Sedona Conspiracy

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ^BRIEFINGS

Arthur Evans splashed cold water on his face and wiped it dry with a towel. He combed his hair and put the comb in a glass on the shelf in front of the mirror, studied himself, and decided the long, daily walks were doing some good.

The door opened, and Len was standing there. “Gilbert Norton is here, Mister President. He’s waiting for you in the office.”

“Thanks, Len. I want you there, too. Take some notes for me.”

“Yes, Mister President.” Len opened the door wider, and stepped to one side. Arthur clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. He liked Len: quiet, unassuming manner, a good-looking kid, and sharp as a tack.

It was only a few steps, and he opened a door leading to the oval office. Gil had been sitting in a chair near the big, mahogany desk, and stood.

“Morning, Gil. Good to see you again.” Arthur shook his hand. “You know my aid. He’ll be taking some notes so I’ll remember what I’m supposed to do.”

“Hi Len,” said Gil; Len smiled faintly, and sat down on a leather couch.

“I appreciate your time, Mister President.”

Arthur sat down behind his desk, and then Gil sat down. “Sounds like things have really been heating up,” said The President.

“We’re getting close. The flight test is the end of the week. They’ll be going for a hundred thousand feet and what Eric Price is calling hyper-flight. I don’t know what that means, and Eric claims he doesn’t either. He just expects Sparrow to achieve extreme speed.”

“That man has been quite a surprise,” said Arthur. “We sent him there to find and eliminate a saboteur, and instead he’s become a chief scientist for the project. How did that happen?”

“I don’t know, and neither does Eric. The insights come to him in bursts. He thinks he’s been somehow programmed with hypnosis or even telepathy. A woman he’s been seeing could be involved, but we’ve checked her out and she seems totally clean. There has been an attempt on Eric’s life, but we feel he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Johnson was his prime contact at the base, and was trying to tell him something; Johnson’s assassin was still there when Eric arrived; we figured he tried to kill two for the price of one.”

“And the killer is still on the loose.”

“He is, but we’re not aware of any new sabotage. The project has been moving ahead quickly. We’ve been checking out one suspicious individual who is bribing personnel for information on the project, but we can’t find anything on him, even a birth record. The man claims to represent corporate interests. Quite frankly, Mister President, I think Eric Price knows more about him, but is holding back. And I think his explanation for his scientific accomplishments is a bit convenient. His knowledge could only have come from our foreign associates, but if Eric has made contact with them he’s not telling me about it.”

“Are you telling me he’s unreliable? Do you want to recall him?”

“Not at all, Mister President. He’s doing his job. I’ve always had a policy of giving field agents free hand in day-to-day operations. If Eric isn’t telling me something, he has his reasons. And his achievements in moving Shooting Star ahead have been outstanding.”

“Success of the project is what this is all about, Gil. If the man has your trust, he has mine. Is there anything else I should know about?”

“No, Mister President. That’s all I have for now. I’ll call after the test flight. That’ll be early Saturday or Sunday morning.”

Arthur stood up, and Gil stood with him. Arthur walked around the desk and shook hands with his old friend again.

“I’m encouraged, Gil. Things were stumbling along until we got your man in there. I’m amazed at how much he stirred up in such a short time. But it’s hard for me to find the words to express how important this project is to me, and to humanity, for that matter. If what we’ve been promised is true, we can go to the stars. The perspective of the entire human race could be changed overnight. This belongs to all of earth’s people, Gil, not just one nation.”

“I agree,” said Gil, “and I think your attitude is the reason they brought Shooting Star to us in the first place, and not one of the other western countries.”

Arthur squeezed Gil’s hand again. “And I don’t intend to betray that trust, old friend,” he said. You think you understand, but you don’t, he thought.

“Anything I can do, call me.” Arthur took Gil by the elbow, led him to the door. “Say hi to Jean for me.”

“She misses the quiet dinners we used to have,” said Gil.

“We’ll have them again, after I survive this second term.”

The door closed, and Gil was gone. Len sat on the couch, an empty note pad on his lap. He looked expectant. Arthur’s expression was suddenly serious. “Okay, let’s get our Mister Brown in here and find out what’s really going on.”

Len left the office. Arthur returned to his desk, sat down, and riffled some pages of a folder without seeing them. He checked his appointment calendar and made a few doodles on a notepad.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and it opened. Len leaned inside and said,” Mister Brown is here, Mister President.”

“Send him in, Len, and please wait outside.”

A tall man came into the room. The dark blue business suit he wore had been carefully tailored for him. Eye-candy for my receptionist, thought Arthur. At the doorway, the man bowed, and clicked his heels together as the door closed behind him.

Arthur stood. “Vasyl, it’s good to see you again. I’ve just been hearing good things about our project. Please, sit down.”

Vasyl sat. “There have been problems, but we’re gradually working through them.”

“I’ve been particularly interested in the progress made by an operative of ours named Eric Price,” said Arthur.

Vasyl smiled. “Yes, he has created quite a stir.”

“How so? I’ve read the man’s file. No doubt he’s a fine scientist, in addition to his more violent skills, but I find it hard to explain the breakthroughs he’s achieved in such a short time. Surely you’ve been feeding him information you couldn’t trust other people with.”

“We have, sir.”

“But why? There were others you could trust, like Johnson. The lack of information transfer has slowed progress to a crawl until now.”

“Johnson was murdered, sir, because we gave him key information directly and by ordinary means, and he was unable to keep it to himself. We didn’t want the same thing to happen again. Price has been advised subliminally and with key words or visual patterns to bring information to a conscious level when needed.”

“But why Price?”

Vasyl smiled. “Because he’s one of us.”

“WHAT?”

“An incredible coincidence, I know. And Price has no knowledge of his heritage. One of our people was the first to see it at a party Price attended. I’m afraid her attraction to him is a bit of a problem right now, but she has been our information conduit and we have to trust her. Price seems quite taken with her.”

Arthur was amazed. “What webs we’ve woven here, even without knowing it. But when you get down to it, we’re all the same people.”

“Watt is also one of us, sir, but I do not claim him. Now he’s dropped out of sight, and we anticipate more sabotage or worse. I’ll spare you the details, but there has been more than one attempt on Price’s life, and with the flight test only days away we’re expecting another. There was an attempt to place a bomb on the star craft just yesterday. I have only a few cloaked personnel, barely enough to cover the star craft and portal bays, and then there was a kidnap attempt on one of our people in town, the woman Price is attracted to.

“I have three people with cloaking capability to cover all our town operatives, including Price. I need four times that, and I need a visible permanent force at the base. Davis is not cooperating. He insists our people must leave at the end of each working day, and the guarding of the bays is hopelessly inadequate. Davis says he will not tolerate the continuous presence of foreign troops in his command.”

“You want me to order it? Officially I haven’t even been informed about this project. The Pentagon sees it as a minor issue of technology transfer from turncoats. Only a few even know how advanced that technology might be.”

“Including the man who just walked out of your office,” said Vasyl.

“Yes.”

“And he’s in charge of your deepest security operations. He could make a request. You wouldn’t have to know details. It would be a diplomatic gesture to a friendly, foreign power.”

“I’ve known Gil a long time. Hell, I trained him, and I know what he’ll say. The presence of foreign troops on a highly classified base is a bad precedent. Why not order Davis to use his own people, and stiffen up the guard for the project?”

Vasyl sighed, and shook his head. “We don’t trust his people. Watt has been spreading money around like butter, and he’s infiltrated their ranks just like we have. When something happens, Watt knows it within hours, and we’ve only identified a couple of his sources. I need to have our own people there, in force, and before the flight test.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, and drummed the fingers of one hand on his desk for a moment. He fixed his gaze on Vasyl, and then said, “I realize I’m a bit out of practice in the clandestine world, but I hear you telling me that Watt and his followers might attack the base with considerable force of arms.”

“It’s a real possibility, sir. We have to be ready for it, at least for the next two weeks. Flight-testing has to be done in two stages, or we could lose the star craft, and it would take us years to bring in another. Governments come and go, and our next one might cancel the entire project.”

“Only a fool would do that.” Arthur rocked in his chair, and studied Vasyl’s face. The man was calm, but his eyes betrayed the anxiety within him. Arthur had known him for nearly two years, but they had met formally on only three occasions. Vasyl had the good looks and manners to charm anyone, but he had the daring of a combat officer and the attention to detail of an accountant. Arthur liked him.

“All right, I’ll talk to Gil right away. Everyone will know the order has come down from me. We don’t have time for arguments.”

Vasyl visibly relaxed. “Thank you, sir. I realize this is a political risk for you.”

“Blowing my nose in public is a political risk, Vasyl. Everything is headline news in this country.”

“Our people will never be seen outside the portal and support bays, and they’ll be dressed as American marines. When should I activate them?”

“Give me until midnight. If I haven’t called, then do it.”

“Yes sir.”

“I really appreciate what you’ve done, Vasyl, and the personal sacrifices you’ve made for us. It’s hard to spend an entire tour of duty away from family. Any children?”

“One girl. She just turned four. I’ve been collecting dolls for her—and some jewelry for my wife.”

“Well, this will all be wrapped up soon, the way things are going, and we’ll see you back at home. Maybe I’ll get a chance to visit you there someday. I should get back to the Old Country at least once. My people came here so long ago there’s probably no family of mine left across the big sea anymore, but it couldn’t hurt to look.”

Arthur stood up, signaling that the audience with The President had ended. Vasyl stood, and the men shook hands. Arthur walked him to the door.

“We’re making history, Vasyl,” said Arthur. “Unfortunately, the public might never know the who or the how, only that suddenly we can travel to the stars. I think that’s a good thing.”

“I agree,” said Vasyl.

Arthur opened the door for him, and clapped him on the back. “Then let’s do it,” he said, and Vasyl went away.

Arthur returned to his desk and took a cell phone from a drawer, punched in numbers and listened.

“Gil?” he said softly. “Something has come up, and I need you back in my office right away. I hope it’s not too inconvenient.”

He laughed. “Ah, good. See, there’s an advantage to slow cab service on occasion. Give me ten minutes, and come right in.”

Arthur hung up, punched a button on his intercom. “Dorothy? Gilbert Norton will be returning soon. Send him right in when he arrives.”

The President of the United States took pen and legal pad, and began scribbling an order with language terse enough to make even the toughest Pentagon obstructionist obey without argument.

He was still scribbling when Gil arrived.