Deception Point Page 27

The gaping hole in the ice now looked desire a elflike swimming pool in the middle of the habisphere. The surface of the two-hundred-foot-deep pool of melted water sloshed for a while against the icy walls of the shaft and then lastly grew calm. The waterline in the shaft was a good four feet beneath the glaciers surface, the discrepancy 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 clearly 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 climbing aside unassisted would be impossible.Lawrence Ekstrom came padding across the ice toward them. He moved today to Norah Mangor and shook her hand firmly. Well d angiotensin-converting enzyme, Dr. Mangor.Ill expect lots of praise in print, Norah replied.Youll get it. The administrator turned now to Rachel. He looked happier, relieved. So, Ms. Sexton, is the professional skeptic win over?Rachel couldnt help but smile. Stunned is more like it.Good. Then follow me.Rachel followed the administrator across the habisphere to a large metal box that resembled an industrial transportation system container. The box was painted with military camouflage patterns and stenciled letters P-S-C.Youll call the President from in here, Ekstrom said.Portable Secure Comm, Rachel thought. These mobile communications booths were standard battlefield installations, although Rachel had n ever expected to see matchless used as part of a peacetime NASA mission. Then again, Administrator Ekstroms O.K.ground was the Pentagon, so he certainly had access to toys like this. From the stern faces on the two armed guards watching over the PSC, Rachel got the distinct impression that contact with the outside world was made only with express agree from Administrator Ekstrom.Looks like Im not the only one who is off-the-grid.Ekstrom spoke briefly 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 door, 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 computer monitor, Rachel could make out racks of telephone gear, radios, and satellite telecommunications devices. She al selecty felt claustrophobic. The air inside was bitter, like a basement in winter.Sit here, please, Ms. Sexton. The technician produced a rolling stool and couched Rachel in front of a flat-screen monitor. He arranged a microphone in front of her and placed a bulky pair of AKG headphones on her head. Checking a logbook of encoding passwords, the technician typed a long series of keys on a nearby device. A timer materialized on the screen in front of Rachel. 0060 SECONDSThe technician gave a fulfil 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 first 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 truly 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 issue to blow up in his face.Within hours, Americans would feel the thrill of a NASA triumph all over again. There would be teary-eyed dreamers. Slack-jawed scientists. Childrens imaginations running free. Issues of dollars and cents would go through external as petty, overshadowed by this monumental 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 issue small-minded, a penny-pinching Scrooge 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 hall seal materialized on-screen. After 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 evoke afternoon?29The office of Senator Sedgewick Sexton was located in the Philip A. Hart Senate Office 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 p aced 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 inscrutable informant was a White House insider, and whoever it was had become Gabrielles source for all kinds of valuable political information recently, including the news of a covert brooking surrounded by 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 consistently accurate and helpful-classified information on NASA overexpenditures, costly approaching missions, data showing that NASAs search for extraterrestrial life was grossly overfunded and patheticall y unproductive, even internal opinion polls warning that NASA was the issue turning voters away from the President.To enhance 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 stop pacing and looked again at the newly arrived message. The connotations of all the e-mails were clear Someone inside the White House wanted Senator Sexton to win this election and was dowry 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 crotchety for a White House employee, fearing his President was about to be ousted from office, t o 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 location 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 suffice via e-mail her messages were always bounced back as undeliverable. Her correspondents account was anonymous. Not surprising.