Deception Point Page 53

THUD. THUD. THUD.THUD THUD THUDTHUD. THUD. THUD.Theres no metre Tolland said.Its not about us, she thought. Its about the information in my pocket. Rachel pictured the paint a picture GPR printout at receivet the Velcro pocket of her Mark IX suit. I indigence to bulge out the GPR printout into the hands of the NRO and soon.Even in her delirious state, Rachel was certain her put across would be received. In the mid-eighties, the NRO had replaced the SAA with an array thirty multiplication as powerful. meat global coverage Classic Wizard, the NROs $12 million ear to the sea floor. In the next few mins the Cray supercomputers at the NRO/NSA listening post in Menwith Hill, England, would flag an anomalous sequence in one of the Arctics hydrophones, decipher the throbbing as an SOS, triangulate the coordinates, and dispatch a rescue plane from ultima Thule Air Force Base in Greenland. The plane would find leash bodies on an sparklerberg. Frozen. Dead. bingle would be an NRO e mployee and she would be carrying a strange put up of thermal paper in her pocket.A GPR printout.Norah Mangors final legacy.When the rescuers studied the printout, the shady insertion tunnel beneath the meteorite would be revealed. From there, Rachel had no idea what would happen, yet at least the secret would not die with them here on the ice.60Every presidents transition into the discolor digest involves a hole-and-corner(a) tour of three heavily guarded warehouses containing priceless collections of past White House furniture desks, silverware, bureaus, stratums, and different items used by past presidents as far lynchpin as George Washington. During the tour, the transitioning president is invited to select any heirlooms he likes and use them as furnishings inside the White House during his term. Only the bed in the Lincoln Bedroom is a per manhoodent White House fixture. Ironically, Lincoln never slept in it.The desk at which Zach Herney was currently sitting inside th e Oval Office had once belonged to his idol, Harry Truman. The desk, though small by modern standards, served as a daily reminder to Zach Herney that the buck did hence stop here, and that Herney was ultimately responsible for any shortcomings of his administration. Herney accepted the responsibility as an honor and did his best to instill in his staff the motivations to do whatever it took to get the job done.Mr. President? his secretary called out, peering into the wrap upice. Your call just went through.Herney waved. give thanks you.He reached for his phone. He would have preferred few privacy for this call, unless he accepted as hell was not going to get any of that right now. Two makeup specialists hovered like gnats, poking and dress at his face and hair. Directly in front of his desk, a television receiver combination was setting up, and an block offless swarm of advisers and PR people scurried well-nigh the office, excitedly discussing strategy.T minus one hourHer ney pressed the light button on his private phone. Lawrence? You there?Im here. The NASA executives voice loweringed consumed, distant.Everything okay up there?Storms still moving in, but my people tell me the orbiter link will not be affected. Were good to go. One hour and counting.Excellent. Spirits high, I hope.Very high. My staffs excited. In fact, we just shared some beers.Herney laughed. Glad to hear it. Look, I wanted to call and thank you in the first place we do this thing. Tonights going to be one hell of a night.The administrator paused, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. That it will, sir. Weve been waiting a long time for this.Herney hesitated. You sound exhausted.I need some sunlight and a real bed.One more than hour. Smile for the cameras, enjoy the moment, and whence well get a plane up there to bring you back to D.C.Looking forward to it. The man fell silent again.As a skilled negotiator, Herney was trained to listen, to hear what was being said between the lines. Something in the administrators voice sounded off somehow. You sure every(prenominal)things okay up there?Absolutely. All systems go. The administrator seemed eager to switch over the pigboatject. Did you see the final cut of Michael Tollands documentary?Just watched it, Herney said. He did a fantastic job.Yes. You make a good call bringing him in. appease mad at me for involving civilians?Hell, yes. The administrator growled good-naturedly, his voice with the usual strength to it.It do Herney feel better. Ekstroms fine, Herney thought. Just a little tired. Okay, Ill see you in an hour via satellite. Well give em something to talk about.Right.Hey, Lawrence? Herneys voice grew low and solemn now. Youve done a hell of a thing up there. I wont ever leave it.Outside the habisphere, buffeted by wind, Delta-Three struggled to right and repack Norah Mangors toppled equipment sled. Once all the equipment was back onboard, he battened atomic pile the vinyl top and draped Man gors dead tree trunk across the top, tying her down. As he was preparing to drag the sled off course, his twain partners came skimming up the glacier toward him.Change of plans, Delta-One called out above the wind. The other three went over the edge.Delta-Three was not surprised. He also knew what it meant. The Delta Forces plan to percentage point an accident by arranging four dead bodies on the ice shelf was no longer a viable option. Leaving a lone body would pose more questions than answers. Sweep? he asked.Delta-One nodded. Ill withhold the flares and you two get rid of the sled.While Delta-One care amply retraced the scientists path, collecting every last clue that anyone had been there at all, Delta-Three and his partner moved down the glacier with the laden equipment sled. After struggling over the berms, they finally reached the precipice at the end of the Milne Ice Shelf. They gave a push, and Norah Mangor and her sled slipped silently over the edge, plummeting into th e Arctic oceanic. modify sweep, Delta-Three thought.As they headed back to base, he was pleased to see the wind obliterating the tracks made by their skis.61The nuclear submarine Charlotte had been stationed in the Arctic Ocean for five days now. Its presence here was highly classified.A Los Angeles-class sub, the Charlotte was knowing to listen and not be heard. Its forty-two tons of turbine engines were suspended on springs to dampen any vibration they might cause. Despite its requirement for stealth, the LA-class sub had one of the largest footprints of any reconnaissance sub in the water. Stretching more than 360 feet from nose to stern, the hull, if placed on an NFL football field, would crush both goalposts and then some. Seven times the length of the U.S. Navys first Holland-class submarine, the Charlotte displaced 6,927 tons of water when fully submerged and could cruise at an astounding thirty-five knots.The watercrafts normal cruising sagacity was just below the thermoc line, a natural temperature gradient that distorted echo sounder reflections from above and made the sub invisible to surface radar. With a crew of 148 and max dive depth of over fifteen hundred feet, the vessel represented the state-of-the-art submersible and was the oceanic workhorse of the United States Navy. Its evaporative electrolysis oxygenation system, two nuclear reactors, and engineered provisions gave it the ability to circumnavigate the globe twenty-one times without surfacing. Human waste from the crew, as on most cruise ships, was savorless into sixty-pound blocks and ejected into the ocean-the huge bricks of feces jokingly referred to as whale turds.