As the now thirty-two members of the world’s scientific community were separated and hustled toward the waiting elevators in the center of the rig, Djemma Garand smiled. He could see the shock and fear in their faces. He knew that most, if not all, would comply.
He turned to Andras and another African man in uniform, a general in his armed forces.
“Get back to the
Andras nodded and moved off. The general stepped up.
“It is time, old friend,” Djemma said. “You may begin to take back what is rightfully ours.”
The general saluted and then turned and was gone.
39
KURT AUSTIN STEPPED OFF the elevator on the eleventh floor of the NUMA headquarters building on the shore of the Potomac River in Washington, D.C. He moved slowly, his body battered, his ego suffering from the badly missed call that had taken them out to the tower of rock in the dark of night.
He was walking with noticeable pain. His face and arms were peeling from saltwater sores and eight hours waiting for rescue in the burning sun. His ribs were sore from the pipe attack, and his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, and his lips were creased with healing scabs where Andras and his thugs had pounded him and split the skin.
Adding insult to injury were the hours sitting in the
The least someone could have done was spring for business class.
Now fighting jet lag, exhaustion, and his wounded pride, Kurt pressed forward toward another conference room, where he and Joe would discuss with Dirk Pitt and members of the U.S. Navy and the National Security Agency everything they’d already explained a half a dozen times. All the while, whatever trail Andras had left grew colder and faded away.
He neared the end of the hall and despite the pain and fatigue spotted a reason to smile and keep going. At the door to the conference room he saw Gamay Trout. It troubled him that she was alone.
They hugged, and he could feel that much of her usual self-assurance was missing.
“You don’t look so good, Kurt. How do you feel?”
“Never better,” he said.
She smiled.
“Paul?” he asked.
“He’s still unconscious,” she managed.
“I’m sorry.”
“His EEG is improving, and a CAT scan showed no damage, but I’m scared, Kurt.”
“He’ll come back,” Kurt said hopefully. “After all, look what he’s got waiting for him.”
She tried to smile, and then grabbed the door handle and pushed through.
Kurt followed her in and sat protectively beside her. Joe arrived a moment later and sat on her other side. Dirk Pitt, Hiram Yaeger, and some brass from the Navy held positions down the table from them. At the head of the table, a suit from the NSA took center stage.
Dirk Pitt stood and explained. “I know you’ve all been through a lot, but we’re here because the situation has gone from bad to worse.”
He waved toward the man in the suit. “This is Cameron Brinks from the NSA. He and Rear Admiral Farnsworth are spearheading the response to what we believe is a very present threat to international peace.”
Cameron Brinks stood up. “We have to thank you men for discovering and bringing this threat to our attention. Like you, we believe a well-financed or even nationally backed group has developed a directed-energy weapon of incredible power. If the extrapolations from the data are correct, this weapon could undermine the current world socio-military balance.”
Kurt wasn’t sure what exactly the term
Brinks continued. “After consulting with Mr. Yaeger, and also running our own studies, we’ve concluded that this weapon uses a system of particle acceleration similar to one suggested years back for the Strategic Defense Initiative’s anti-missile shield.”
Kurt considered what Brinks was saying, and he allowed some of his aggravation to dissipate. At least these men seemed to grasp the danger.
“To make matters worse,” Brinks said, “the kidnapped scientists are precisely the kind of people one would need to improve on whatever these terrorists are already in possession of.”
“Do we have any idea who they are?” Kurt asked.
Brinks nodded. “In addition to the individual you identified, we’ve two pieces of credible evidence suggesting their base of operations is in Africa.”
“Africa?” Gamay said.
“Yes, Mrs. Trout,” Brinks replied. “Early this morning a body was recovered two miles south of the spot where Kurt and Joe were rescued.”
Brinks nodded to an aide, who brought photos out that were passed to Kurt and Joe.
“Recognize him?” Brinks asked.
The water had bloated the man’s face, but it wasn’t enough to hide his identity.
“Key master,” Joe whispered.
Kurt nodded. “This guy was with Andras,” he said. “What happened to him?”
“Twenty-two, Old West style,” Brinks said. “Right between the eyes. Any idea why?”
“He was alive when we went down,” Kurt said. He put the photo away. “Who is he?”
“He’s been identified as a citizen of Sierra Leone,” Brinks said. “A former major in their armed forces, perhaps even a bodyguard for the president, Djemma Garand.”
“Sierra Leone,” Kurt said. This was the second time that nation’s name had popped up.
Brinks nodded. “As odd as it sounds, the links are starting to point to a connection with that country. We know the superconducting ore was transferred in Freetown, but until now we thought it was the work of a group of mercenaries manning the docks. Your friend Andras may have been one of them.”
Kurt didn’t like hearing Andras referred to as his friend, however facetiously. Beyond that, something sounded odd about this assessment. “Sierra Leone is one of the poorest countries in the world. They can barely feed and clothe their people. You’re telling me they have the wherewithal to create a particle accelerator using advanced superconductors?”
“We have this man’s body to prove a link,” Brinks said, not looking particularly thrilled to have questions coming at him. “We have other intelligence suggesting there may be a connection, including some odd military mobilizations of late.”
“Okay, so what are we doing about it?” Kurt asked, unable to take any more preamble.
Brinks retrained his gaze on Kurt. “To begin with, greater surveillance of the nation is beginning. Until now we haven’t much reason to keep a close eye upon them. But we’re starting to.”
“What else?”
“Believe it or not,” Brinks said, “we still think your initial guess is correct. These people undoubtedly have to be operating from a submarine. Portuguese divers have been all over that rock tower and they’ve found hidden tunnels designed to funnel the current through turbines, banks of batteries, and powerful electromagnetic coils. All designed to create the appearance of a magnetic anomaly. The construction would have required extensive use of
