Dante looked at Ashley and then to Paul.
Paul knew what that look meant. Could they trust the First Lady? Could anyone? But the time for doubt had passed. If she had wanted to disrupt their plans, she already would have, and John was doing a far better job at sabotaging himself than she or the GMRC had ever done. ‘Do it,’ he said.
Ashley walked to the doors with her security team in tow. She looked back at Paul. ‘What do you want me to tell him?’
‘Tell him – tell him if he doesn’t get back here right now, the GMRC has won.’
Ashley nodded and left.
Dante moved closer to Paul, so no one else would hear. ‘Can we trust her?’ he whispered.
Paul’s look was grim. ‘We don’t have much of a choice.’
Dante gave a nod of acceptance and then said in a louder voice, ‘Shall we sort out this security problem?’
Paul nodded. ‘And quickly, the EU president is almost here.’
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One
John Harrison Henry, the President of the United States and Commander in Chief of the armed forces, paced around the interior of the Naval Observatory’s circular library. He’d been there for over three hours and knew, with the conference looming, he could ill afford to wait much longer. But wait he would, until he was certain there was no threat from another asteroid. Although, as time ticked on, his fears had waned and he’d begun to question himself. Am I being paranoid? he thought. Are the reports playing to my fears, fears the terrorists who abducted me knew I’d be susceptible to?
Whatever the case, John wanted to see it through, while Paul, his Chief of Staff, had hounded him relentlessly to get him to return. So much so, John had switched off his devices and ordered his Secret Service agents to do the same.
Of course, when John had left the White House in Marine One, his ever-present security detail had gone along with him. The president couldn’t be allowed to wander around without proper protection, especially considering the state of emergency they now faced. Nor could he be separated from the nuclear launch codes, which followed him round wherever he went. He glanced at the military officer who continued to dog his steps, the man’s hands clasping the black briefcase, commonly known as the ‘nuclear football’. John had never liked it. It was a reminder of a responsibility he could do without.
He knew the Vice President was similarly burdened with his own black box of death, a redundancy in case the president was ever incapacitated, or worse, killed. His thoughts returned to the situation in the Atlantic and he prayed he could convince the EU president and Chinese premier to back him against the GMRC. If he couldn’t, it might well be war.
‘Mr President,’ said a Secret Service agent. ‘The First Lady has just arrived.’
John glared at him. ‘I thought I told you to switch off your coms?’
The agent avoided his gaze and John sighed. His wife was all he needed. Paul must be desperate, he thought, feeling guilty for stressing out his friend, but also angry that he’d resorted to such a tactic. Especially considering Ashley’s dubious past, specifically her still far from transparent connections to his number one enemy, the GMRC.
He looked at the clock once more and wondered why it was taking so long to find someone who could operate the observatory’s telescope. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to use? The administrator he’d spoken to had said the resident astronomer, who was usually in charge of day-to-day duties, was on temporary secondment elsewhere. Where that was, the administrator hadn’t elaborated, but John suspected it was because she didn’t know.
The door to the library opened and John’s expression changed as Ashley swept inside, her red dress a flurry of colour in an otherwise bland room.
‘John,’ she said in greeting. ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’
She went to kiss him on the cheek and he moved out of reach.
‘Go back to the White House,’ he said. ‘I can’t think with you around.’
‘Paul told me to tell you if you don’t go back right away, the GMRC has won. Is that what you want? To go down in history as the failure you always knew you were?’
He glared at his wife. She always knew how to hurt him the most. She’d almost made it into an art form. And yet he still came back for more. Why is that? he wondered.
She brushed back her lustrous hair and his eyes were drawn to her perfect curves.
‘Mr President?’
He turned to see a young woman had entered the room, escorted by one of his agents; it was the administrator he’d spoken to earlier.
‘Mr President, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the observatory.’
‘Finally!’ he said.
The young administrator looked nervously around at the large armed contingent of Secret Service agents and then to the First Lady. She then led them into a hallway and along a corridor towards the far end of the building, with everyone trailing behind her like a royal procession.
When they reached the observatory room, she paused outside. ‘Some of you will have to wait here,’ she said to John. ‘We’ve restricted numbers due to the accident.’
‘Accident?’ John said.
The woman nodded. ‘A terrible thing, it happened last year. Professor Salazar, he was working late and we think he must have been trying to fix the roof’s mechanism, which had jammed. I won’t go into details, but strict procedures were introduced to make sure it couldn’t happen again.’
John glanced at Ashley. ‘I’ll come in alone.’
‘Mr President,’ said his lead agent, ‘I can’t allow that.’
‘Can’t allow it?’ John said. ‘Haven’t you already swept it?’
The agent swallowed nervously. ‘Yes, sir.’
John considered the agent for a moment, and then waved forward the man with the nuclear briefcase.
‘Soldier, stand guard on this door, and if anyone tries to enter, you shoot them. Understand?’
‘Sir, yes, sir!’ The officer drew his sidearm, cocked it and took up his position.
John gave the Secret Service agent a pointed look and then opened the door, allowing the administrator inside.
As he entered behind her, Ashley went to follow him in, but the soldier barred her way.
‘You, too, Ashley,’ John said, as he turned to shut the door.
‘What?’ she said, looking furious. ‘You can’t possib—’
John closed the door in her face and he heard her bang it with a shriek of frustration. He gave a grim smile and thought, if they want to bring their president to task, they’ll have to do better than that.
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two
John gazed around the observatory’s large domed interior, while the administrator conversed with a young man, who must have been the telescope operator they’d all been waiting for.
A few moments later they ceased their discussion and the operator approached and held out his hand. ‘Mr President,’ he said, shaking John’s hand. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, sir.’
John nodded and looked up at the massive telescope, the long cylindrical tube perched atop a large central pillar.
The operator shot his female colleague a concerned look and then said, ‘I hear you want to take a look at the sky. May I ask what you’re looking for?’
John removed his computer and showed the man the footage of the asteroid he’d seen on the news stream.
‘An asteroid?’
John nodded.
‘I can assure you, Mr President, if there was another asteroid heading our way, someone would have seen it.’
‘You’ve been doing regular surveys?’ John said.
‘We always do.’
‘And yet you’re not always here, are you?’
The astronomer glanced at his administrator again and then looked back at John. ‘Not all the time, no.’
‘How long since you last looked at the area where this asteroid is supposed to be?’
‘A week, a month, maybe.’
&nb
sp; ‘A month?’ John said.
The astronomer shrugged. ‘Maybe, but we’re not tasked with tracking near-Earth objects. There are many larger, much more sophisticated observatories all over the country – all over the world – that do that.’
‘Just humour me,’ John said, growing impatient.
The man nodded and moved to the controls.
The large bay doors on the exterior dome inched open and John said, ‘Will this take long?’
‘A few minutes.’
John ground his teeth as the telescope slowly moved into position, but rather than pull out his hair in frustration, he decided to wander around the room to take his mind off the conference he knew he should be preparing for. He came to a large framed picture hung on the wall and looked closer at the image. ‘Is that John Quincy Adams?’
‘Yes, Mr President,’ the administrator said, coming to stand by his side. ‘President Adams,’ she said, ‘signed the bill for the observatory to be built. The country’s first national observatory. He was an avid stargazer and often came here to use it.’
John peered closer at the photograph. ‘Where was it taken? He looks quite old. And are those mountaineers in the background?’ He read the inscription at the bottom. ‘Sanctuary, 1844.’
‘Yes. No one’s quite sure where it was taken. As he came here a lot, we assume he referred to it as his sanctuary. The men with him might have been those who helped build the observatory, although they do look more like climbers than construction workers. The photograph itself is one of the earliest ever taken of a president. Although, if you look closely, you can see in the background something that looks like a tower, which is strange, as there are none nearby.’
John looked closer still at the faded daguerreotype image. The tower looked odd, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
‘Right, Mr President,’ the operator said. ‘I think that’s as close as I can get.’
John gave the photo one last look before striding over to the telescope. ‘Can you see it?’
‘There’s plenty of stars,’ the young man said, ‘but no asteroid, I’m afraid.’
John took his turn to peer through the lens, but as he’d never used one before he had no idea what to look for. ‘Couldn’t that be it?’ John said. ‘There’s a bright object, near the top left, next to two small stars.’
The man swapped places with him and then shook his head. ‘No, it’s just another star.’
‘Are you sure? It looks elongated.’
‘Yes, it’s a common problem with these older telescopes. It’s called optical lensing. It’s definitely a star, I guarantee it.’
John made a face and looked at the control system the young astronomer had used to input the celestial coordinates. They were just a mass of meaningless numbers to him. Inclination, declination, right ascension and a host of other oddities he’d need a text book to decipher. He would have to take the man’s word for it, either that, or find someone else to help him. And that would take time – time he simply didn’t have.
Perhaps noticing his president’s anxiety, the man said, ‘I have a couple of colleagues I can contact at Kitt Peak National Observatory, if you’d like a second opinion?’
‘If you can get through to them,’ John said. ‘I tried a number of times, along with a host of other observatories, but no one answered. Not one.’
The man nodded. ‘Yes, we normally operate during the night, so I’m not surprised.’ He looked up through the dome’s opening at the darkening sky. ‘They should be there now, though.’ He withdrew his computer and made the call.
‘Can you put it on speakerphone,’ John said.
The man nodded.
The phone rang and then someone answered, ‘Kitt Peak.’
‘Natalie, is that you?’
‘Who wants to know?’
‘It’s Matt, look at your screen, can’t you tell?’
The woman grunted something and the telescope operator, now revealed as Matt, spoke again. ‘Anyway, look, I need you to do me a favour. If I give you a set of coordinates can you task it to one of your telescopes?’
‘I don’t know. We’re pretty booked up.’
The astronomer looked at John. ‘It’s really urgent, I need it done now.’
There was a moment’s pause before Natalie said, ‘Sure, you’ll owe me, though.’
‘Of course.’ He gave John the thumbs up and then relayed the coordinates.
A few minutes passed, then Matt said, ‘And you’re quite sure? There’s nothing there.’
‘Nope,’ Natalie said. ‘Clear skies.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing from the other stations, no NEOs we should be worried about?’
‘Nope, nada. We’re tracking all known near-Earth objects. If there was anything, we’d know about it. We’re tied in to observatories all around the world, you know that.’
John relaxed.
‘What’s this all about, anyway?’ Natalie said.
‘It’s just something I’ve been asked to do.’ Matt glanced at John and gave him a nervous smile, and then thanked Natalie for her help and hung up the call.
‘He must have been mistaken,’ John said, recalling the man who’d been on TV: a man who’d now been exposed as a nut job. It seemed the reporter interviewing him was right after all, but John had been so sure. His gut had told him the man was telling the truth and knew what he was talking about. He felt like a fool, risking everything on a hunch that hadn’t paid off. The terrorists had played him and he’d done everything they’d wanted. He looked around the observatory and suddenly felt vulnerable. He thanked the telescope operator and the administrator, and re-emerged into the corridor.
‘Well?’ Ashley said. ‘Is the world coming to an end?’
‘We’re going to the Capitol,’ John said, trying to maintain his dignity. ‘I have a conference to host.’
‘About time,’ she said.
John led the way back out to Marine One and not long after, the green and white helicopter was airborne and flying back the way it had come.
John stared out of the window at the nightscape of Washington D.C. as it twinkled in the dying light. He’d wasted precious time and endangered the country for nothing. It was a hard pill to swallow, but he knew he’d done the wrong thing, even if for the right reasons. He just hoped it hadn’t jeopardised his chances of defeating the GMRC, for if it had, he’d never forgive himself.
♦
Back at the Naval Observatory, the astronomer known as Matt shut down the telescope’s controls and watched as the dome closed. The administrator thanked him for coming in at such short notice and then left him alone in the large, silent room. Not long after she’d gone, he received a video call. It was Natalie.
‘Has he gone?’
Matt nodded.
‘Did he suspect anything?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I stuck to the script. You were listening. He has no idea.’
‘And you’re sure he believed you when you mentioned optical lensing?’
‘Positive. It’s as we thought, he doesn’t even have a grasp of basic theory. I could have said anything and he would have believed me.’
‘Excellent. I’ll inform your handler, he’ll be pleased.’
The call ended and Matt let out a sigh of relief. He’d lived up to his side of the bargain, now all he had to do was wait to be paid. He’d always known working for the GMRC would have its benefits.
A noise behind made him turn. The doors to the observatory had opened and a Secret Service agent stood framed in the doorway.
‘The president has left,’ Matt said. ‘Didn’t you know?’
The agent raised his gun and fired.
Matt collapsed to the floor, dead, a stream of blood flowing from the gunshot wound in his chest.
‘Of course, I know,’ said the agent. He pressed a button on his radio and moved back into the hallway. ‘The president’s on his way.’
‘Is it done?’ said a voice.
&
nbsp; The S.S. agent looked down at a second body, that of a young woman, the deceased administrator lying in a pool of her own blood. ‘Yes.’
‘Does the president know?’
‘He thinks it’s a false alarm.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. Tell Dante, everything’s proceeding as planned.’
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Three
The White House Chief of Staff, Paul Brown, opened the door to the surveillance room inside Capitol Hill’s security centre, and the president’s Head of Security, Secret Service Special Agent Dante, followed him inside.
‘Where are they?’ Paul said.
The police officer, who sat monitoring the screens, pointed at one of them. ‘The Germans are in interrogation room one.’ He gestured to the next screen along. ‘The other two are across the hall in room four.’
Paul studied the images. ‘Have any of them said anything?’
‘No. They know they’re being watched, but from what I can see the big German is no friend of the other two.’
‘How can you tell?’ Paul said.
‘Body language,’ Dante told him.
The officer nodded in agreement. ‘They sat as far away from him as they could, and the way they’re seated … arms crossed, legs pointing away from him. Not to mention the looks they keep giving him.’
‘We can use that,’ Dante said, and then turned as the door to the surveillance room opened and two men from the FBI entered, one of them being the head of the Bureau, Director Flynn.
‘Gentleman,’ Flynn said. ‘How do you want to proceed?’
‘We’ll start with the Germans,’ Paul said. ‘And I want this done quickly, with minimum fuss. If they are GMRC, I want them as far away from here as possible.’
‘I’ve called in a high security transport,’ Flynn said. ‘As soon as they’re processed, we can send them to the new Super Max in Richmond.’
Paul shook his head. ‘I want them in a military installation.’
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 99
