt much better knowing that he had come to no serious harm.
That relief waned as the day wore on. She had made it clear in her original hiring interview that she didn’t want to work on the development of new weapons. Now, instead, she was about to unleash a weapon. She didn’t know which was worse; the end result would be the same however she looked at it.
Time’s up.
Jessica closed her eyes to the twinkling city and tried to set it in her memory. She hoped the lights would still be there tomorrow.
CHAPTER 69
“We should kill her.”
Fan Kong had listened to such grumblings from his underlings all day. They lacked the finesse and wisdom needed for the bigger picture. Yes, they should kill her. But not until she furnished them with needed information. Fan knew his government would pay her full asking price, if she could prove everything she promised. Fusion would lift a great burden from a Chinese empire starving for energy. They would no longer need to bow to imperialist demands. It was unconscionable that America should possess such technology and China should not. It also disrupted the global balance of power.
Every effort had been made to locate the person with whom she had made her first deal, but the man had simply vanished. No record of him even existed. It didn’t make sense. A person worth billions had to exist somewhere. And naturally, this made Fan’s government suspicious. This man couldn’t be working on his own behalf; he had to be a front for another country. Russia, most likely, though Russia denied it. They would deny the sun rising on their own country if it served their interests.
Still, the fact remained that she had sold something to someone. One does not pay that kind of money for nothing. And Fan would find out her something. If she did not tread carefully, she would be the one who paid.
“She’s here. And she insults you again.”
Jessica strode in wearing a white dress. The color for funerals. How prophetic, Miss Stafford.
He bowed slightly to her. “Welcome back, Miss Stafford. I trust you slept well?”
She exhibited beauty without question, though dark thoughts seemed to cloud her expression. She also seemed irritable and in no mood for pleasantries. Perhaps she thought her position in this transaction weak and could be motivated to cut her demands? Fan planned to make this difficult for her.
“I slept quite all right,” said Jessica dismissively. “Does your government accept my offer?” She held up a matte black cigar-sized cylinder. “Or shall I find a buyer for this elsewhere?”
Fan’s lieutenant took a step toward her.
“Ah, ah.” She waved the cylinder gently. “The information in this is protected by a self-destructing incendiary charge. If it drops, or if someone tries to open it improperly… poof.”
Fan uttered an order in Chinese for his man to step back. “Information,” he said to Miss Stafford, “does not fulfill your burden of proof.”
The girl eyed his man warily. “I would like to continue this conversation on the balcony. Alone,” she said. She looked distressed. Good. He did not need the presence of his men to foster that feeling in her.
“Very well,” Fan said. “After you?”
Jessica strode to the breezy platform, nervously tapping the cylinder on her palm. Fan followed closely at her side. She walked to the far edge and leaned against a polished gold rail. It would be so easy, Fan thought, to push her over and be done with this fawn. Of all those he and his men had disposed of, none had met the fate of a one-hundred-story drop. She shall be the first, he decided.
“Proof,” Fan spat.
“Proof,” Jessica pointed in a northwesterly direction, “is at the accelerator base. They currently have the only functioning model in the world. I have”—she lightly tapped the cylinder on the rail; Fan cringed—“the formulas and equipment specifications to build one.”
Does she realize how badly she weakens her position?
“Without concrete proof, I am afraid that my government cannot meet your asking price, Miss Stafford. You waste my time.”
She fidgeted fearfully. She will know fear, Fan promised himself. The minutes she had left to enjoy her newfound wealth diminished by the second. If she only knew how many billions his government had been willing to pay for the contents of that cylinder. The cylinder she had so foolishly brought with her…
“I have a counteroffer then,” she said, as Fan knew she would. “Since I cannot provide you with a working model in a reasonable amount of time, I will reduce my asking price to fifty billion. Half the original amount. I think that is fair.”
“No, Miss Stafford, it is not,” Fan replied. He enjoyed her discomfort. He noticed her hands trembling. She would take anything he offered now. Or perhaps give anything he demanded when faced with a deadly alternative. “I am authorized to offer you one billion. No more.”
Her pupils dilated in fear. Fan had learned much in reading people across a poker table—though he had never possessed the luck required to win. S
he would fold, if not kneel before him and beg for more. He wished her dress showed more cleavage.
Her face suddenly hardened. This puzzled Fan. She made a fist around the cylinder, and her pupils constricted like coiling snakes. Her irises reflected the dominant red colors bleeding through his massive suite windows. She took a sharp intake of breath as if she were about to breathe flames.
“And this is my final offer,” she fired back. “With one hundred billion, I could have made myself comfortable somewhere no matter what you did with this technology. Now I have to ensure you don’t botch up the planet by making weapons from it. Before I was fired from my job, I stumbled across a very interesting report about your government and its weapons programs.”
Fan forced himself to swallow. What is she getting at? What could she possibly know about our weapons programs?
“If you want this technology,” she said, brandishing the cylinder at him, “you’re going to have to pay me twenty-five billion dollars, American—or I’ll let the rest of the world know about your kinetic and nuclear space-based weapons platforms.”
“No!” The word escaped Fan’s mouth involuntarily. He said it in response to her knowledge of the weapons, not the money she demanded. He didn’t mean to say it at all. She had surprised him.
In his position, he had to know something of his country’s greatest secrets; it was necessary if he was to be effective in culling truth from fiction in his dealings. So he knew that China’s space-based weapons were the darkest and most closely guarded of these secrets. They were China’s only assurance of first-strike capability. And if she knew, then her government did as well. This was disastrous. If she revealed it to the world…
“Then we are through here,” said Jessica.
With a simple flick of her wrist, she flipped the cylinder in a high arc out from the rail.
Fan instinctively reached for it. A useless gesture. He had no chance of catching it. She had embarrassed him again by making him act like a dog, snapping at a tossed treat. He watched the cylinder fall until he could no longer see it. When he turned back, Jessica had already marched past his men. She paused to peer back at him with a curious smile. Fan clenched his jaw. She had better learn how to fly before the end of day.
“And don’t think about threatening me,” she said. “I have numerous countdown notifiers in operation to release your secret, with proof, should you prevent me from pausing them in any way.” Jessica strolled out as if she hadn’t a care in the world, head held high and shoulders back.
“You’re letting her go?” Fan’s lieutenant asked.
“For now,” said Fan. “I have to contact our government immediately. Take Gang, find Sebastian, then take him to the airport. I am sure we will be leaving soon. The rest of you: make sure the girl does not leave this hotel!”
CHAPTER 70
A half bottle of whiskey and a fully loaded pistol rested on the table. Sebastian knew the bottle held enough courage for him to use the gun. It was funny, he thought, how everyone wanted to shoot him, and yet he would be the one who finally pulled the trigger to finish the job.
He’d often wondered what thoughts a man might battle with before sending a bullet to chase them away. Pain? Despair? Hopelessness? Well, two out of three worked.
The whiskey did a fair job on the pain, at least.
He’d used the last of his money on the hotel room and booze. It wasn’t even a nice room. Not like Jessica’s. He wanted to be rich and powerful like her. The bitch didn’t even know how to use her money and power. If he had it, he would be somebody. But now, he drank to being a failure. A fraud. A parasite! Alcohol mercilessly revealed the truth to him; it was the cheapest truth serum money could buy.
Still, it had its purpose. With a finger on the trigger, he upended the bottle and attempted to swill the amber liquid as fast as he could. If he did this quickly and stopped being so analytical, it would be over quicker.
When his door blasted off its hinges, he saw two men, no, three—maybe it was two—rush toward him. Before he could react, they secured his gun and frog-marched him out to the hallway.
Ah, they do need me, Sebastian thought.
CHAPTER 71
Deeply shadowed lunar craters drifted serenely below Mykl’s window as their plane executed a wide loop to approach the mythical “dark side” of the moon. In reality, it received as much light as any other side of the moon, but since observers on Earth couldn’t see it, they assumed it was dark. In the current position of its rotational cycle, shadows spilled miles long at every crater. The craft’s wing coloration fluctuated to match the surface like lazy waves rolling on an ocean.
The plane’s momentum and elevation dropped as they approached their destination: Hippocrates Crater. By now, Noah rarely made appearances outside of Stinker, but Mykl held the bear up in case his friend wished to witness another moon landing. Long whiskers protruding from beneath the bear’s arm lightly brushed the diamond-clear window.
The plane came to a hovering stop. Midway up the crater face, mere feet from the rounded nose, a section of rock split in two. A sharp clunk jolted them as something latched on, and they were slowly pulled inside. The rock closed behind them as they passed, leaving them in total darkness.
Bright lights suddenly flashed on all around the plane. Mykl flinched and squinted against the harsh illumination. A squeak from Stinker told him that he wasn’t the only one startled. They were floating in a gigantic hangar. Mykl counted seven similar planes docked to their right.
Jack emerged from the cockpit. “Welcome to the moon, Mykl.”
Mykl pointed to the other planes. “How many people are here?”
Another solid kachunk resounded from the front exit hatch.
“Most of our Operations staff have been relocated here temporarily,” Jack said. “That’s why the City has been so empty, in case you were wondering. There are one hundred and seventeen people working here at present.”
“And how many total?”
“We have thousands in cold sleep chambers in the deeper levels of the base.” Jack seemed to be more forthright now; maybe because Mykl finally knew what questions to ask.
“How long has this been here?”
A hissing sound emanated above the front exit hatch.
“Five years after the last publicly known manned landing, this facility became operational.”
Outside the window, suited figures on tethers began inspecting and securing the plane. Mykl poked his thumb in their direction. “There’s no atmosphere out there?”
Jack leaned down to see what Mykl was pointing at. “The lunar hangar is quite large; it would be impractical to maintain an atmosphere in it. Also, in the unlikely event of a leak, people on Earth would suddenly be wondering why the moon was off-gassing oxygen. Can’t have that, now can we?”
The hissing stopped, and the hatch swung inward.
“Clear the settings on your jumpsuit once we’re past the main airlock,” Jack said. “You won’t need magnetic assistance beyond that.” He retrieved Mykl’s duffel from an overhead bin.
Mykl thought for a moment. “You control gravity here,” he said.
“That’s right. If we didn’t, prolonged exposure to the weak lunar pull would play havoc on our bodies. You can adjust it to moon-actual in your quarters. It aids sleeping, and, as I’m sure you’ll find out, it’s Noah’s favorite part about being here.”
“Aren’t there satellites and other devices that can detect gravitational anomalies?” Mykl asked as he secured Stinker under his arm. “I mean, how do people on Earth not know we’re here?”
Jack put a hand on Mykl’s shoulder. He took slow steps with him into the enclosed walkway that had been extended out to the plane. “If we didn’t control the chips on all of their sensors, they would. But we can, and we do. The only anomalies they see on the moon are the ones we want them to see.”
“You want them to see anomalies?” Mykl asked.
“There are always anomalies. To not
have any would be suspicious in itself.”
Mykl stumbled over a raised seam in the walkway. He felt like he was falling in slow motion. Jack caught him by the shoulder strap of his jumpsuit and planted him firmly back on the ground.
“It takes considerably more concentration to walk in lunar gravity until you become accustomed to it,” he said. “Oh, and I wouldn’t advise jumping on the bed.” He leaned down to whisper to him so Dr. Lee wouldn’t hear. “Unless you have the gravity on full Earth norm,” he added with a wink.
They reached the main airlock. As Mykl’s leg passed over the threshold, it felt suddenly heavy, and as though he was being pulled through the opening. Noah gave a muffled squeak. After two days of weightlessness, full gravity felt oddly strenuous.
Mykl followed Jack through a portal like those installed at the City. A tram exactly like the ones on Earth waited for them.
“Are we there yet?” Mykl asked.
Jack laughed. “The main base rings a craterlet inside a larger crater named Byrd.”
“Like the explorer?”
Jack gave Mykl a scrutinizing look. “You really have spent some significant time exploring the nets to know such trivia.”
Mykl shrugged.
“Yes, the explorer,” Jack said. “There are some adherents who believe that during his explorations, he found the Earth to be hollow. They also think he encountered someone not of this world who warned him that man should pursue peace over the horrors of war.”
“Did he?” Mykl asked. “Meet someone not of this world?”
“Then? No, most likely not,” Jack replied. “If the same thing happened today…? There would probably be a great deal of truth to it.”
The Prometheus Effect Page 33
