of death from hypothermia as if he’d walked out of the Amundsen-Scott research station, down at the South Pole, straight into an Antarctic blizzard, but his only protection from the intense cold came from two layers of full-length thermal undergarments beneath his nylon flying suit.
Altitude also thins the atmosphere. This can lead to hypoxia, or oxygen starvation, which in turn causes blackouts. An unconscious man in a wing-suit will lose control and tumble helplessly down to earth like a stricken aircraft. Carver’s chute was set to deploy automatically at around two thousand feet, but if his body position was unstable his lines and canopy could wrap themselves around him like a spider’s web round a fly. And then they’d just be shrink-wrap for his shattered corpse.
To combat hypoxia, Carver was using a personal oxygen supply. But the extreme cold can play havoc by icing up an oxygen mask, leaving the user blind and disoriented. That, too, can lead to a fatal loss of control.
Buffeted and deafened by the air being forced around his body as he plummeted, and as numb with cold as a deep-frozen T-bone, Carver wondered how much difference blindness would make. If he looked straight down, there was nothing below him but the infinite blackness of the Atlantic Ocean. But then out of the corner of his right eye, he saw a sparkle of light, far beneath him, that expanded and brightened with every second that passed, and now he was able to get his bearings.
He was travelling from east to west, towards the eastern seaboard of America, still so high that he could detect the curvature of the earth. To his left, a dusting of lights from roads and buildings and a faint line of pale grey marked the sandy shoreline of the Outer Banks, the ribbon of barrier islands that curved around the North Carolina coast, enclosing a great stretch of water between them and the mainland. To his right, looking north across the Virginia state line, the lights he had seen glittering against the black earth were the cities of Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Hampton and Newport News.
Few places on the planet held more concentrated military firepower than that coastal conurbation, packed against the shoreline where Chesapeake Bay opened out on to the Atlantic Ocean. The US Coast Guard, Navy and Air Force owned thousands of acres, given over to bases that housed hundreds of combat aircraft and massive fleets of warships: aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers and nuclear submarines. But Carver was all alone in the sky, aiming for the man who was his target, the man all those armed forces were paid to protect.
6
‘See that picture over there?’ President Lincoln Roberts pointed at an antique photograph mounted in a stained-wood frame, one of a collection of personal mementos on the wall of the private study at Lusterleaf, his family home near Knotts Island, North Carolina. The monochrome print showed about twenty African-Americans gathered in front of a building made of crudely nailed wooden planks. A couple of them were grown men, the rest women and children, ranging in age from grandmothers to babes in arms.
‘Sure,’ said Harrison James. ‘You’ve had it there as long as I’ve known you.’
‘That’s right, but I never told you about it, I don’t think.’ The President grinned unexpectedly, his face lighting up with almost boyish mischief: fifty-six going on fifteen. ‘See, all those people there are slaves. The photograph was taken on the Gloucester Hall Plantation in Bertie County, across the sound from here, in 1860, maybe ’61 – round about the time of the secession, anyway. Look at the woman in the middle, sitting on that bench, holding her baby. Her name was Hattie MacInstry. Some Scots folks owned the place, she took her name from them. The little kid on her lap is Adelaide MacInstry. Her married name was Roberts. I’m her great-great-grandson. Her dad was the plantation overseer, man by the name of Obadiah Jakes. White man.’
His Chief of Staff whistled softly to himself, shaking his head. ‘My God, Linc, that’s a helluva story! From the plantation to the White House. I mean, that’s… that’s America, Linc, right there. What an image! Wish we’d had that in the campaign.’
‘That’s why I didn’t tell you about it sooner. I knew you’d want it. But we couldn’t have run a campaign that was all about moving beyond racial divisions and then shown people pictures of my great-great-grammy on a slave plantation.’
‘So why are we talking about it now?’
The President looked him right in the eye. ‘Because I aim to make the fight against slavery one of the central pillars of my foreign policy. I want to start a worldwide crusade for freedom, use the power of our great nation for good.’
Whatever Harrison James had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. ‘You know, you coulda told me this earlier. I mean, you just said we didn’t want to campaign on race. Well, we sure as hell don’t want to base our first administration on race.’
‘We’re not going to, because this isn’t about race,’ said Roberts, totally serious now. ‘It’s about humanity. Africans, Europeans, Indians, Chinese – all the children of the earth – are being bought and sold in every nation on the planet, including our own, in a slave trade worth a minimum thirty billion dollars a year. You know how many slaves were transported from West Africa to this country in the four centuries before the trade was abolished? About six hundred and fifty thousand. You know how many people are being trafficked across national borders every year, right now, in the twenty-first century? Eight hundred thousand. The current United Nations estimate for the number of men, women and children living in conditions of slavery today, worldwide, is almost thirteen million. Some people think the true figure’s twice as high. It’s an abomination, Hal, a stain upon all our consciences, and I aim to stamp it out.’
The President’s voice had been gaining in intensity as he spoke. He was tall and strongly built, blessed with the presence of a born commander-in-chief and the captivating oratory of a gospel preacher. Once he built up a head of steam Roberts became an unstoppable force. Harrison James tried to pull on the brake while there was still time.
‘But, Linc, it’s not like this is new. The State Department’s been issuing reports on trafficking for years. We’ve been putting pressure on other nations, spending hundreds of millions of dollars on enforcing action against criminals-’
‘Well, exactly, we spent hundreds of millions, in total, over several years,’ Roberts interrupted. ‘But we spend hundreds of billions on defence and the war against terror every single year, thousands of times as much. It’s time we looked at the world a different way. We’ve got to do something good, something that makes us feel proud of who we are and what we stand for. There are countless thousands dying and suffering every day because of slavery. What’s more American, what’s more patriotic, than standing up and saying, “That’s not going to happen on my watch”?’
Now, for the first time in a while, there was a rueful half-smile on Harrison James’s face. ‘You sound like you’ve been working on that speech a while. I guess we better work out a way to sell it to the Hill, the American people and the whole damn world.’
‘I already did,’ said Roberts. ‘There’s a conference on people-trafficking in Bristol, England, next month.’
‘Sure, we’re sending a delegation.’
‘I want to address that conference.’
‘Next month? But, Linc – Mr President, your schedule’s already fixed. I mean-’
‘Screw my schedule. Make it happen.’
The Chief of Staff’s face drained of emotion as friendship was forgotten and he became a subordinate taking an unwanted order from his boss. ‘Yes, Mr President.’
The room fell silent, the tension between the two men charging the atmosphere. Then the mood was broken by a knock on the door. It was already opening as Roberts said, ‘Come in,’ and a man with bland, clean-cut features, his mousy hair cut in a short, conservative, corporate style came in. He wore a black suit, white shirt and sober blue tie. A wire by his neck revealed the presence of an earpiece.
‘Any news?’ asked the President.
Special Agent Tord Bahr of the US Secret Service nodded. ‘Yes, sir. And I have to advise you, Mr President, that I strongly recommend evacuating you immediately. Our latest intelligence indicates a high probability of an attack on you tonight. There’s still time to get you away.’
‘You’re certain of the threat?’
‘Yes, sir.’
