The Swords of Babylon

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Jonathan Gates hurried into the crisis meeting, still dazed and unable to fully grasp the absurdity of the situation he currently found himself in. Twelve men sat around the enormous table, stern gazes reflecting either the precedence of their station, the gravity of their concerns or the depth of their desperation. These were powerful men — undoubtedly some of the most powerful men in the world — but they were still only men, fighting to be heard.

President Charles Coburn nodded toward him. “Jonathan, sit down. We can get started.”

Gates took his seat, seeing the Vice President, the Secretary of State, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the President’s Chief of Staff and the Counsel to the President all assembled along with Directors of the CIA, FBI and Homeland, plus two five-star generals.

President Coburn indicated the latter two. “General Stone and General Edwards. You should start at the beginning.”

Stone took the lead. “We believe the three tombs at Iceland, Hawaii and Germany represent the biggest threat to America’s freedom and security since the cold war. Forget Al-Qaeda, the potential threat inherent through ownership of Singen’s doomsday device is unprecedented. And now,” he half turned toward Gates, “with the latest revelation that a second method of activation probably exists, I feel — we feel — that America should take the initiative.”

If possible, the expressions at the table grew even more severe, but it was still impossible to gauge where everyone’s view would land. Or better, Gates thought. On which side everyone’s agenda would be best served.

“Go on.” Coburn leaned over as his assistant whispered briefly into his ear.

“The only way to be safe and sure is to activate the device, see what it does, then deactivate it, either making it unusable or burying it in a deep hole somewhere.”

Gates saw an immediate head shake from the Director of the CIA and counted him as a potential ally. “It’s already in a deep hole,” the Director said. “And a German one at that. How do you propose to pull that one off, General?”

Stone pursed his lips. “Any way we can, sir. This is the country’s wellbeing at risk.” He was clearly pursuing the security and vulnerability angle which, Gates imagined, was the main reason he hadn’t been kicked straight back to base. A clever angle, more important to the people assembled in this room right now than anything else.

Especially to the President. “What makes you think you can turn it off again?”

“NASA send men into space. MIT train supercomputer engineers. We surely have enough learned minds between us to disable an archaic device. It might not even work.”

“But we need to know,” the other General spoke up.

President Coburn turned to Gates. “Your team is pursuing this one, Jonathan. Assuming we can talk the Germans into cooperating, what’s your take?”

Gates studied the President. Though in his mid-fifties he looked more like a fit young man of forty, with the face and physique of someone who looked after himself and worked out regularly. Gates had heard it said that Coburn only slept three hours every night, not because of the demands of the job, but because that was all he needed. The President’s face was now open and expectant. Gates had never taken him for a fool. That said, he still decided to appeal to the man the President used to be and, deep down, undoubtedly still was.

“You were once in the field, sir. You know the importance of letting the team do its work. Eyes and boots on the ground are crucial and need paying attention to. They will come through.”

“How can you possibly know that?” The President wasn’t blustering or complaining, or even drawing on past experience. It was a sincere, viable question. And not a man in this room really cared that the President had once fought with honor for his country. Since he had signed that oath of office he had become, by necessity, a very different man. One who was sometimes forced to bend, like a tree amidst a hurricane.

Gates tried a different tack. “They’ve never failed us before, sir. They did, in fact, discover all of these tombs. They captured Dmitry Kovalenko—”

“I’m aware of the team’s accomplishments, Jonathan,” Coburn interjected. “But unless you can give me a concrete reassurance that your team will stop the device being activated a second time, then I suggest you give me a straight answer.”

Gates licked his lips. “We don’t know for certain, Mr President.” From the corner of his eye he thought he saw General Stone’s face crease into a smirk, but when he glanced that way, the man turned his head.

“Mr President,” Stone said. “Give me the resources to at least put a plan into place. Let me prepare. Then, if the Secretary’s team doesn’t come through, we at least have a valid back up.” Everyone heard the inflection and several almost smiled.

“It’s too risky,” Gates said.

“It’s riskier not to try,” Stone affirmed. “The country’s independence is at stake.”

Gates flinched inside. He knew precisely what would happen if Stone found himself in command at Singen, but the sway of this room was leaning toward General Stone. With such support, the President would surely have to honor a simple request. But Stone was angling for glory, and almost everyone here would accept the General’s declaration that America possessed the bright minds capable of deactivating Odin’s device on spec. Maybe it did.

Trouble was, Gates thought. Rather than working at NASA or studying at MIT, the mindset they needed now was more likely to be that of the peculiar loner slapped in jail for hacking supercomputers or the weird bedroom lout hitting the top of the leader boards of the new Tomb Raider game.

Courage, strength, skill, a trace of crazy and the flair for fantasy. It was what they needed. He thought of it as the motto for SPEAR. If what the team had learned so far was true and the old gods were again part of all this, then the crazy and fantastic might be the only things that saved them all in the end.