by Alton Gansky
“I don’t get it,” Larimore said. “What was the purpose?”
“To get you to leave,” Enkian said. “And to slow any return. You can tell by the number of men I have that I’m in need of quality shelter. You have it. It doesn’t make much sense to destroy what I can take.”
“You expected us to see the bomb then leave?” Perry said. “How did you expect us to leave?”
“You were supposed to find it before the transport left,” Enkian said. “Apparently my man failed to plant enough hints.”
“The same man that died in the crash?”
“His life counted for something,” Enkian said.
Larimore croaked out a small laugh. “I thought Griffin planted it.”
“I was thinking you did,” Jack said. He then asked Enkian, “Why kill all the radios if you thought we’d be leaving?”
“Contingency, Mr. Dyson. No plan is complete without several layers of backup plans. There was always the chance that someone like you or Mr. Sachs would stay behind with the equipment. Your exploits precede you, you know.”
“I guess your backup plan failed,” Larimore said.
“I’ll admit the first one did. But I have more. Many more.”
“And here we were suspecting one another,” Perry said.
“I’m glad to have provided you with some entertainment,” Enkian remarked. “Of course, now you have a bigger problem, don’t you?”
“But the bomb did go off,” Gwen said. “It exploded on the snowmobile.”
“That’s why children aren’t allowed to play with explosives,” Tia said. “Most likely the vibration from the snowmobile made an unintended connection.”
“I think this is it,” Sarah said.
Perry stood close enough to see the monitor but not as close as he would have liked. The onboard camera showed nothing but darkness.
A minute passed. Another.
Perry let his eyes drift to the aluminum support structure and the support line that was attached to Hairy two miles below. It snapped taut, then went slack. The pulley system was robotic. As soon as the line went slack, it began to reel in the extra line. The steel cable and black, plastic-coated fiber optics wrapped around the drum pulleys. The whine of the motors filled the Chamber. Gwen and Griffin took a step back.
“We’re through!” Sarah shouted. “We did it!”
Then came a whistling sound. Air was being driven up through the shaft, air that had not been to the surface in eons. In an odd moment of detachment Perry wondered if it would have an odor. He prepared himself for an onrush of wind. It didn’t come. Instead of a windstorm there was a slight breeze which diminished a moment later. It was as if the ground burped.
“As I expected,” Griffin said. “There was a chance of a large quantity of trapped air, but the odds favored less air. Of course, under pressure, much of the gas would be in solution.”
“Hairy is coming up,” Sarah said.
Again, Perry found himself holding his breath. They had broken through, according to Sarah, at negative 3,642 meters. Sarah began to count the numbers off. Hairy’s depth was decreasing.
“Thirty-six hundred . . . thirty-four . . . thirty-two . . .”
“It’s rising like a cork,” Jack said.
“Three thousand . . .” She paused. “Slowing . . . twenty-eight hundred . . .”
“That would be some elevator ride,” Gleason remarked, his eyes fixed on the dials.
“Twenty-five hundred . . . holding . . . holding. It’s stopped.”
Perry began breathing again.
“A third of the way,” Griffin said. “Just as I predicted.”
The retaining line slowed to a stop.
“How’s the probe?” Perry asked.
“Hairy is . . .” Sarah studied the display. “Fine. We have readings from all the sensors.”
“Gleason, the rigging?”
“Perfect. No splaying and no crimping. The autoreverse worked as designed.”
“Shall I activate the lights?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” Enkian snapped. “And let’s remember who is in charge.”
“Whatever,” Sarah said. “I’ve been through too much today to care.”
It was an odd response from her, and it took Perry a second to realize what she was doing. She was cultivating a sense of apathy. If she could trick herself into indifference, then maybe she could ward off another narcolepsy attack. It was a brave front, but he doubted that she could pull it off for long.
The large plasma screen had been filled with virtual gauges and dials. A small heater kept the screen functioning in the freezing Chamber. The pale, solid background gave way to black.
“Camera remains.” She entered a few keystrokes. Enkian had ordered her hands freed, as well as the others’. With over fifty armed men surrounding the research team, there was little need for re-straints. “Light shields retracting.” She paused as if for effect, her finger hovering over one of the keyboard’s function keys. Perry didn’t need to be a psychic to know that she hesitated out of reverence for the moment. They were about to see what no one had seen before.
She tapped the key.
Jeter was reaching inside his suit coat when Steve Belanger seized his arm and pushed him back until the chair flipped backward. The two men fell to the plush carpeting.
“What are you doing?” Jeter demanded.
“Mr. President, get out!” Belanger called.
“Get off me!” Jeter shouted.
Doors to the Oval Office sprang open and four Secret Service men rushed into the room, guns drawn. Jeter turned and saw the confusion on their faces. Wordlessly, two of them grabbed the president’s arms and pushed him from the Oval Office, his feet barely touching the floor.
“Wait a minute,” Calvert said. The Secret Service disobeyed and continued to remove the president.
“He’s reaching for a gun,” Belanger shouted.
Jeter felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. He also felt the weight of the FBI director suddenly removed from his chest.
“Sit down,” the agent ordered Belanger.
“How dare you!” Belanger protested. “I’m the director of—”
“I know who you are, sir. Sit down. No one moves until I say.” He raised a small radio to his lips. “Close us down.”
Jeter knew that at that moment, every key person in the West Wing was being shuttled to a safe place. Every gate was being locked. Tour groups were being told to leave. Secret Service agents were swarming the halls and the eighteen acres of grounds. He didn’t move. Not with the business end of a handgun pressing against his scalp.
The agent above held the gun steady with one hand while patting Jeter’s chest and side. Jeter could see his perplexity. Holding a gun on a man he had seen every day, a man he knew was the president’s right-hand man was something he had never expected. Jeter also knew that the men and women of the Secret Service took their work very seriously. The safety of the president was their primary concern. Everyone else was secondary—including the chief of staff.
Next, the agent opened Jeter’s twisted coat, reached into the pocket, and removed two envelopes. He handed them to his partner as other agents descended on the location.
Seconds passed like hours as Jeter was searched top to bottom. Only then was he allowed to stand. He saw the others being searched as well. The agents were efficient, serious and nonplussed. They had just held at gunpoint and searched the persons of the directors of the FBI and CIA, the secretary of homeland security, and the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff. None of the men complained. It would have done them no good.
Twenty minutes later President Calvert stormed into the Oval Office, accompanied by two agents whom he let know in the most colorful of terms his displeasure. “Yanked from my own office like a rag doll. There’s no honor in that.”
“Sir, we were only doing our job.”
“I know, but I’m angry and you’re close by. I would like to be alone w
ith my security staff please. It was all just a misunderstanding.”
The agents left, but Jeter knew they weren’t far away.
“You had better explain yourself,” the president demanded. “I just had both arms dislocated because of you and Steve.”
“I thought he was reaching for a weapon,” Belanger complained. “What was I supposed to do?”
Jeter answered for the president. “You did the right thing. I would have done the same.” He reached for the two envelopes and handed one to the president, who opened it without hesitation and with adrenaline-driven animation.
“This is your resignation,” he said, surprised.
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“What’s in the other envelope?”
Jeter hesitated then handed it to his boss.
Calvert opened it and removed a folded photo. He studied it a moment then said, “It gives me chills.” He passed it around, and each man looked at the image of Courtney and the crosshairs.
“By telling me all this, you may be choosing your country over your daughter?”
Tears ran from Jeter’s eyes, but he was too tired, too frightened to care. He just nodded. “I can’t do what they ask. They have done wonderful things for me, but I can’t do what they ask—not even to save my daughter.”
“Help us find these people,” the president said.
“I don’t know how,” Jeter admitted. “They’re everywhere: in Congress, in the various departments of government. Two are standing right here.”
“Yes,” the president said. “What am I going to do with you boys?”
“Wow,” Gleason said.
“Amen to that,” Jack said.
Perry inched closer to the monitor. The area was crowded with Enkian, Tia, and his crew vying for a direct line of sight. Perry was looking at a sight from another world. Light from Hairy’s nose streamed through crystal-clear water that was dotted with floating bits of white.
“It’s like having tunnel vision,” Jack said.
He was right. The strong light pierced the water and illuminated the white ice walls of the shaft. “What’s that floating in the water?”
“Let me see,” Gwen said.
“Are those white things alive?” Gleason asked.
“It’s ice,” Griffin said from his position at the back. “While your machine has been melting its way down the shaft, its metal sides have scraped off some ice, most likely when the water propelled it back up.”
“He’s right,” Gwen said. “They look like small animals, but they are nothing more than ice chips. Can you magnify the image?”
“Sure,” Sarah said. “The camera has some telescopic capabilities.” She zoomed slowly until several small white flecks came into sharp focus.
“Ice,” Gwen said. “Nothing more, at least not macroscopically. Microscopically . . . who knows?”
“Take it down,” Enkian said. “I didn’t fly all the way down here to look at an ice tunnel.”
Sarah frowned but entered the keystrokes that would allow Hairy to descend.
“How much movement will be available to us?” Enkian asked.
Sarah moved her head from side to side as if thinking. “A fair amount. Once Hairy exits the shaft, a portion of the outer hull will separate, decreasing the probe’s weight and exposing the small propellers that will allow it to move in any direction we direct.”
“How do you maintain buoyancy?”
“Hairy is naturally buoyant in the water. It’s one reason it is as large as it is. There are several empty, sterile compartments that I’m flooding with water. We didn’t want to introduce anything from the surface, so we use Vostok water to decrease buoyancy. Once we emerge, I activate onboard canisters filled with purified air. That air pushes out enough water to bring about zero buoyancy. Then we’re free to tour as long as we like.”
Enkian nodded. “Descent time?”
“Much faster than through the ice, of course, but we still want to move slowly. I estimate we’ll make it through the eleven hundred meters in about thirty minutes. That’s a descent rate of—”
“Nearly forty feet a minute,” Enkian said. “Let’s waste no more time talking. Get on with it.” He turned to Tia. “Let’s use this time. Take some men and unload the plane. Bring everything but personal supplies in here.”
Tia nodded and moved toward the rear air lock, where large crates passed through. She chose several men who followed without discussion.
Chapter 24
“It’s dim,” Enkian said.
“Hold on,” Sarah replied. “We’re back to the underlayer of ice.”
Perry watched with such rapt attention that he forgot for a moment that he was a captive. The plasma monitor displayed the video image returned by Hairy. There had been nothing new to see—just the vertical, white walls of the ice shaft and bits of ice that flickered like stars at night. The minutes ticked by as the probe began a slow, measured descent to the point where it had first broken through. To Perry’s relief, the sudden impact of water and the over-three-thousand-foot rocket ride the probe had taken had left the device undamaged.
“We are seeing what no man has seen,” Dr. Curtis said. “Water and ice laid down millennia ago.”
Enkian snickered. “You know nothing.”
“It is bad enough that you hold me at gunpoint. Must you also ridicule my scientific credibility?”
“Science has gotten so much wrong,” Enkian said. “Especially you archaeologists. You have little more than a thimbleful of knowledge, and from that you make great pronouncements you cannot back up.”
“What do you know of science?” Griffin said. “You’re little more than a thug.”
Tia started for Griffin. Perry took a step to intervene, but Enkian waved his lackey off. “You would be wise to watch your words, Dr. James. My patience has boundaries. To answer your question, I know more than you think.”
“One meter,” Sarah said. All eyes returned to the monitor.
The light from the cryobot reflected off the ice shaft, forming a white ring on the monitor. Dead center was the end of the shaft: a black hole. Light—natural or artificial—had never pierced that darkness.
“All systems are green,” Sarah said. “I assume we all want to see what lies beneath the ice.” She looked at Perry.
“I don’t see any need to hesitate,” Perry said. This was far from what he had expected. A hundred times he had played this moment over in his mind. Sarah would be at the controls, his team surrounding her, making excited comments and observation. Instead, unexpected guests had come to the party. What had been meant for a party of eight was now for well over fifty. Perry resented everything about it. Despite his anger over the situation, he could not draw his eyes from the monitor.
“Tally ho!” Sarah said, taking control of the joystick.
“Wait,” Griffin said.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
“Do you see the ice crystals just beyond the opening?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “It’s a pretty tight fit in the shaft. Hairy has pushed some of the floaters ahead of it. It’s to be expected.”
“Do you see how they’re moving?” Griffin asked, pointing at the monitor. “From our relative position, they’re moving from right to left.”
“So?” Sarah asked.
“So you had better be prepared for a stout current. It’s to be expected.”
“Explain,” Enkian demanded.
“Lake Vostok is not static,” Griffin said. “Geothermal heat close to the lake bed keeps the lake liquid while the ice cap freezes the surface water. That new ice accretes at the surface. Unfrozen but cold water descends, and warm water rises and creates a vertically circular current. If you drop the probe into the water without taking that into account, the current might pull the device away before you’re ready.”
“I thought you were opposed to all of this,” Larimore said.
“I am. We should not have done this. We have committed a crime agai
nst nature and against the scientific community. But if you persist in moving on—well, you might as well do it right.”
“Believe it or not, Dr. James,” Sarah said formally, “I’ve considered that . . . but thanks. I’m afraid I let it slip my mind. I’m a little nervous.”
“You’ve been practicing,” Perry said. “No need to be nervous.” He imagined her keeling over in narcoleptic sleep. He doubted Enkian and Tia would be sympathetic.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t practice under gunpoint.” She laughed lightly. “This is weird. I’m in the coldest place on earth, and my palms are sweating.”
“Enough talk,” Enkian snapped. “Get on with it.”
Perry saw Sarah swallow hard, tighten her grip on the joystick control, and take several deep breaths.
On the monitor, the black hole grew until the shimmering walls of the shaft disappeared altogether.
“The nose is through,” Sarah said. “We’ll be floating free in a minute.”
It was a long minute. Seconds plodded by.
Sarah’s hand was over a switch on top of the controller. She rubbed it with slow, gentle strokes. She had briefed Perry on the device. It looked much like a joystick for a video game except larger. Several buttons were positioned near where Sarah’s thumb rested. The device reminded Perry of controls he had seen in a jet fighter. Her other hand remained free. She drummed her fingers on the table. A few seconds later, she began to bite her lower lip.
“Any second now,” she said.
The cable pulled tight with a snap. Sarah pressed the red button without looking at it. Her eyes were welded to the screen.
“And there’s our current,” Griffin said.
“Come on,” Sarah said. Then, “Props extended, blowing negative.”
Bubbles rose before the video lens. She pushed forward on the stick a half-second later. “Props are responding. We have propulsion. Water ballast is clear. We have zero buoyancy.”
Griffin leaned over her shoulder and studied the gauges. “Fresh water,” he said.
“How can you tell?” Larimore asked.
“The gauges tell me. Buoyancy is a function of water density. An object is more buoyant in saltwater than in fresh.”
