Event

The elevator doors opened and he stepped into the foyer across from The Ark and made his way inside the darkened club. Few people were there, mostly couples having a beer or mixed drink after duty. A rock-and-roll tune played from the jukebox, a song he didn't recognize because he never had time for anything as mundane as music. He walked over to a bank of three pay phones sitting side by side against the far wall near the restroom. He knew that inept security division that macho navy asshole was currently running monitored the phones at the Group, but he could take care of that easily enough. Reese didn't look around as he stepped up to the center phone. He knew what attracted attention and what didn't. The computer specialist slid his credit card into the slot and pulled down. The card was a special one that Reese himself had designed. It really was a Sprint credit line, but he was most proud of a few extra goodies built into it. As he slid the card in and swiped, the magnetic strip on the back of the card imprinted directly through to the Sprint Telecommunications computer, then on into a leased AT&T telephone line. The microcomputer chip in the card started a chain reaction that would continue to scramble the charge numbers at random. It was totally untraceable, and some guy or gal perhaps in Wisconsin would receive the charge for the call. If anyone checked, the call number would actually come up as two thousand different numbers, therefore no one would ever know who had been called. Not only that, the call would have a telephone prefix three thousand miles away from where the call had actually gone. Smiling, Reese then punched in the numbers and waited for the phone to ring in Las Vegas. While he waited, he gestured for the bartender and made a drinking gesture and mouthed the word Budweiser. The man nodded and went to get his beer. The phone began to ring on the other end of the unmonitored phone.

'Ivory Coast Lounge,' a female voice answered.

'Yes, I would like to reserve a table for tonight please, the name is Reese. Bob Reese.'

There was a moment's hesitation on the other end. 'Yes, Mr. Reese, there should be no problem. At what time should we expect your party?'

Reese looked at his wristwatch and calculated. 'Three hours.'

'That will be fine, Mr. Reese.'

'Thank you. Also, would you tell Simon the bartender to chill a bottle of champagne for me please?' Reese hung up.

He walked to the bar. He took slow pulls off the longneck bottle, made a face, and sat the beer down on the bar. Reese never thought of the things he did as treason. That was an ugly word, and a word that was lost on people like him because the only word that really mattered to Reese was a far simpler one, profit. And he knew this would be a highly profitable trip into town because in his many dealings with the Centaurus Corporation, he had never once given the code words he had just given to the Ivory Coast Lounge. Chill a bottle of champagne meant he was coming in with vital information from the number one item on their wish list, vital and expensive.

The bartender at The Ark, an off-duty marine lance corporal whose real job was in the security department, shook his head as Reese walked out of the club whistling. 'Hey, Dr. Reese, that's three bucks you owe me.'

But Reese just kept walking, off in a world of his own. The bartender looked at his watch and noted the time.

After Reese left The Ark, the bartender decided to make a report on the man who had appeared on the security list this morning. He walked over to the phone at the far end of the bar and looked up at those who were drinking and talking. When he saw none of them were paying him any mind, he picked up the phone and quickly punched in three numbers.

'Security Center, Staff Sergeant Mendenhall,' the black sergeant said tiredly.

'Sarge, this is Wilkins. Is Commander Everett there, or the new major?'

'No, they're hanging with the senator and Dr. Compton at the moment. Something big is happening,' Mendenhall said through a yawn.

'Well, would you note it in the security log that one of the people on our security watch list was in here about a half hour ago and made a call from the pay phones? It was the Comp Center assistant supervisor, that Reese guy. I only noticed because according to the Computer Center duty roster, he was still on shift when he came in here.'

'Okay, that's a clear violation. I'll note it in the log and pass it along to the commander and the new boss, and then I'm sure they'll get Dr. Compton in on this, so Reese can probably expect a write-up or an ass-chewing in the morning.'

SIX

Alice Hamilton met Collins and Everett at the large double doors to the main conference room. She stood with two briefing folders in her hand and made a 'hurry up' gesture at the two men, fanning the folders toward the doors.

'Niles, the senator, and the others are waiting for you to start.' She ushered them toward the conference room.

'What's up, Alice?' Everett asked in a whisper.

'Not now, Carl, get in there. You have some things to discuss before they call the president.' She handed them the briefing folders, one each to Everett and Collins, on their way into the large room.

As they entered, Jack counted seven people seated around the huge oval conference table. The senator was at the opposite end, flipping through some papers in front of him on the polished table. He didn't notice either Collins or Everett as they seated themselves. Alice took her place to the senator's right, in between him and Niles Compton, who was sitting cross-legged reading a report and rubbing his forehead. He finally looked up.

'Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. But as you'll see, it's important that we put this thing in your hands as soon as possible.' Niles paused and looked straight at Jack.

'First off, Major Collins, I'm sorry for having to throw you into the fire on your very first day, but you'll have to limp along the best you can.'

'Yes, sir,' replied Jack, looking at the faces around him.

'I assume the rest of you have seen the major's 201 file and know his capabilities and qualifications?'

There were nods around the room. Collins noticed he and Everett were the only two out of the ten in blue jumpsuits. Everyone else wore either a lab coat or casual clothes.

'Major, we'll save the introductions for later,' Compton said.

Jack just nodded in response.

Niles placed his papers on the floor and took a laser pointer from his breast pocket.

'We had a situation occur this morning over the Pacific Ocean off the west coast of Panama. It seems on the surface we had an incident involving two naval jets. The aircraft, two F-14 Super Tomcats flying off the USS Carl Vinson, were lost at 0640 hours this morning.'

The men and women around the table sat in silence at the news. Collins could see that they were accustomed to reports of field losses. He didn't know if that was a comforting thought or not.

'The navy at the moment is very tight-lipped about the incident, as they always are.'

The senator interrupted, 'Just to let you know, Major Collins, we don't normally investigate every naval incident that comes along.'

'Uh, quite,' Compton said, clearing his throat again. 'We only know something was different because at the time of the incident, we were retasking Boris and Natasha.'

Everett pulled his yellow notepad over and scribbled quickly, then slid it in Jack's direction. It read, KH-11 satellite--we own it; code name is Boris and Natasha.

Collins raised an eyebrow at this new information. For anyone other than the military, the CIA, or NSA, owning a KH-series spy satellite was amazing. He now knew the director and the senator had to have some kind of reach; they not only had access to military personnel, but their equipment also.

'The lucky thing is,' Compton continued, 'we left Boris's ears on and Natasha's eyes open. For the simple- minded among you, we left the damn thing running while we moved it, as we were recalibrating several of her systems. We were moving the satellite to observe an area of Brazilian rain forest that may be hiding some ruins we