Legacy

5

The jointly managed space facility run by the Russian Federal Space Agency and the Russian Space Forces was located 124 miles from the Aral Sea. Since the heyday of the Soviet space program, Baikonur Cosmodrome had seen occasional fits of activity, but since the Russian president openly declared that his countrymen would make an attempt at the investigation on the lunar surface, the facility had seen activity on a massive scale. Forty thousand workers had flooded into the old buildings in Kazakhstan, making the area near the sea once more a viable force in science and space exploration. A much needed transfusion of rubles and euros was flowing in.

As the world watched in wonder, the unveiling of Russia’s top secret lunar program, Ice Palace, began to take shape, and it came far faster than any Western government could ever have imagined.

The giant first stage of a rocket known as the Angara A7, the most powerful launch system the world had ever seen, was being transported to the assembly building three miles from where the mission would be launched. The great system was strapped down and prone on the tractor system, looking like a scene from Gulliver’s Travels as it crawled along at four miles per hour toward the waiting hands of its engineers. The seven RD-91 rocket motors were partially covered, but most of the bell funnel system was open for satellites the world over to see. Not since the massive engines of the Saturn V blasted America to the Moon had there been anything like the RD-91s.

The hydrogen-based rocket fuel was capable of creating almost double the thrust of anything Russian science had developed since the horrifying failures of its N series of rockets in the sixties and seventies. The new design was a source of pride for a Russian lunar program that was now twenty years ahead of schedule.

The man watched from two hundred yards away. His eyes studied the Russian air force security personnel who traveled beside the Angara A7 first stage. The security force was a hundred strong and each of the green-clad soldiers carried an automatic weapon. As the man watched, he could see massive gaps in the security line. The force of guards was just not enough to cover the giant launch platform as it moved out toward the assembly building on the huge caterpillar.

The man was dressed in an expensive Western suit. He pulled the equally expensive coat tightly around him as he turned to the shorter man at his side.

“Your martyrdom is assured. Your family will take with them through life the knowledge that your actions will benefit Allah and his glory. You are the man who will strike the first blow against the infidels and their mission to cast God into the shadows. Is your team prepared?”

The small man looked up at his benefactor. He knew the man as Azim Quaida, the former leader of the Islamic terrorist front Egyptian Islamic Jihad. In Western intelligence circles he was also known as the Mechanic.

“My men are ready. Allah be praised.”

“You may proceed with your mission. The attempt to belittle God shall end in this godless country. La illahah illalah, ” he said with unbridled pride. There is no God but Allah.

The smaller man pulled his long coat around his thin frame. Tears streaked down his cheeks.

“Allah Akbar,” he said proudly.

The larger man placed his hand on his shoulder. “You will be in heaven this day, and you will proudly say you struck the first blow against the humiliation of Allah.”

The smaller man turned away and gestured to the ten men who comprised his small unit. Several of them carried sound equipment and cameras. They would approach the slowly moving Angara A7, as many had in the past three hours, just a group of journalists using the new rights afforded to the Russian press.

They broke away into four different teams and separated into groups of two that would approach the crawler from both the near and far side. No chance would be taken that the experimental first stage could survive the attack. Two teams hurriedly crossed the massive fifteen-gauge tracks of the crawler and set themselves to filming on the far side. The other two knelt and started filming from the near side, taking care to zoom in on the proud Russian air force security element. The young men smiled, thinking that their pictures were being streamed live into the living rooms of friends, relatives, and lovers.

On the small knoll overlooking the scene, the Mechanic shook his head. He had once been as those below, but that was before the traitorous acts of men in a position of power, men who had sold out Jihad for safety in lands other than their own. Money was his driving force now. He felt a pang of guilt and shame at what he was doing to his loyal men. He turned away toward the small car that would carry him to the main gates of Baikonur. He knew the young men would carry out the task assigned to them. As he stepped into the backseat of the car he pulled out his cell phone and hit a speed-dial button.

“I suspect you are watching the glory of Russian science on your television?”

“I most assuredly am, as is the Reverend.”

The Mechanic pulled up the sleeve of his coat and looked at his watch.

“Well, my friend, say good-bye to the tranquil, patriotic scene on your television.”

McCabe didn’t comment, he just hung up.

The Mechanic rolled down the window and, instead of disconnecting, pushed several buttons. The built-in scrambler started shuffling phone numbers to the forefront of its computerized memory-numbers that would lead Russian intelligence to a place that would surprise no one, the Islamic terrorist Jihad against the West. McCabe had provided the phone, but the Mechanic hesitated for a brief moment, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He shook his head at the way he doubted the plan. He looked at the cell phone and saw that the power was on and its signal intact. The authorities should have no trouble in recovering the small phone. The bearded man smiled and tossed the cell phone through the open window and then tapped the seat in front of him, just before the car sped away.

The first hint of trouble caught the young security force off guard. The group of newspeople on the far side of the crawler gently placed their equipment on the ground, smiling as they did so. The forty-five-man security unit was taken totally by surprise as the men rushed the crawler and its heavy cargo, the Angara A7 booster rocket.

A lieutenant colonel reacted first, bringing out his holstered handgun just before the younger air force personnel around him jumped into action. He fired six quick shots in succession as the first four-man team rushed the crawler. Two men fell and a third was hit in the right knee. The man staggered and went down, but not before he pulled the striker on the forty pounds of C-4 that had been meticulously strapped to his torso. The explosion rocked the security detail, sending most to the ground with bleeding eardrums. The large detonation on the far side alerted security. The Angara rocked on its railway car, straining the straps that held it in place. It quickly settled, but not before the second team had made shocking progress toward the railcar.

The last man threw himself underneath the car, but not before the security force fired thirty rounds into the bodies of his fellow team members. One of the men rolled over onto his back and screamed, “God is great!” He was struggling to pull the small wire that would send an electrical charge into his package of C-4. Just as he finally located the thin wooden handle attached to the silverish wire, the large steel wheels of the train car ran over both his legs. The young boy screamed and tried to pull himself from the path of the giant crawler, but only managed to tear his legs away from his body. He skewered onto the tracks just as the next set of wheels ran down the center of his head and torso. The C-4 remained undetonated.

The second and last team didn’t seem as lucky at first. Security personnel downed all four of them almost as soon as they could aim their weapons. It looked as though the maddened attempt on the Angara A7 booster system had failed, but then the first of the wounded, the man closest to the crawler, looked to the sky and pulled the thin wire. The explosion rocked the ground and sent the railroad track twisting in all directions. The motion rocked the Angara A7. Its restraining straps broke free just as the fireball struck the polished white paint.

The security men, the gathered reporters, and the administrators of the Moon project were thrown back by the first attempt at stopping the lunar mission. However, more destruction was on its way. The second team, though down, detonated another eighty pounds of C-4 with their dying breaths, creating a blinding force of heated energy. This time the A7 booster didn’t stand a chance. The force of the blast struck it just as it ripped free from its restraints. The impact tore the booster rocket from the car and pushed it onto the far-side security element. The aluminum and copper housing of the A7 rolled over, crushing a hundred men and women.

Finally the paint on the booster caught fire as the electrically powered crawler exploded in a burst of flame and sparks, blasting into a frightening future.

Jack was fuming. Mendenhall, along with a bandaged Ryan and Carl, understood Jack’s frustration when the Event Group ground crew discovered the small bomb that had been placed on the nose wheel of the Learjet twenty hours after it had landed. The device was sitting on Jack’s desk and one member of the security team, Marine Corps Corporal Albert Espinoza, was in the process of dissecting its simple technology.

“Basically, Colonel, everything here could be bought at RadioShack or Walmart. We don’t have anything that will lead us anywhere.”

The news footage of the attack in Kazakhstan had been seen by every person in the complex. Jack and the others knew immediately that it was tied in somehow to James McCabe and whoever paid for his services. Thus far the only thing the Event Group could do was talk the FBI and Interpol into issuing a warrant for the former Delta colonel’s arrest, and even then he would only be wanted for questioning about his role in Ecuador. That country had already issued its findings and nowhere was there a mention of Colonel McCabe in their initial report. Jack, Carl, Ryan, and Mendenhall, however, had been given a few pages apiece inside the file that the State Department received from South America on their status as fugitives.

As for the Russian attack, intelligence sources inside an angry Kazakhstan had traced a cell phone found at the site to a group called the Egyptian Islamic Jihad, known to have close ties with al Qaeda. Thus far the public had not been told of the terrorist cell’s involvement. They didn’t want to scare off the man who once ran the cell, Azim Quaida, known to Jack and antiterrorist organizations as the Mechanic. Collins, as well as many Western intelligence officials, didn’t believe this organization could pull off such a dramatic and destructive act as had occurred at Baikonur.

“Here’s something for you, Colonel,” the corporal said, as he used a pair of tweezers to pull a small chip from its soldered position on the small circuit board. “This here is a chip designed by Hiroki Limited. It only has one use and that’s as a link between it and a Tetra Global Positioning satellite owned by that company.”

“That means this bomb could have been used as a tracking device after it failed?” Everett asked, tossing a pencil onto his desk.

“Yes, sir, its original task was to allow the detonation signal to reach this unit from anywhere around the world, as long as it was in range of the Tetra satellite. However, it could just as easily be used to track the unit if it wasn’t destroyed. So basically they had the option of destroying the plane or following it.”

Collins shook his head. He removed the small Tetra chip from the Marine corporal’s fingers and looked at it. Then he handed the silicon chip back and closed his eyes.

“Thanks, Espinoza, you can return to your duties, and take that thing with you. See if you can get a spectrum analysis on the C-4. Maybe we can come up with a batch number for a trace.”

“Yes, sir,” the corporal said, gathering his tools and the makings of the bomb. He left the office.

“So, the assholes may know where we are,” Everett said. He stood and reached for the door to the office, closing it.

“At least where our base of operations is located,” Jack said with a frustrated look. “All they know thus far is that Niles and his team landed at Nellis. I don’t think that’s a problem, but if it’s McCabe and his people they know now that Niles is linked with us, and that could be a problem. In the art of war there are very few coincidences. Our flight plan was filed from Nellis and that’s where the tracking device on Niles aircraft led.”

Everett, Mendenhall, and Ryan were silent as the colonel started talking through what they had learned.

“We can’t learn anything here. And we’re only in the way of Niles and his team as they carry out the president’s orders. Pete has run into a dead end as far as McCabe goes. His last known whereabouts were Los Angeles six years ago. He has no financial statements, no IRS records after his military days, and no passport, at least one with his real identity on it.” Jack sat down hard on the desktop. “The answers lie in Germany.”

“Niles has suspended that end of the investigation. The president is trying to find a political solution. As long as there’s a chance that we can get into the excavation legally, that’s what they want to try.”

Collins turned and faced Everett. “If what we think is down there is there, and all of this Flash Gordon stuff fails, there could be a race between us and other countries to get to Ecuador. That’s when the shooting will really start.”

“I think the shooting’s already started,” Ryan said, probing gently at the bandage covering his nose. “Just ask the Russians.”

“I think you’re right there, Lieutenant.” Jack stood once more and paced. “It’s got to be McCabe behind this. And his paymaster, whoever that is-we have to go to Germany.”

The three men from the Security Department watched as Jack stood and left the office.

“I think we’d better brush up on our German, because I’ve seen that look before,” Everett said as he too stood.

“Where are you going, Captain?” Mendenhall asked.

“Where else?” he said, smiling. “To pack.”

Jack was waiting for the elevator so he could track Niles down in the Engineering Department on Level 35 when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned and saw Sarah standing there with her arms full of books, smiling up at him.

“Hi, short stuff,” he said as he saw several men and women passing by in the large hallway on Level 7, enough that any more intimate contact was out of the question.

“Colonel Collins,” Sarah said formally.

“What’s all this?” he asked, waving his hand at the armload of thick books.

Sarah didn’t answer at first and actually lowered her eyes before speaking.

“They’re nothing, geological stuff, far beneath your pay grade.”

Jack saw the look that said I can’t talk about it, and was about to comment on her shortened answer when the elevator arrived with a gentle air-assisted swoosh. He stepped back and allowed Sarah to enter first, and then he followed. A man in a white coat stepped up but saw the look on Jack’s face and the simple tilt of his head that suggested he should probably catch the next elevator. The doors closed.

“Level, please?” the computerized Europa asked in her Marilyn Monroe voice.

“Thirty-five,” Jack said, not caring what level Sarah needed. “Okay, what gives? You, Niles, and Virginia have been cooped up in the science departments for four straight days while the rest of us have been cooling our heels.”

Sarah watched the LED numbers beside the elevator doors descend as the air-cushioned ride accelerated.

“Europa, can you stop here please and secure the elevator?” Sarah asked, looking at Collins.

“Please state emergency,” Europa said, as the elevator came to an abrupt but gentle stop.

“No emergency,” Sarah said, as she took a deep breath and then went to her tiptoes. She gave Jack a deep, long kiss, so hard that neither noticed three of her books fall to the carpeted elevator floor. She pulled back and looked at him for the longest time. “We’re trying to get a handle on this mineral, but so far we’re having no luck at all. This afternoon we finally got a linkup with Jet Propulsion Lab and a chance to watch as they tried to bring the rover John back online. They’re hoping we can view the devastation inside Shackleton.”

“That’s not all there is. I know you, Lieutenant, and as nice as your kisses are, I’m not accepting the bribe for my silence. Now what’s going on?”

“Have Will and Jason received their orders yet?” she asked, reaching down to retrieve her fallen books. That was when Jack noticed a large manila-colored book that had nothing to do with geology: the NASA and United States Air Force training manual for space operations.

“What orders?” he asked, his eyes finally leaving the manual and locking on Sarah’s.

“All I know is that Ryan and Mendenhall are being assigned to my team. Nothing more than that.”

“Why do you need a security element in a lab?” he asked. His eyes bore so deeply into her own that Sarah had to turn away.

“Jack, I love you, and you know that, but I’m also an officer in the Army, just like you. You follow orders and so do I.”

“Okay, short stuff. Keep your little secret,” Collins said as he handed her the last fallen book. It was on the mineral properties of meteorites. “But keep in mind that whatever Niles and the president are cooking up, people are starting to die over this thing.”

“Jack, we know that, and I wish I could tell you everything, but I just don’t know. I do know you, though, and you can’t storm into Niles’s office and demand that I be kept safe. Whatever they have planned, if you want me to back away from my job, I’ll do it, for you. But it has to be me doing the requesting, not you.”

Collins reached out and hit the blinking Level 35 button again, overriding Sarah’s request for the car to stop.

“You know I won’t do that,” he said, his eyes cast down. He turned and smiled at McIntire. She smiled in return. “Not because you’re an officer in the Army, but because I love you too and would never ask you not to do your job because of that love.”

The elevator came to a stop and Europa announced that they had arrived. As the doors opened Pete Golding was standing there. He looked surprised to see both Jack and Sarah.

“Oh, hello, Colonel,” he said, adjusting the thick glasses on his nose.

“Pete,” Collins said, stepping out of the car. He looked back at Sarah as Golding stepped inside. He winked as the doors started sliding closed.

Before the door closed, Jack heard Pete say, “I’m glad I ran into you, Sarah. Europa wants your exact measurements. NASA needs them ASAP.”

“Damn it,” Jack said as he turned and went to find Niles.

Jack finally tracked Niles down in the astrophysics lab on Level 35. When he walked inside he saw that the entire division was present. Most of the technicians and scientists were sitting at computer consoles and the rest were studying virtual reality diagrams projected onto every inch of wall space. Collins saw designs he had seen as a kid from the Apollo program. These were being studied and modified by the people Jack knew as the best in the astrophysics business. He saw Niles in the far corner conferring with Virginia Pollock and when Compton finally noticed Jack standing at the door he nodded once to Virginia and excused himself.

Niles once more looked tired and ragged, his white shirt stained with ink at the front pocket and the slight rim of hair that circled his head uncombed and messy. He smiled as he stepped up and faced Jack.

“I figured you would come looking for me before too long,” he said as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Jack, the president has more than enough to handle at the moment, Ecuador is really pushing Interpol to get that arrest warrant to the State Department.”

Jack remained silent as his eyes moved from Niles toward the far wall, where he saw the projected image of the Ares VII rocket. It was being moved by crawler to an assembly area at what looked like one of the Western Air Force bases. That meant it was either Vandenberg or March. His bet would be the Vandenberg launch facility in Central California.

“What in the hell is going on here, Niles?” he finally asked as a flurry of activity near one of the engineering stations drew his eyes. “I see the president’s not taking any chances like the Russians did.”

Niles placed his glasses back on and looked at the image of the giant Ares being moved toward the second assembly building at Vandenberg.

“The Chinese are only two weeks away from launch. We’ve learned from NSA and CIA resources that they have a totally viable system in the Chinese Lunar Exploration Program, or CLEP. They’re far more advanced than Western intelligence ever thought possible. They actually have two ready-to-go platforms and are capable of placing twenty men and women on the Moon.” Niles turned back to face Jack. “We’ve also learned that as many as fifteen of those may be Chinese Special Forces personnel, but we’re still gathering intel on that.”

“What you’re saying is they’re preparing to introduce armed force into this thing?”

“Yes. At least I’m convinced that they are. The president, not so much.”

“Are they fully capable?” Jack asked, remembering the books Sarah was carrying.

“The China National Space Administration has every intention of not only recovering the mineral and technology from the surface of the Moon, they intend to hold their ground with a series of launches, possibly creating a permanent or at least rotating presence on the Moon.” Niles took Jack by the arm and steered him toward an empty corner of the massive room. “The Chinese have adapted no fewer than six of their heavy-lift Long March launch vehicles for lunar operations. They have the landers and science to back this up. Everyone was caught off guard-again.”

“Jesus,” Collins muttered.

“In two weeks they plan to launch at least two systems from their Xichang Satellite Launch Center northwest of Xichang City. They really screwed the European Space Agency. They stole a lot of their hardware and software technology for the missions.”

“The damn world is going to turn the Moon into an armed camp,” Jack said, looking harshly at Niles. “You know what happens when you get a bunch of soldiers together in an intense environment and they all have guns, don’t you, Niles?”

Compton rubbed his temples.

“People start shooting each other,” Jack said as he shook his head. “Tell the president the priority is on Earth, Niles. We have leads on where to find Columbus right here, so why risk the lives of people by sending them out there?” he asked, gesturing angrily toward the sky.

“Jack, the president is basing his decision on my recommendation, and there are elements that outweigh… well, we need to be in on this for reasons I can’t go into right now. That’s a presidential order-the hanging kind, if disobeyed.”

Collins was taken aback. He had never known Niles Compton to take the extreme measure before the practical. The look in the director’s eyes was one of determination, and Jack knew he had better not push the issue further, at least not yet. He hoped Niles wasn’t feeling power-hungry in a way that would taint his decisions.

“Do you think you’re using your influence with the president a little outside the lines of what’s proper, Mr. Director?”

Niles looked at Jack and his features were a cross between hurt and anger.

“I guess that’s for the president to decide, Colonel,” he answered, but he saw that Collins immediately regretted what he had said.

“I’m sorry, Niles,” Jack said. He took a step back and rubbed his eyes. “That was uncalled for.”

“Jack, what if we don’t find Columbus or if we can’t get into Ecuador even to search? What’s our backup?”

“That’s why the president has to allow me and a team to get our asses to Germany.”

Compton turned away from Jack and watched the harried activity around him. He smiled to himself and shook his head.

“Jack, Interpol will be on you like hounds. They’re taking this murder thing seriously. They want you and Carl pretty bad. The president suspects the Ecuadorians are being pushed by someone.”

“Better people than Interpol have wanted my ass before, Niles.” Collins watched Compton to see how he reacted to what he said next. “I noticed you didn’t include Mendenhall and Ryan in that statement. The last I knew they were with Carl and me in Ecuador.”

“You sneaky son of a-!” Compton paused. “What do you know?”

“Nothing, I just observe when I’m down here, that’s all.” Jack picked up a small electronic device. He looked it over and placed it back on the console.

“Okay, Jason and Will are being reassigned to a team being led by Lieutenant McIntire. That’s all I can say for now, Jack. This is a NASA thing, not mine.” He took Collins by the arm and looked into his eyes. “I can tell you that what you’re worried about is remote. There are two elements, or teams, ahead of hers.”

“We can stop all this madness, Niles. Let me and Carl get to Germany before it’s too late.”

“And what if you’re caught and extradited to Ecuador?” Niles asked with a tinge of anger in his voice.

“Well, we’ll need to go back there eventually anyway,” Collins said with a smirk. “All kidding aside, Niles, we may be able to prevent something really bad from happening. In case you hadn’t noticed, we have some very well equipped people out there who aren’t all that thrilled about outer space and what it has to offer.”

“I know that,” Niles said. He mentally surrendered and waved Virginia over to where they were standing.

“Jack,” she said, pushing her hands into her lab coat.

Collins nodded and looked at Niles, who had made a decision.

“Virginia, cut the colonel and Captain Everett orders releasing them from duty at the complex. They are on extended leave for the next five days.” He looked at Jack.

“Okay,” she said, turning to face Collins. “Going fishing again, Jack?” A smirk of her own stretched across her pretty face.

“Yeah, something like that. Look, since we won’t have Mendenhall, I need someone who’s good with Europa on a mobile terminal. Can you spare anyone?”

Niles lowered his head in thought. He looked at Virginia and then at Collins.

“We’re in the planning stages of what we need to do. I have the entire computing staff at my disposal and I have Virginia. That leaves our resident genius Pete Golding free. Take him.”

Collins looked from Niles to a surprised Virginia. Neither could hide their shock at the mention of Pete’s name.

“I appreciate the offer, but Pete has exactly zero hours in the field. This could get a little dicey.”

“I understand that, but with Pete you have a fighting chance of discovering something others would overlook. He’s the best, and you need every advantage you can get. He’ll dig up a starting point for you. Leave him on the plane if you have to, but take him.”

“Okay, Pete it is.” Jack knew that they did need someone good. They were going to Germany without really knowing who it was they were looking for. “I also want Doc Ellenshaw. He’s down in the Crypto Department doing absolutely nothing, and we just happen to be dealing with something that’s not just about the past but may be about our entire history. Ellenshaw irritates Pete to do better. And besides, I like the way the doc thinks out of the box.”

The director looked happy that Jack seemed satisfied. Then the happiness fled as Collins faced Niles and Virginia, focusing finally on the director.

“Can I ask a question that you probably won’t answer?”

“Of course.”

“Why did the president choose you to coordinate something this big when it’s obviously out of your area of expertise?”

Niles ignored Jack’s question. “You got Charlie and Pete and your orders. Good luck, Colonel.” Niles started turning away to get back to the amazing work going on in the science department. Then he stopped and turned back to face Collins. “Colonel, if you get caught, I don’t know if we can help you,” Compton said. He watched Jack, who had already turned for the door. “And take care of those two professors. I happen to like them.”

“Say good-bye to Lieutenant McIntire and tell her she better not do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“Jack, did you hear what I said?” Niles asked. Collins reached the doorway and then turned and looked at both Niles and Virginia.

“Mr. Director, concentrate on the what if’s of getting those people back if you have to send them up there. That’s a little more unforgiving than being caught by Interpol.”

As they watched Collins leave the lab, Niles looked at his deputy director.

“He’s got a point, doesn’t he?”

“That’s one thing I’ve noticed, Niles,” Virginia said, as she watched the door closing behind Jack. “The colonel always has a good point.”

The meeting was as tense as McCabe had ever had with the billionaire head of Faith Ministries.

“I really don’t understand your anger,” he said to Rawlins. Rawlins’s daughter stood by the window without comment and without much expression during the whole meeting. “We have stopped the Russian project dead in its tracks with a minimal expenditure of men and material, and placed the blame on our friend the Mechanic just as planned. He’s none the wiser. We now know that this Compton is linked to the intrusion of Colonel Collins and his men down in Ecuador. We have the government of that nation on our side thanks to your bribes, so now we have the upper hand there also.”

“The point of my daughter killing this Compton was to send a message to the president, telling him in no uncertain terms that there is a growing groundswell of religious passion he has to deal with.” Rawlings spat the words. “Killing his front man would have given him pause. Just look at the thousands of God’s people who protest in front of the president’s home. He cannot ignore the facts any longer-going into space is not the Lord’s will.”

“I don’t know what world you live in sometimes, but the killing of one man rarely deters a president from doing what he needs to do. My intelligence people have linked the president with Niles Compton. They’re old school buddies. Killing him would have had the opposite effect of what you desired. So please, allow me to conduct the operations as I see fit, or you can go about them alone.”

For the first time in the meeting, Rawlins was silenced. McCabe saw him take a breath and then his eyes wandered to Laurel’s back. Her arms were crossed and her body stiff.

“Your daughter’s desire for excitement, while dangerous, can be assuaged if she wishes. The last remaining man who can pinpoint the burial site for Columbus has been found in Munich and preparations for his elimination are progressing. If Laurel wishes, she can accompany the Mechanic when he goes to Germany to take care of this gentleman.”

Both Rawlins and McCabe turned their eyes toward Laurel. She finally turned and looked at McCabe. He saw that the storm in her features had not yet subsided.

“To watch as your little pet terrorist does the wet work?”

“Laurel, you’re still learning. Anything more at this time could get a little dangerous,” Rawlins said, standing and attempting to hug his elder daughter. She angrily threw his arms off and continued to stare at her now ex-lover McCabe.

The former Army officer finally smiled and stood.

“Okay. I’ll send you to meet with the Mechanic and I’ll order him to allow you to have your warped fun. Right now he’s in California making plans. Your plane leaves for Germany in eight hours.”

A smile crossed her face. She looked from McCabe to her father. He wasn’t smiling.

“I never imagined you were so dedicated to the Lord that you would offer yourself up as a sacrifice to his cause,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her to him and hugged her. “I pray it’s not for the want of blood that you do these things.”

She maneuvered her head so she could see McCabe. He saw her smile, her eyes ablaze with passion-not for the Lord but for the thrill she was getting as she realized that she would soon have a man’s life in her hands, a life she fully intended to take.

McCabe gathered his papers and headed for the door.

Soon he’d have to distance himself from these nuts.

They all watched the rover John as it used its drill arm and bucket carrier to right itself at the rim.

The camera angle shifted, it seemed to go crazy for a moment and then the picture stabilized. Loud shouts and cheers coursed through the control room as John had pulled off the miracle and righted itself. The view was once again spectacular and the technicians shouted praises to the telemetry team that had come up with the plan to use the complicated appendage system to correct the problem of John lying on its side.

Nathan looked to his left and the president nodded his head, mouthing the words, “Great job.”

No one but the closest Secret Service agent could see the small laptop in front of the president of the United States, nor the clear picture of Niles Compton as the president spoke to him in hushed tones.

“Okay. Let’s get ready to shut John down to recharge,” Nathan called out, as he waved for his people to sit back at their stations. “He’s got to be tired after all of that effort to sit up.”

The president was talking into his headset. Then he nodded to no one and placed a hand over the microphone. He leaned over and said a few words to the director of JPL. The man raised his brows and said a few words back to the president, but it seemed the president had said what he had to say and continued looking at the older man without blinking. He just nodded his head in the direction of Nathan.

“Cancel that order,” the director called out. “Bring John back to the edge of the crater. We need to get a view of the interior.”

“Wait a minute, John is starving for power. We need a recharge and if we’re not careful we could lose him. If he doesn’t receive his order in the right amount of time, he could go right over the edge.”

The president of the United States fixed Nathan with a calm look, and everyone could see that he was struggling to keep his cool.

“Mr. Nathan, that is an acceptable risk. Now please bring John to the rim of the crater,” the director of JPL ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Nathan answered, not understanding the willingness to risk the only Beatle left on the surface of the Moon. “REMCOM, shut down until we can get as precise a measurement as possible to the crater’s rim.”

Before the telemetry relay station could answer, the president stood and looked over the room below him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you have done great work to this point. What I have to say is that I may know a few things you don’t. I’m sorry for the risk, but for the moment use your best guess. We just don’t have the time for any lengthy calculations. Get me a view of the inside of that crater-now.”

All eyes turned from the president to Nathan, who nodded his head. Not that he understood, but he had to follow the orders of the highest-ranking man in the space program.

“Julie, John ’s your baby. Give it your best guess as to the distance from John ’s current position to the edge of the crater. Utilize the boom as much as possible and when you’ve achieved a good view of the interior, shut down the tracks.”

The young technician quickly studied the camera view from John. She closed her eyes briefly. A minute later, the view changed as John panned its lens around. She made a few keyboard punches and then shook her head.

“Estimate is that John can only travel thirteen feet, eight inches, before he goes over the side. I recommend… er, uh, my best guess would be thirteen feet and then we’ll use the boom to get a look inside Shackleton.”

Nathan looked over at the president, who had replaced his headphones and was speaking once more to the mysterious person on the other end. Nathan suspected that person was giving the president very bad advice.

“I sure hope you’re right, baldy. If looks could kill, some other lucky jerk would be finishing out my term.” The president looked around as he waited for Niles to say something.

“We need to know what kind of devastation we have inside that crater. We have to have some idea of the destructive force of that mineral. I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t have to have every bit of information we can possibly get. It’s either that or you’re forced to make a judgment call that will send many men and women on a trip they may not come back from.”

The president couldn’t argue with the call Niles was making him commit to.

“Okay, once more you’ve got me over a barrel.”

All eyes watched as the command finally reached John and the rover started rolling. At first it was a herky-jerky movement that caused a lot of concern. They hoped that John hadn’t blown one or more of the rubber treads off its long arms and wheels. Finally the ride became smooth and, except for the swaying picture from John, the rover started following its dangerous orders to advance to the rim of the crater.

Every muscle inside the control room tensed. The president sat as calmly as he could as the Beatle approached the end of forever. He did not feel as calm as he looked. They were risking the only eyes they had on scene, and that risk was asking a lot.

The camera angled up to the star-filled sky as the rover’s ascent of the slope commenced. Every person in the room wanted to send a command for John to stop right there, but still the Beatle kept climbing the ridge leading to the edge. Finally an audible sigh of relief coursed through the room as John came to a stop.

“Yeah!” Nathan called out. Then he looked around and cleared his throat as he tried to regain some of the professional bearing he always displayed. “Uh-apologies everyone. Julie, great job. Now, REMCOM, let’s get the president the view he wants.”

“Sending the command,” a female voice called out.

The president sat and watched. After the minute of communication delay, the camera started to angle down into the crater. The boom had been extended to its full height of ten feet from the body of the Beatle. As the focus of the lens auto-adjusted to take in the view, another gasp arose from the men and women watching. The president stood, momentarily stunned by what he was seeing.

“Damn, Niles, are you seeing this?” the president asked. This time he didn’t care if anyone overheard him.

At first there was silence from the Nevada end of the linkup.

“I think it’s fair to say our priorities have just been upgraded.”

“What do you mean?” the president asked, his eyes glued to the large screen in front of him.

“No matter what, we are a go for the Moon, with as many people and as much equipment as we can get up there. This cannot fall into the hands of any one nation. If at all possible we have to destroy this should a cooperative agreement on the current emergency not be achieved, shattering the Case Blue accords and ending a possible allied deal. We need what’s up there desperately, but not until we can get an agreement as to what that technology is to be used against. If it can’t be used in conjunction with Case Blue, then the miracle find needs to be destroyed.”

The president refused to comment further as Niles said something he wasn’t supposed to mention over the airwaves. The secretive aspect of what only one hundred people in the entire world knew about was what was driving everyone to extremes. He wasn’t ready to explain what was really happening yet to the American people, much less the world.

On the large screen below was a sight that froze the hearts of everyone.

Sitting in the deepest part of the Shackleton Crater, buried for what could have been a billion years and uncovered by the explosion of the mineral sample, was what looked like an entire base. Some of the upper reaches of the buildings had been destroyed by the blast, but for the most part it had survived the devastation intact. The billion years of lunar soil had been lifted, burned away, or melted, exposing a sight that rivaled any artist’s conception of ancient ruins.

The president counted over seventy-five buildings made from a material he couldn’t begin to guess at. There was piping running in and out of glass enclosures, buildings with giant doors and loading platforms. The sight was like looking at a future age Moon base, familiar perhaps to some of the most ardent science fiction fans, but terrifying to others with more earthbound imaginations.

“I would say there may be items in that base that many nations would be willing to risk a war over,” Niles said. “Or possibly something we may be able to use against a more worthy and deserving foe. Are we agreed on that?”

“Niles, that’s enough. Your point is made. I’ll speak with the Chinese again, but not another word about our true intentions over the air.” The president lowered his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, then relaxed and looked at the view from Shackleton one more time. “Okay, Mr. Director. You are now a go for Operation Dark Star. Confirm?”

“We’re way ahead of you,” Niles answered. And then the line was disconnected.

The president pulled off his headphones and lay them on the desk, and then he stood and buttoned his jacket. As he did so, the doors to the control room opened and fifteen blue-clad Air Police from the United States Air Force entered the room. As they spread out toward each telemetry station, they started collecting discs and paperwork describing the day’s activities from the Moon.

“Once again, ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate everything you’ve achieved, and want to say thank you for your dedication, but Operation Peregrine has just been militarized.” The president saw the shocked civilian faces of everyone in the control room as their work was taken from them. “All this can and will be explained to you after some decisions are made. You are still in control of the Peregrine mission, make no mistake about that.” The president felt like Joseph Stalin for the strong-armed way he was doing things. He had never wanted to be the bullying ex-general that most people secretly feared after becoming president.

“Then why is our work being taken? Everything here has to do with Peregrine.” Nathan was no longer able to hold his anger in check.

“Because, pretty soon you’ll be assisting a manned expedition to the very spot your John is now looking at.”

“You mean we’re going back to the Moon, sir?” Nathan asked, totally taken aback.

“Yes, Mr. Nathan, we are. In force if we have to.”