Deception Point Page 27

The gaping hole in the ice now looked like a small swimming pussycat in the middle of the habisphere. The surface of the ii-hundred-foot-deep pool of melted water m aceyed for a while against the icy walls of the shaft and then finally grew calm. The waterline in the shaft was a good four feet beneath the glaciers surface, the form caused by both the removal of the meteorites mass and ices property of shrinking as it melts.Norah Mangor immediately set up SHABA pylons all around the hole. Although the hole was all the way visible, any curious soul who ventured too close and accidentally slipped in would be in dire jeopardy. The walls of the shaft were solid ice, with no footholds, and ascent out unassisted would be impossible.Lawrence Ekstrom came padding across the ice toward them. He moved directly to Norah Mangor and shook her hand firmly. Well dvirtuoso, Dr. Mangor.Ill expect stacks of praise in print, Norah replied.Youll get it. The administrator turned now to Rachel. He looked happier, relieved. So, Ms. sacristan, is the professional skeptic convinced?Rachel couldnt jockstrap but smile. Stunned is much like it.Good. wherefore follow me.Rachel followed the administrator across the habisphere to a turgid metal box that resembled an industrial shipping container. The box was painted with military camouflage patterns and stenciled letters P-S-C.Youll call the death chair from in here, Ekstrom said.Port suitable near Comm, Rachel thought. These mobile communications booths were standard battlefield installations, although Rachel had never expected to listen one used as part of a peacetime NASA mission. Then again, administrator Ekstroms background was the Pentagon, so he certainly had access to toys like this. From the stinker faces on the two armed guards honoring over the PSC, Rachel got the distinct whimsey that contact with the outside world was make only with express hope from Administrator Ekstrom.Looks like Im not the only one who is off-the-grid.Ekstrom spoke concisely with one of the guards outside the trailer and then returned to Rachel. Good luck, he said. Then he left.A guard rapped on the trailer doorstep, and it opened from within. A technician emerged and motioned for Rachel to enter. She followed him in.The inside of the PSC was dark and stuffy. In the bluish glow of the lone information processing system monitor, Rachel could make out racks of telephone gear, radios, and satellite telecommunications devices. She already felt claustrophobic. The bloodline inside was bitter, like a basement in larnter.Sit here, please, Ms. Sexton. The technician produced a rolling stool and positioned Rachel in apparent motion of a flat- sort out monitor. He set up a microphone in front of her and placed a spacious pair of AKG headphones on her head. Checking a logbook of encryption passwords, the technician typed a long serial publication of keys on a nearby device. A timer materialized on the projection sort in front of Rachel. 0060 SECONDSThe technician gave a satisfied nod as the timer began to count down. One minute until connection. He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Rachel could hear the bolt lock outside.Great.As she waited in the dark, watching the sixty-second clock slowly count down, she realized that this was the runner moment of privacy shed had since early that morning. Shed woken up today without the slightest inkling of what lay ahead. Extraterrestrial life. As of today, the most popular modern myth of all time was no longer a myth.Rachel was just now starting to sense how rightfully devastating this meteorite would be to her fathers campaign. Although NASA funding had no business being on a political par with abortion rights, welfare, and health care, her father had made it an issue. Now it was going to blow up in his face.Within hours, Americans would heart the thrill of a NASA triumph all over again. There would be teary-eyed dreamers. Slack-jawed sc ientists. Childrens imaginations running free. Issues of dollars and cents would fade away as petty, overshadowed by this monolithic moment. The President would emerge like a phoenix, transforming himself into a hero, while in the midst of the celebration, the businesslike senator would suddenly appear small-minded, a penny-pinching peasant with no American sense of adventure.The computer beeped, and Rachel glanced up. 0005 SECONDSThe screen in front of her flickered suddenly, and a blurry image of the White preindication seal materialized on-screen. aft(prenominal) a moment, the image dissolved into the face of President Herney.Hello, Rachel, he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. I trust youve had an interesting afternoon?29The baron of Senator Sedgewick Sexton was located in the Philip A. Hart Senate subprogram Building on C Street to the northeast of the Capitol. The building was a neo-modern grid of white rectangles that critics claimed looked more like a prison than an office building. Many who worked there felt the same.On the third floor, Gabrielle Ashes long legs paced briskly back and forth in front of her computer terminal. On the screen was a new e-mail message. She was not sure what to make of it.The first two lines readSEDGEWICK WAS IMPRESSIVE ON CNN.I HAVE more INFORMATION FOR YOU.Gabrielle had been receiving messages like this for the last couple of weeks. The return address was bogus, although shed been able to track it to a whitehouse.gov domain. It seemed her mysterious informant was a White House insider, and whoever it was had become Gabrielles reference for all kinds of valuable political information recently, including the tidings of a covert meeting between the NASA administrator and the President.Gabrielle had been leery of the e-mails at first, but when she checked out the tips, she was amazed to find the information systematically accurate and helpful-classified information on NASA overexpenditures, costly upcoming missio ns, data wake that NASAs search for extraterrestrial life was grossly overfunded and pathetically unproductive, even internecine opinion polls warning that NASA was the issue turning voters away from the President.To enkindle her perceived value to the senator, Gabrielle had not informed him she was receiving unsolicited e-mail help from inside the White House. Instead, she simply passed the information to him as coming from one of her sources. Sexton was always appreciative and seemed to know better than to ask who her source was. She could tell he suspected Gabrielle was doing sexual favors. Troublingly, it didnt seem to bother him in the least.Gabrielle stopped pacing and looked again at the newly arrived message. The connotations of all the e-mails were pull ahead Someone inside the White House wanted Senator Sexton to win this election and was helping him do it by aiding his attack against NASA.But who? And why?A rat from a sinking ship, Gabrielle decided. In Washington it was not at all uncommon for a White House employee, fearing his President was about to be ousted from office, to offer quiet favors to the apparent successor in hopes of securing power or another position after the changeover. It seemed someone smelled Sexton victory and was buying stock early.The message currently on Gabrielles screen made her nervous. It was like none other she had ever received. The first two lines didnt bother her so much. It was the last twoEAST APPOINTMENT GATE, 430 P.M.COME ALONE.Her informant had never before asked to meet in person. Even so, Gabrielle would have expected a more subtle spot for a face-to-face meeting. East Appointment Gate? Only one East Appointment Gate existed in Washington, as far as she knew. Outside the White House? Is this some kind of joke?Gabrielle knew she could not respond via e-mail her messages were always bounced back as undeliverable. Her correspondents account was anonymous. not surprising.