The Eden Prophecy

CHAPTER 48

With dusk settling over the Middle East, Danielle sat in the left front seat of a maroon powerboat as it skimmed across the glassy surface of the Persian Gulf. To her right, Hawker’s friend Keegan piloted the craft, while Hawker sat behind them, studying an image on the laptop computer that had been downloaded from the NRI mainframe. The body armor and the AR-15s they’d taken into the desert rested beside him on the bench seat.

A mile ahead she saw the outline of a crude carrier heading their way. The ship rode high in the water, its tanks empty.

“Stay clear of the channel,” she said. “Don’t want to be confused for suicide bombers.”

“Right,” Keegan said. “Any idea where we’re going yet?”

“South,” she said.

“I figured that,” he said, “since we’d need wheels to go north from where we were.”

She moved back to where Hawker was and sat down beside him.

“What do you think?”

He turned the laptop toward her. She’d studied the image briefly when it arrived, but since it would likely come down to planning an assault on the island, she figured Hawker was more qualified to look at it.

“This image came from an NSA satellite?” he asked.

“A pass this morning,” she said. “Caught the island in the sweep, but it wasn’t the target, so the information isn’t as detailed as I’d like.”

“The buildings are all on the south side,” he said. “What isn’t blackened and burned looks abandoned.”

Danielle zoomed in on the island. It couldn’t have been more than an eighth of a mile across. On one side there were bundles of mangled pipes and what looked like pumping equipment. A few control buildings and a helicopter landing platform built out over the water looked shot full of holes and falling apart. A four-hundred-foot vessel lay against the west edge of the island. It was difficult to tell if it was docked or had been run aground.

“Looks like what Yousef described,” she said.

“It also looks abandoned.”

“I believe he told me the truth as he knew it,” she said. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t clear out once they got Sonia or the seeds.”

Hawker nodded. “I believe he told you the truth, too. Do we have an infrared scan?”

“Not on this pass,” she said, then glanced at her watch. “But the second pass should have gone over a few minutes ago. We’ll know if there is activity there any minute now.”

Thirty seconds later the satellite phone lit up. Danielle grabbed it.

For a second all she heard was the buffeting of the wind, caught in her own transceiver’s microphone. She turned to the side, sheltering the phone. Moore’s voice came through.

“Danielle?”

“Go ahead, Arnold.”

“Where are you right now?”

“We’re out in the Gulf, heading due south. Do you have the latest pass?”

“We do,” Moore said. “NSA confirms heat sources from the stranded freighter and some of the other structures. That island should be dark but it’s not.”

About as she’d expected. It was good news. “So this is probably the right place.”

“Seems to be,” Moore said.

There was a shortness in his voice that she didn’t like. As if he was waiting to drop some bad news.

“Where do we meet up with the assault team?” she asked.

“Danielle …”

“We could trail them in,” she said. “Or we could go in with them. Either way they’re going to need our help to confirm what we’re looking for.”

“There’s not going to be an assault team,” Moore said.

That was odd. They’d been preparing one an hour ago.

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re not raiding the place.”

“Why?” she asked.

“That rock is in Iranian waters,” Moore reminded her. “It’s been in dispute between Iran and Iraq for decades. The damage you see was done all the way back in ’86. No one’s touched it since.”

“So?” she said. “What does that have to do with us? Surely we’re not letting Iranians deal with it.”

“Yes,” he said sarcastically, “everyone here is eager to tell Mahmoud Ahmadinejad that the weapon of mass destruction he’s always wanted is just waiting for him a few miles off his coast.”

“Then what are we doing?” she asked. “If there’s no assault team, and we’re not going to involve the Iranians …”

“The navy’s going to hit the island with a spread of Tomahawks,” Moore said. “It’s a presidential order.”

“When?”

“Twenty minutes from now.”

She took a breath. “What about the hostages?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Obviously they’ll be lost if they’re on-site.”

Silence rang on the line and Danielle glanced over at Hawker. He could hear every word. He hadn’t reacted, almost as if he suspected it would go this way.

She felt for him. She understood why the president would make the decision Moore had attributed to him, and sentiment was not going to override that. But there were logical reasons not to blindly obliterate the island.

“What if the cult isn’t there?” she said. “What if these are just some squatters? We’re going to end up thinking we’ve saved the world only to get sucker-punched one day.”

“We can establish that after the fact.”

“After you blow the island to hell?” she said. “Do you think there will be enough left to establish anything? Do you think the Iranians are going to say, ‘Hey, go ahead put some inspectors on our island, why not? Nice of you to blow it up for us in the first place’?”

Moore responded with evidence. “The freighter wasn’t there six months ago,” he said. “We’ve tracked it to an undisclosed buyer in Singapore. It was dumped for scrap. It should be in pieces somewhere getting melted down, not jammed up on the beach of an Iranian island in the Gulf. This is the site, we’re sure of it. And after what we’ve learned no one’s taking any chances.”

Danielle knew he was right, but she could only think of the heartbreak, and not just Hawker’s.

“The virus Ranga created can be used for good,” she said. “You know that. It could lead to all kinds of treatments, things that are just theoretical right now. You destroy that ship, you destroy the research.”

“Better than a worldwide catastrophe,” he said.

“And if they have another base?”

He hesitated.

“Come on, Arnold. There’s a reason the CDC keeps anthrax and smallpox and other nasty germs on hand, because we need to research them and understand them in case something happens. This ship is our only chance to get ahold of 951 and the Eden virus. Our only chance to understand them. You blow it to ashes and the next time we see a virus like this, it’ll be too late for everyone.”

“Danielle, I know all this,” Moore said, sounding exhausted. “I’ve spent the last hour making the same arguments to the president and his staff, but one concern overrides all the others. According to your prisoner they have missiles. Unless they’re extremely short-range that puts Kuwait, southern Iraq, and most of the Gulf in the red zone. One missile, one dispersal, and it’s all over.”

The weight of the truth pressed her down like a heavy stone on grass. She felt spent, exhausted, defeated. She couldn’t even think of another argument.

After days of fighting with Hawker, Moore, and Yousef, after traveling from Washington to Croatia to Paris to Beirut and then Iraq, she had nothing left, especially since she knew Moore was right.

Moore sensed it. “I appreciate everything you and Hawker have done,” he said. “But direct from the president, you’re both to stand down.”

The buffeting sound returned. It took all she had to speak another word. “Anything else?”

“Please tell Hawker I’m sorry,” Moore said.

“I will,” she said, and then she clicked off and Moore was gone.

On the speeding boat in the Persian Gulf, she placed the phone down and turned to Hawker.

“You don’t even have to say it,” he said.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him.

“They do what they have to,” he said, sounding oddly at peace with the order.

She could guess why. “You’re still going in,” she said.

He nodded.

“Then I’m going with you.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “It’s not your fight.”

“Your fight is my fight,” she said. “Besides, this is my job. They bomb that place to hell without any idea what’s there and we’ll never know if we’ve dodged a bullet or if it just hasn’t been fired yet.”

Hawker nodded, then looked past her. “Keegan, you want us to drop you over the side with a life jacket or two?”

Keegan looked back from the helm as if Hawker had lost his mind. “You know I can’t bloody well swim,” he said.

“You grew up on an island,” Hawker replied. “You were a Royal Marine. Last I heard marine means something to do with the water.”

“What can I tell you,” Keegan said. “Standards were lower back then. Besides, the chance to violate Iranian sovereignty for a second time in two days absolutely intrigues me. I don’t think it’s ever been done. We could be legends. I could retire, put on fifty kilos and still get free pints at every pub in London if I had that feather in my cap.”

Hawker chuckled and squinted into the distance. “So it’s the three of us against whatever they have waiting.” He turned back to her. “How many guys do you think they have?”

Danielle exhaled. “Knowing our luck, at least a hundred or so.”

The absurdity of it brought a smile to Hawker’s face. He began to laugh. Keegan did, too. And Danielle joined in, giggling at her own joke.

“Poor bastards,” Keegan said. “They don’t stand a chance.”