“Look,” she continued quietly, “I know you don’t like to talk off the cuff, but it’s time you practiced. Just say a few words. Keep things light and cheerful and don’t let the press steer the conversation.”
“They’re the ones who ask the questions.”
“Politics 101, David. Do I have to remind you? They ask. That doesn’t mean you have to answer,” Sherry Palmer said through a stiff smile.
The Senator glanced down at his wife and his grin became more genuine. “What would I do without you?”
“I shudder to think,” Sherry shot back. Then she gestured with her expressive brown eyes. “Look, there’s Larry. Go greet your old teammate and make nice with the people who came out to see you.”
Palmer looked up, saw Larry Bell approaching. He moved forward to greet him. Photographers flashed and spectators applauded as the famous Congressman and even more famous Senator clasped hands.
Both ex-basketball players were taller than everyone around them. But Larry Bell was lanky with gangly arms and legs. Broad-shouldered Palmer was built more like a linebacker than the former Big East Conference Defensive Player of the Year and NCAA All-American; and though both men had a full head of hair, Bell’s closely trimmed Afro was peppered with gray.
Almost at once, the pair was surrounded by cameras and proffered microphones.
“Really great to see you, David.” Bell’s smile was warm, but his eyes remained fixed on the press.
“An impressive welcome, Larry,” Palmer replied without a hint of rancor.
Bell faced his colleague eye to eye. “Nothing but the best for the guy who consistently passed me the ball in the greatest game of my career.” Bell slapped Palmer’s arm. “Even when he didn’t have to.“
Palmer shook his head. “I wasn’t there to make you look good, Larry. I was there to win — and since you scored every time you got near the basket, I just thought I’d hand the ball off to you.”
“We made a great team—” Congressman Bell faced the cameras, his voice rising. “And we’ll make a great team again. Only this time we’ll be doing more than winning the NCAA championship.”
There was a smattering of applause, then a
David Palmer grinned. “Well, as Larry said, this time it’s not the NCAA championship. In fact—”
“How about the presidency?” a woman from the
Palmer waited patiently for the battery of questions to end. “I’m in Nevada for only one reason,” he told them. “I’m here to participate in a vital and important program that may someday end the scourge of illegal narcotics, not just in the United States, but throughout all of North, Central and South America…” Palmer paused, gestured to his colleague.
“Of course, Congressman Bell and I both know that solving this massive problem will require international cooperation — which is exactly what the Pan-Latin Anti-Drug Conference exists to promote…”
Though shunted to the sidelines by her own staff and the press of reporters, Sherry Palmer’s gaze never left her husband — even when Lev Cohen touched her shoulder and spoke softly into her ear.
“I just spoke to Bell’s chief of staff, Doug Healy—”
“And?”
“Congressman Bell’s going to make the introduction himself. Later this afternoon. I have all the information…”
Sherry frowned. “Oh, you have all the information? Then you must know why we weren’t notified about this press conference in advance. This was no spontaneous event, Lev.”
Cohen bit his lower lip. “Healy claimed it was an oversight. Someone in his office didn’t make a call—”
Sherry cut him off. “That’s bull and we both know it. Larry Bell is jealous. Back in the day he thought he was a better basketball player than David, and now he thinks he’s a better politician, too.”
Sherry finally shifted her gaze away from her husband, to focus on his chief of staff. “Bell probably believes he should be running for president instead of David, too. But that will never happen because David has the one thing that Larry Bell will never have.”
Lev blinked. “Actually David has three things, or did you forget our campaign slogan?
Sherry smirked.
CTU Agent Tony Almeida entered the hangar through a little used side door, pausing for a moment so his eyes could adjust to the building’s dim interior. Outside, in the desert’s afternoon glare, most members of Dr. Reed’s research team were running diagnostic tests on the massive sensor array. By now, the apparatus was sitting on top of the tower, and the huge crane that had hoisted it here had crawled back to its holding area on clanking steel tracks.
After Tony finished running his own diagnostics— on the shielded generator unit that would power the microwave emitting device — he noticed the entire team wasn’t present. Slipping away, he headed back to Hangar Six to track down the missing person.
Tony circled the building, moving off the pavement into the soft sand. With each step of his steel-toed work boot he kicked up red brown desert dust. No one had used this path for some time. Tony knew because some sign of foot tracks would have been visible, and there was nothing in the sand beyond the swirling tracks of a long-gone rattlesnake.
Near the rear of the structure, Tony climbed three steel steps that led to the side door. He knew the door was unlocked — Tony had made sure of that before the researcher team even rolled out of the hangar. Now he entered a darkened storage area just off the main floor of the hangar, well out of sight of anyone inside.
With the overhead lights powered down, what little illumination came through grimy windows set high in the walls. Most of the high-roofed interior was shrouded in shadows. When his eyes finally got used to the gloom, Tony cautiously stepped around a pile of empty wooden packing crates which formed a makeshift wall.
Suddenly he froze. A hushed voice was speaking in an urgent tone.
“I told you I can’t come now… The project is on a lock down, that’s why… That means nobody can leave, no matter what… I’m stuck here until the demonstration is over.”
Though the echoing interior of the hangar distorted some of the words, Tony recognized the speaker at once. He was the missing scientist, Dr. Steve Sable. Tony trailed the sound, moving quietly from one dark patch to another, carefully approaching the caller.
“Look, I’ll try to get there soon, but I can’t promise anything,” Sable said. “I—”
The man’s excuses were cut short by the person on the other end of the line. Sable tried to stammer a few words in his own defense, but they were apparently ignored. Patiently following the sound, Tony finally located the cyber-engineer behind an idle tow tractor. Sable was there, leaning against a dented workbench covered with wires, chips and motherboards. His back to Tony, Sable was whispering into a slim silver cell phone.
The doctor had good reason to hide his activity in what he thought was a deserted hangar. Using a personal phone anywhere inside the confines of the Groom Lake Experimental facility was a flagrant violation of Air Force security protocols. At the very least, Sable could lose his clearance and face dismissal if he were caught in possession of a cell phone, even if he weren’t using it.
“Threats won’t help either of us,” Sable said with a hint of irritation. “I know how important this is.”
Tony couldn’t read the man’s expression because he faced Sable’s back. Risking discovery, Tony used the cover of packing crates and electronic gear to circle the man. All the while he strained to hear the voice on the other end of the line. Unfortunately, Tony was just too far away.
“Yeah, I know it’s a problem,” Sable said, his tone exasperated. “Money is always a problem, but the delay can’t be helped. I’m not dodging my responsibility. It’s just bad timing, that’s all.“
Suddenly another voice echoed inside the hangar. “Dr. Sable… Are you in here?”
Surprised by the call, Sable quickly slipped the phone into his lab coat and spun around — to come face-to- face with Tony.
“Jesus, Alvarez, you scared the hell out of me!” he cried.
