The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next day, Hawkins and Snowy wrapped Fido in padding to prepare the submersible for travel. Later that day, a truck arrived in Woods Hole courtesy of the same special number he had called to request a jet to Washington. They watched as Fido was removed from Hawkins’ workshop. As the truck drove off to Otis air base, Hawkins turned to his friend and said, “You’re probably wondering what that was all about.”

“Some.”

“Don’t blame you. I’m going to be gone for a while to work on a project. Leaving early tomorrow morning. Navy stuff, so I can’t tell you the details. Or how long. I wondered if you’d pick Quisset up tomorrow and take care of her while I’m away.”

“Glad to, Matt.”

Hawkins shook Snowy’s hand and then he and Quisset walked back into the house. He packed a bag full of clothes and another with dive gear. Then he climbed to his study and spread out some satellite photos he’d asked a geologist to prepare. Using a magnifying glass, he studied the lake and a lush-looking section of farmland that surrounded a village. He was surprised to see an airstrip.

He spent the next few hours laying out an action plan that covered every eventuality he could think of. He took a quick dinner break and precisely at eight o’clock he called up the video conferencing link on his computer. A Cheshire cat flashed onto the screen, fading until only its enigmatic smile remained. The crescent of pointed teeth morphed into Molly’s Mona Lisa smile and her full face materialized.

One never knew what to expect of Molly.

“What’s with the cat?” he said.

“Virtual kitty. No feeding. No litter box.”

Hawkins knew that was as far as he was going to get with the enigmatic computer genius.

“Are we all set up for the teleconference?”

Sutherland nodded slightly. Her head shrunk on the screen and moved to one side to allow space for Hawkins’ face, then the screen split into quarters and Abby and Calvin appeared like a couple of CNN talking heads. Hayes hadn’t changed much. The wide mouth was stretched in a grin.

“Hawk! You are looking good, man,” Hayes said in his soft-spoken New Orleans drawl. “You too, Abby.”

“Thank you, Cal,” she said. “It’s nice to see you. Thanks for arranging this reunion, Matt.”

She flashed Hawkins the smile that used to get his pulse racing.

“My pleasure. I’d like to introduce you to my friend Molly Sutherland.”

They both said hello, and Abby added, “How come we’ve never heard of you, Molly?”

“Because that’s the way I prefer it,” Molly said. “I like to be in the background.”

Abby cocked her head. “If that’s the case, how did you and Matt meet?”

“Fate,” Sutherland said.

Abby’s eyes narrowed. Matt saw a further question poised on his ex-wife’s lips. He knew first hand about Abby’s persistence and Sutherland’s manic defense of her privacy and broke up the exchange before it started.

“I’ll start by reviewing my own work over the last twenty-four hours.”

He described their objective and outlined his plans. Get in undetected. Use the submersible to speed up the search for underwater caves. Dive into the lake. Find the treasure. Escape.

“Molly, could you give us an overview of what you’ve done?”

Sutherland looked pleased to be the first called upon. Her mouth turned up slightly at the corners.

“I’m putting together the comprehensive historic file on Prester John that you asked for and catalogued the data so it can be accessed forensically according to specific questions. I’ve also established a file on any mention of Prester John anywhere in the world in the last six months. I’ll be combing that file to see if I can find anything relating to the mission.”

“That will be a big help, Molly.”

“Now to mission protection,” she said. “I’ll mine the internet for any hint that the mission has been compromised. I’ve established a surveillance program to keep an eye on internet traffic. If anyone is talking about us in conjunction with Prester John it will trigger a red flag.”

“That sounds like a miniature version of the NSA,” Abby said.

“The program is patterned after the NSA forensic search logarithms. And it’s not miniature. It’s a full blown data mining operation that samples all possible sources.”

The quick shake of Abby’s head signaled her skepticism. “That would take enormous capacity. You must have a room full of computers.”

“I don’t need a room. I sneak into other peoples’ rooms and borrow their computer capacity.”

Hawkins was enjoying Molly’s smack-down of his hard-charging ex-wife, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. “Thanks, Molly. That’s exactly what I had in mind. Abby?”

Abby would have liked to have learned more about Sutherland, but she got right down to business.

“My assignment was to get everyone and everything into Afghanistan without going through official channels. A charter air service my company uses will transport personnel and gear directly into Kabul. We board six o’clock tomorrow morning at Dulles. A civilian security contractor will do the in-country insertion and the extraction. Everything will be ready to go within the window of opportunity you specified.” She said to Hayes, “Cal, what sort of load can we expect?”

Hayes looked as happy as a kid reciting his Christmas wish list. “I’ve ordered up a couple of sets of desert cammo dress uniforms,” he said. “We’ll be carrying CAR-15s,” he added, referring to the compact version of the M-16 with the folding stock and the shortened barrel. “For side arms, I know you like the Sig Sauer 9 mm, Matt.” He went down a list that included extra ammunition, a GPS, satellite phone, rations, first aid and survival items. “I’ve stuck in an M-203 for good luck, Matt.”

The M-203 was an aluminum tube with a breech that could hurl an explosive round roughly the size of two golf balls several hundred yards.

“I’m all for good luck,” Matt said. “But strictly speaking, this is not a military mission.”

“Hell, Hawk, I know that. But what are you going to do if you run into some bad guys, throw a rabbit’s foot at them?”

Calvin had a good point. “You can keep your little bean-shooter. You didn’t mention what we’re going to use to carry all that stuff.”

“Saving the best for last. I’ll have a DPV with extra fixings waiting for us at the airport.”

The Desert Patrol Vehicle was a dune buggy on hormones with a 200-horsepower Volkswagen engine that could kick it up to a speed of ninety miles per hour.

“Sounds like you covered all the bases, Cal. Anyone have comments?”

Abby had followed the discussion closely. “One adjustment. I’d like you to order up a third line of gear. I wear a size six.”

Hawkins shook his head. “I thought you’d only go as far as Kabul, Abby.”

“I said I wanted to follow through on the logistical support.”

“Damnit, Abby, why do you have to be so difficult? This isn’t exactly a stroll in the park we’re talking about.”

Hawkins knew he’d said the wrong thing the second he said it. Abby’s eyes narrowed. She reminded him that she had trained in covert operations and survival techniques at Annapolis, and that she was an expert marksman and an experienced diver.

“All true, Abby, but you forget that I’m in charge of this mission.”

“And you forget who’s organizing it. Besides, I still outrank you.”

It was an unkind cut, and one Hawkins had experienced before, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“We’ll have more time to talk about this on the flight to Afghanistan,” Hawkins said, although he could tell from the stubborn tilt of Abby’s chin that there would be no yielding on her part. “Cal, pack a third set of gear for the lady, just in case.”

“See you in Washington in the morning,” Abby said, setting her lips in a tight smile.

She disconnected from the teleconference. Hawkins told the other two he would send them a summary of his plans. Their pictures faded and Hawkins shut down the teleconference. He tented his fingers, thinking, then turned back to the photos on his desk and sketched out the action plan that had been bouncing around in his head. As he worked, he heard a distant rumbling. A thunderstorm was moving in.