“Guess they think I’m good at what I do.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I stepped into that one.”
“I’ll have someone call you back on this number inside of ten minutes. And two favors. Don’t mention my name to Kerwin and, well, don’t ask her any questions and don’t answer any questions. Let her wonder what the hell’s going on.”
“Well, that’ll make two of us.”
“Just the way I like it. And Hurdle—thanks. Nice work.”
Vail told Rusakov they had identified the other spy at Aerospace Engineering and that they had Kerwin back in custody—which she had already surmised. Then she called Rodman, who had returned to the Pentagon an hour ago.
“How are we doing on the Bill Tait dossier?”
“Got some people on it. Have a call in to NSA.”
“Check the GPS on his car, that’d be helpful too.”
“Consider it done,” Rodman said. “Give us a couple of hours. Anything important, I’ll let you know.”
VAIL AND RUSAKOV drove to the Pentagon, using their commute to talk through the pertinent information they had gleaned thus far, including everything they had gotten from, and about, Jason Lansford, Jessie Kerwin, Cynthia Meyers, Mikhail Uglov, Bill Tait, Dirk Patrone, Yaroslav Pervak, and Ronck Mining, then cross-referenced it all with what they knew about Lukas DeSantos.
When they walked into the OPSIG operations center, a group of fifteen men and women sat around an oval conference table, laptops open and keyboards clacking.
Rodman, seated at the head of the room, told Vail and Rusakov to pull up a couple of vacant chairs that were pushed against the far wall.
“I’ve got a team at Dulles doing a forensic examination of Patrone’s car on site,” Rodman said. “These things are like sophisticated computers and—”
“Yeah,” Rusakov said. “We know.”
“And the CSIs are tapping into it and reviewing all the data. They’ve correlated trip information with Kerwin’s car’s GPS. Looks like there was periodic contact between Patrone and Kerwin.”
“Patrone and Kerwin,” Vail said as she took her seat. “That’s a relationship that smells like rotten fish.”
“There’s more,” Dykstra said, taking a seat next to Vail. “Page 27 of the PDF I sent over. Don’t bother pulling it up. I’ve got it here.” He clicked and his screen changed to an Excel spreadsheet. He pointed to a number of dates. “Uglov had meetings with Tait and Patrone.”
“So there’s a connection between our players,” Vail said.
Rusakov continued examining the document. “Now we just have to see what this has to do with Lukas. I mean, we know he was taken to leverage Hector. But what was Tait’s motivation? Money?”
Vail sat back. “Or is someone else behind it and there’s a vendetta? Is this about retribution? If Tait is mixed up in Lukas’s abduction, I’m not sure that makes any sense—given what we know so far. Lukas was a mentor to Tait, seeded his company when he didn’t have to.”
“Unless Lukas had to make that investment,” Rusakov said. “A payoff for something that happened years ago and it was hush money to keep Tait quiet. Blackmail. A little more palatable if Lukas gets some shares in Tait Protection.”
“Possible, but there’s almost nothing to suggest anything like that.”
Rodman motioned a couple of people over. “We’ll look into it just in case it turns out to be true.”
“Could be as simple as greed or a vendetta—Tait’s paid to do a job and the money is too good to pass up. Maybe Tait gets a cut of Ronck’s profit if China pays up.”
Vail stood up and began pacing. “We need to focus on what we already know—facts. Ronck rakes in billions if China gets caesarium. Kerwin is hired to find a way to place someone inside NASA or a defense contractor to make this happen. She puts Jason Lansford into Aerospace Engineering. Lansford plants malware in the US rocket software and a colleague adds a rogue chip to the onboard computer systems.”
Rusakov brushed away a speck of dust from her keyboard. “But Lansford pays unexpected dividends because he’s able to hack top secret DOD servers and they see that the military is close to launching both a ring of preventive laser satellites and a Moon shot.”
“And they hit the jackpot when Lansford discovers that one of the astronauts chosen to replace the two killed in the NBL bombing is DeSantos—whose father is pretty much an American hero.”
“There’s no time to take out Hector and Uzi,” Dykstra said, “so they need to find some other way of protecting their mission.”
“Right.” Vail stopped pacing. “Leverage. They grab up Lukas—and try to contact Hector directly—to force him to sabotage the mission and clear the way for the Russians to leave the Moon with caesarium.”
“But an important part of this,” Rodman said, “is that the largest shareholder in Ronck is Yaroslav Pervak, the Russian president.”
“Now we need some speculation to connect the remaining dots.” Rusakov pushed away from the laptop. “Ronck’s done business with Tait, so the company’s familiar with him. Through Uglov, Pervak lets it be known that Lukas DeSantos needs to be kidnapped and taken somewhere. And Tait has a guy who’s willing to do a job for them off the books.”
“Dirk Patrone.”
“Yeah. Mercenary extraordinaire.” Vail glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. “You think Patrone also took out the NBL employee? The one whose stolen ID was used by Alec Hayder to get into the lab to plant the bomb?”
“I think that’s a pretty damn good guess,” Ruskaov said.
Dykstra nodded slowly, putting it all together. “So Pervak arranges for Ronck to pay a great deal of money to Tait, which he and Patrone split—or whatever. Patrone has a crew, part of Tait Protection or freelance, that grabs up Lukas.”
“Bastard,” Rodman said. “Tait served under Lukas. He was his CO. This is—” he curled a fist—“wrong. This is personal. We’re gonna get this bastard, wherever he is.”
Vail held up a hand. “We don’t for sure what went down with Tait. We can’t jump to conclusions without facts. Important thing is, if we find Lukas, we might find Patrone. That’s now our focus.”
66
Taurus-Littrow Valley
DeSantos sat on a boulder watching the Russians. One cosmonaut always remained on station with the Resurs while the other three left on the rover. Thus far, there had been no alarms emanating from the remote Uzi had rigged. He hoped it was working.
Uzi and Carson had been updating him on how things were progressing. The fuel was nearly finished loading into the empty Apollo 17 tank and the unproven valve had performed well.
If Carson was right, they were only going to get 490 pounds. Even added to what they still had in their ascent stage tank, Issachar warned them it was going to be close: it was a delicate balance between amount of required fuel and the total weight of the craft.
They fastened the vessel to the LRV and transported it to the Raptor—which took a lot longer than they had hoped because of its weight. The increased strain on the batteries took its toll and Uzi had to make sure the solar panels were pointed directly at the sun at all times.
They arrived at the Raptor on the morning of their third day, dog tired, famished, and mentally spent. Even Stroud, after a four-hour nap in the cabin, was back in the Spider scouting areas for caesarium. Their deadline was approaching, but DeSantos said that if the time came where their supplies had run out—and that threshold would be exceeded in six hours—they would have to leave without running their tests on the caesarium; that portion of the mission would go unfulfilled.
Eisenbach agreed, though he was not pleased they were discussing this. He had expected them to locate caesarium and have their tests completed by the end of the first day or, at the latest, sometime during the second. But Stroud pointed out that his efforts were hampered considerably by th
e malfunction of the automated mining apparatus.
Uzi and Carson set about loading the half-filled ascent stage tank with the Chang’e fuel. They held their breath as they hooked up the coupling—but since NASA and the DOD had precise design specs for the Raptor’s valve, they had much greater confidence that the joint here would be clean and successful.
It held and the fuel started moving at the expected flow rate.
“Santa, I’m headed back to you,” Uzi said. “Be there in forty-five minutes if I push it.”
“Push it, Boychick. After several hours of sitting on a boulder, my butt hurts more than the time I spent half a day on a camel.”
UZI ARRIVED AS promised. DeSantos, lacking sleep and food, closed his eyes a short time after settling himself into the LRV seat and was off in dreamland.
Three hours later, DeSantos stirred and woke up in time to see the Russian rover approaching, a small cloud of Moon dust surrounding each tire. He blinked a few times and worked his dry tongue, trying to shake off the cobwebs.
“They’re coming from a completely different direction,” Uzi said.
DeSantos used the handgrip on the side of the LRV’s metal frame to reposition himself into a more erect posture. “Maybe they’re having a tough time locating caesarium, so they tried another area.”
“They seem to be heading right for us.”
“Maybe Oleg wants to chat again.”
Uzi twisted his torso toward DeSantos. “What’s there left to talk about?”
My father.
The rover stopped twenty feet from the LRV and one of the cosmonauts climbed out. As he approached, he lifted his visor. DeSantos did likewise.
It was Oleg. He stopped a few paces away and stared at DeSantos, who sat there and looked right back at him. DeSantos knew he was giving him one last opportunity to accept their demands, and in turn they would release his father.
DeSantos gave no indication of an agreement. An awkward moment later, Oleg turned and walked away, got back into his rover and drove off toward the Resurs.
“What was that about?” Uzi asked.
DeSantos did not answer. He did not like keeping secrets from his friend, but he was reluctant to read Uzi into the situation with his father. Did Knox know what was going on? McNamara? If they knew, there was no way they would tell him. They would be afraid it would jeopardize the mission. In fact, they would specifically not tell Uzi, because it would be nearly impossible for him to keep a secret of that magnitude from DeSantos.
As DeSantos pondered this, the rover parked by the front strut of the Resurs. And the remote Uzi had programmed began vibrating and blinking.
“They’ve got it,” Uzi said. “They found caesarium. Shit.”
“Shit is right. Let’s get back.”
Uzi started the rover, swung a U-turn and headed toward the Raptor. “Assuming they know what they’ve got, they’ll start prepping for liftoff. And since we’ve gotta be off the surface before they are—if we’re gonna blow their ship—we don’t have much time.”
DeSantos grabbed the metal bar as the rover slid left and right on the loose dirt—which created a cloud in their field of vision because of the missing fender. “They’ve never seen caesarium before. They may not realize what they’ve got.”
“If I’m them,” Uzi said, “I’d run tests to be sure. If they’re wrong and they leave, they can’t turn around and come back.”
DeSantos tapped a button on his helmet and changed the radio frequency. “Digger, Stroud, what’s your status?”
“The fuel is loading,” Carson said, “and everything’s looking good. I’ve dumped some equipment and taken a weight reading. We’re still over.”
“How much longer till it’s done loading?”
“Issachar says it shouldn’t be long. Still not sure this fuel mixture will work. He had the engineers run simulations. One failed and one succeeded.”
“How many minutes is ‘shouldn’t be long’?” Uzi asked.
“Suddenly got some place to be? You sound a little … I dunno, desperate.”
“They’ve got caesarium. The Russians. Readings peaked as soon as they got back to their ship. Don’t know what their next move is, but once they realize they’ve got what they came for, no reason to hang around. They’ll probably high-tail it into orbit before we can stop them. They have no idea what we have planned.”
“And,” DeSantos said, “we’ve gotta lift off before they do.”
“Not to mention that the range on our trigger remote isn’t that great,” Uzi said.
“Roger that. I’ll keep you posted. You headed back?”
“ETA twenty-five minutes,” Uzi said as he skidded a bit around a large boulder. Be ready to lift off ASAP. Cowboy, stop what you’re doing and return to base—whether or not you’ve found caesarium. Nothing we can do about it. Just ran out of time.”
They waited a moment but only the white noise of radio silence came over their headsets.
“Stroud,” DeSantos said firmly. “Report.”
Nothing.
The rover hit a rut and bottomed out on the hard-packed surface.
“What do you think, Santa?”
“I’m thinking this isn’t good. Could be radio failure, but … something tells me we’ve got a problem.”
Uzi swerved left to avoid a small crater and DeSantos nearly flew out of the rover—as it was, the journey was full of angles, ditches, and rocks. A paved road it was not. “Hang on, buddy.”
DeSantos tapped his helmet to switch the radio channel. “Digger, any idea where Cowboy is?”
“Last location on his list. Around the Massif, Bear Mountain. Can’t see him from here.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“He’s got the rover. Could be anywhere.”
“Jesus,” DeSantos said under his breath—but it still registered over the radio.
“You want me to go look? I do that, I have to leave the fuel tr—”
“No.” DeSantos tapped his helmet again. “CAPCOM, this is Raptor. The Russians have caesarium and we need to lift off before they do. Cowboy’s not responding. Last seen driving the Spider. Any way for you to locate the rover?”
“Copy that. Give us a moment.”
Seconds felt like minutes when Maddox’s voice came through clear and confident. Sending coordinates to your heads-up displays.”
“Thanks much, CAPCOM.” DeSantos activated the screen on the inside of his visor. “I see it. We’re not far. Headed there now.” He cut the line and said to Carson, “Finish transferring that fuel. We’ll hit those coordinates and see what the problem is with Cowboy. Hopefully he’s near the rover.”
UZI GESTURED WITH HIS FREE HAND. “Gonna come up alongside the base of the South Massif. Location Bob gave us is consistent with what Digger thought. Bear Mountain, southeast.”
Uzi swung by the back side of the foothills and stopped behind the Spider. They got out and skipped/shuffled forward.
“There,” DeSantos said. “On the left.”
As they approached, Uzi said, “Digger, we’ve got a visual. Located Cowboy. He’s down. Repeat, he’s down.”
“Down?”
“Not moving,” DeSantos said. “On our way.”
“You need help?”
“Stay where you are. SITREP on the fuel transfer?”
“Like watching a pot boil.”
“Go through our prelaunch checklist, get as much done as you can.”
“Already on it,” Carson said. “I should be ready to go as soon as we’re gassed up.”
They neared Stroud, who was lying on his left side facing a rocky outcropping.
“Fuck. His suit’s depressurized.”
They came up alongside him and DeSantos pulled Stroud onto his back—as best he could because of the thick backpack—and s
aw a shattered faceplate.
“Oh, man.” Uzi turned away.
“You serious?” Carson’s voice. “You guys aren’t jerking me aro—”
“Digger,” Uzi said, “I’m sorry. He’s gone.”
“And a crappy way to die, at that,” DeSantos said.
“How?” Carson asked. “How’d it happen?”
Uzi glanced up and down Stroud’s body. He raised his left hand toward DeSantos. “Don’t touch anything. Don’t move.”
“Why?”
“Just listen to me. We’ve gotta treat this as a crime scene.”
“Crime scene? Boychick, forget that FBI bullshit. We’ve gotta get back.”
“I hear you. Go help Digger prep for launch. I need a few minutes. Something’s not right.”
“Until we know what happened to him, I’d rather not leave you alone while your back is turned. You should have someone on your six,” he said, referring to his rear.
“Digger’s by himself, he’s in the Raptor. Better you check out the lander in case they sabotaged it. Or none of us is gonna get off this rock. If the Russians are responsible for Cowboy, they may not be done.”
“I checked for an IED after our food went missing,” Carson said. “We’re clean.”
“You sure?”
“I’m—yeah, I’m sure.”
“Hurry up, Boychick. You’ve got two minutes.” DeSantos stood erect, rested his right hand on the useless sidearm.
The suit was clinging tightly to Stroud’s body since there was no longer any internal air pressure present. A rectangle of dirt covered Stroud’s right thigh pocket. Uzi yanked open the Velcro closure on the pant leg but it was empty. “There was something small, long, and flat in here. Any idea?”
DeSantos stepped closer and took a look. “A box of some kind. The black Moon dirt created an outline in the suit material.”
“Hey Digger, there was a flat metal box in Stroud’s pocket. Probably eight or nine inches long, three wide, couple inches thick. Give or take.”
“No idea.”
Uzi checked the bulge in Stroud’s other pocket and ripped it open. “Geiger counter.”
Dark Side of the Moon Page 35
