Sacred Stone

“The Corporation,” Overholt said.

“They were in charge of the Dalai Lama’s return to Tibet, were they not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I figured they’d all be retired by now,” the president said. “They hit a financial home run with that operation. Anyway, I have no doubt as to their skill—if I had been you, I’d have done the same thing.”

“Thank you, sir,” Overholt said.

The air force chief of staff spoke next. “So the situation is that we have an iridium orb loose at the same time that there is a Ukrainian nuclear weapon missing. If one meets the other, we’ll have a hell of a problem.”

The president nodded. That was the situation in a nutshell. He paused.

“Here’s what I want done,” he said finally. “Mr. Dwyer should recover some of these extraterrestrial buckyballs and start experimenting. If there’s a chance that an extraterrestrial virus can be unleashed, we need to know about it. Secondly, I want the military and intelligence unified in an effort to locate this meteorite. Thirdly, I want Mr. Overholt to continue to work with the Corporation—they’ve been on this since the onset, so I don’t want them pulled. I’ll budget whatever funds we need for their fees. Fourthly, I want this kept quiet—if I read about this tomorrow in the New York Times, whoever leaked it will be fired. Last is the most obvious: We need both the Ukrainian nuke and the meteorite recovered as quickly as possible so we don’t start the New Year with a crisis.” He paused and looked around the table. “Okay, everyone, you know what you’re supposed to do. Just get the job done and let’s wrap this up.”

The room started to empty but the president motioned for Overholt and Dwyer to remain. Once the marine guard had everyone herded out, he shut the door behind him and stood guard outside.

“TD, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Dwyer said.

“Give me the sour milk.”

Dwyer glanced at Overholt, who nodded.

“If there is a virus in the molecules that comprise the meteorite,” Dwyer said slowly, “a nuclear detonation might be the least of our problems.”

“Get me Cabrillo on the telephone,” the president said to Overholt.

23

ON BOARD THE Oregon the conference room was full.

“At three hundred fifty miles out we can launch the Robinson,” Cabrillo said. “If we fly at a hundred miles an hour against the headwind, we should be able to arrive in the Faeroe Islands around the same time as our mystery ship.”

“The problem is,” Hanley said, “with only you and Adams on site, there’s no way you can storm the vessel. It would be suicide.”

“These guys,” Seng added, “are badasses.”

Just then the door to the conference room opened and Gunther Reinholt, the Oregon’s aging propulsion engineer, poked his head inside.

“Mr. Chairman,” he said, “there’s a call you need to take.”

Cabrillo nodded and rose from the head of the table, then followed Reinholt into the hall. “Who’s calling?” he asked.

“The president, sir,” Reinholt said, leading Cabrillo toward the control room.

Cabrillo said nothing—there was really nothing to say. Reaching the control room, he opened the door, made his way over to the secure telephone and lifted the receiver.

“This is Juan Cabrillo.”

“Please hold for the President of the United States,” the operator said.

A second or two later a voice with a twang came on the line. “Mr. Cabrillo,” he said, “good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon to you, sir,” Cabrillo answered.

“I have Mr. Overholt here with me—he’s already briefed me. Could you explain the current situation?”

Cabrillo gave the president a quick recap.

“I could scramble some planes out of England and take out the ship with a Harpoon missile,” the president said when Cabrillo had finished, “but then the nuke is still out there, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Cabrillo agreed.

“We can’t land troop transports at the Faeroe airport,” the president continued. “I checked and the airport is too small. That means our only shot is to helicopter in a team, and my estimates are that to prepare and deploy a force up there would take six hours.”

“We estimate we have three and a half to four hours tops, sir,” Cabrillo said.

“I checked with the navy,” the president said. “They have nothing in the area.”

“Mr. President,” Cabrillo said, “we have a locator placed on the meteorite. Until it is combined with the nuclear device, it is of limited threat. If you give us permission, we believe we can follow the meteorite to the location where it is to be mated with the nuke and recover both at the same time.”

“That’s a risky strategy,” the president said.