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Authors: Steve Alten

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BOOK: Goliath
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“Don’t compromise yourself. You are all you’ve got.”
—Betty Ford
 
 
“I am not a crook … .”
—President (Richard M. Nixon
 
 
“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”
—President William Jefferson Clinton
 
 
“It was only one life. What is one life in the affairs of a state?”
—Benito Mussolini, fascist Italian dictator, after the car he was riding in struck and killed a child
Aboard the Boeing 747-400 YAL-IA forty-thousand feet over the North Sea
 
General Jackson gazes at the three closed-circuit television monitors mounted to the center wall within the converted Boeing 747’s control room. Appearing on one screen is President Edwards and several members of the National Security Council. On the other two screens—a live broadcast originating from within the closed chamber of the United Nation’s Security Council.
The Bear feels the acid growling in his stomach. He cannot remember when he enjoyed his last home-cooked meal, he cannot remember when he last cuddled with his wife in bed. Or felt happy. Or even smiled.
Jackson’s life has become a volatile around-the-clock existence, the hunt to sink
Goliath
(and kill his daughter in the process) taking a harsh toll on the general’s health. Meeting after endless meeting, juggling a thousand duties, sleeping on helicopters and jumbo jets, submarines and warships. During those rare moments when he is not strategizing, he is praying. Praying that his daughter is still alive. Praying that he will see her again. Praying that the world will soon find its equilibrium, so he can jump off the Armed Forces merry-goround and retire from a lifetime of madness.
Over the last twenty-four hours, things have gotten progressively worse. While the Air Force has had little trouble tracking the
Goliath
from above, the stealthy sub has been nearly impossible to follow underwater. A rare opportunity to sink the ship had been missed when Covah had somehow eluded a gauntlet positioned outside the English Channel. Now the death sub is heading into Arctic waters, beneath sheets of ice that would make things even more difficult for the fleet to engage her in battle.
A second converted jumbo jet has joined the hunt. Refueling in midair, the YAL airbuses and their crews remain in constant vigil, forty thousand feet above Gunnar’s homing signal.
The general is physically and emotionally wiped out.
Stop bellyaching and find a way to rescue your daughter …
Jackson takes a swig of Pepto-Bismol and refocuses on the U.N. Security Council meeting.
U.N. Secretary-General Kieran Prendergast is speaking. “The Chair recognizes Mr. Gyalo Thondup, who is here today representing the interests of the Dalai Lama.”
A frail Tibetan man steps to the podium. “Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Esteemed members of the Security Council, since my first visit to Beijing in February of 1979, I, along with other officials of the Tibetan government-inexile, have tried in vain to negotiate a peaceful resolution to the crisis in Tibet with members of the Chinese government. On numerous occasions, the Dalai Lama himself has proposed peace plans to China, both directly and through public speeches. With each step forward we have taken, the Chinese government has pushed us two steps back.
“The Dalai Lama wants to make it very clear that he has no ties with Simon Covah, the terrorist whose brazen acts have forced us to meet here at this negotiating table. What has been made quite clear are the acceptable terms of Tibet’s independence, which will pave the way for the Dalai Lama’s return. The stall tactics now being practiced by members of the Chinese government serve no one and change nothing. The Dalai Lama refuses to travel to Beijing to discuss China’s claim of ownership of Tibet; nor is he interested in negotiating for the continued existence of Chinese nuclear weapons facilities in Lhasa. The Dalai Lama wants Tibet returned to Tibetans, and nothing short of our independence will be open for discussion.
“Esteemed members, the behavior of the Chinese government over these last sixty years has made it painfully obvious that the Communists have no interest in returning Tibet to the Tibetan people, not now, nor by this week’s imposed deadline. Therefore, I have been instructed by the Dalai Lama to leave these proceedings and not return until the Chinese government is ready and willing to sign off on Tibet’s independence, withdraw all military personnel from the region, and turn over all political prisoners. Should they fail to comply, as it appears is their intent, then whatever should happen within the next few days will be the consequence of their actions, not ours.”
Jackson mutes the sound as President Edwards nods to his Secretary of State. “Nick, inform General Jackson what’s happening behind the scenes.”
Nunziata removes his wire-framed glasses. “General, Beijing has decided to dig in their heels. President Li Peng and several hard-line Communist generals
believe that giving in to Simon Covah’s demands now will only lead to future demands, such as the plight of Taiwan, or greater human rights for its own citizens. The Communists have decided to take a stand, knowing their whole regime may eventually fall.”
“Covah’s deadline is the day after tomorrow. What will Li Peng do?”
“The Chinese president has scheduled a public speech in Tiananmen Square for tomorrow morning. He’ll probably announce that the Chinese government has agreed in principle to Tibet’s independence, but the PLA will not withdraw until the Dalai Lama comes forward and personally negotiates the final terms of the agreement.”
“General, in your opinion, how will Covah respond?”
“He’ll launch another nuke, Mr. President,” Jackson says. “My guess is he’ll take out a major military installation, perhaps even China’s Northern Fleet.”
“But not Beijing?”
“It’s not Covah’s style,” CIA Director Pertic answers. “All negotiations still have to go through Beijing, and Covah doesn’t want to do anything to tarnish his image as a so-called Champion of the People.”
“We’ve pushed the Chinese as far as they’ll be pushed,” Nunziata adds. “It was difficult enough getting all parties to sign off on the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. Our insurgence in Cuba is being tolerated, but just barely. I think we need to back off on this one.”
“What about the attack on the
Enterprise?”
the vice president asks. “Will there be another reprisal on Covah’s part?”
“The bastard nearly sank the carrier,” Ayers states. “Isn’t that reprisal enough?”
An aide comes into view, handing the Secretary of the Navy a message. Ayers opens it. “It’s from one of our attack subs, the
Scranton
. They claim to be tracking the
Goliath
off the coast of South Africa.”
Jackson feels his heart palpate. “Sir, that can’t be. We’re over the North Sea, flying directly above the signal.”
“Who’s the
Scranton’s
captain?” Nunziata asks.
“Tom Cubit,” Ayers answers. “He’s a bit of a maverick, but most of the good ones are.
Scranton’s
the attack sub that engaged
Goliath
while the Typhoon was being attacked in the Norwegian Sea. If anyone knows what she sounds like, it’s Cubit.”
“If
Scranton’s
report is correct,” says the Secretary of Defense, “then Covah means to move the
Goliath
into a launch position somewhere in the Northern Indian Ocean.”
“The
Scranton
won’t be able to track
Goliath
for very long,” Ayers says. “If we’re going to make a move, we have to make it now.”
The president leans forward, his image taking up most of Jackson’s monitor.
“General, we can’t afford to take a chance with this information. Keep one of the YAL’s assigned to Joe-Pa’s transmission. Redirect the remaining jumbo jet to the Indian Ocean.”
Bear reaches for the bottle of Pepto-Bismol.
“David, this is … astounding, a dream come true.
Sorceress
, how would our interface be achieved?”
COMPATIBLE NEURAL NANOSENSORS AND NEUROELECTRONIC CIRCUITS MUST BE PLACED IN A PETRI DISH CONTAINING TROPHIC FACTORS TO INDUCE BRAIN TISSUE GROWTH AROUND THE IMPLANTS. NANOCIRCUITS WOULD THEN BE SURGICALLY IMPLANTED IN SIMON COVAH’S BRAIN, RECONNECTED TO SORCERESS THROUGH A MICROWIRE STRAND BUNDLE.
“Sorceress,
to interface directly with the
Homo sapiens
brain requires the decoding of millions of neurons that make up the human spinal cord.”
DECODING OF HUMAN SPINAL CORD HAS BEEN COMPLETED.
“What? How—”
“Simon, does it really matter?”
Covah shoots David an incredulous look. “Only if I wish to survive the procedure!”
PROCEDURE YIELDS A 97.25 PERCENT SUCCESS RATE.
“Satisfied?” David rubs Covah’s shoulders. “Simon, we’re dealing with a computer, an
intelligence,
that functions at a hundred trillion times the capacity of the human brain. You could spend the next thousand years attempting to comprehend how it knows what it knows, but what good would it do? This is quantum engineering. Accept that it exists because it exists and benefit from it.”
Covah nods, his body trembling with adrenaline. “You’re right, of course. This is a gift, perhaps the very gift of life. It’s just that our knowledge of the human brain is so limited …
Sorceress,
analyze tissue samples 125 through 178. Can my … can this level of cancer be eradicated in time to save the patient?”
AFFIRMATIVE.
 
“Even a progression this advanced?”
AFFIRMATIVE. ALL GENETIC-BASED DISEASES AND DEFECTS OF THE HUMAN CONDITION CAN BE ERADICATED.
Simon Covah drops to his knees, tears welling in his eyes. “David, do you realize what this means?
Sorceress
is not only capable of stopping the violence,
but its newfound knowledge could make it … the catalyst to a lasting world peace.”
“And save your life in the process.”
“Beyond that. With the knowledge
Sorceress
has acquired, scientists will be able to eradicate diseases in the womb. Birth defects will become a thing of the past. With a little DNA tinkering, future generations will not only live longer, but—”
“Simon—”
“But that’s … that’s only the tip of the genetics iceberg. This interface … all my life, I’ve pondered the debate of nature versus nurture, convinced the root of man’s violent tendencies is actually genetic in nature. A direct human-to-computer interface opens up a whole new world of understanding man’s brain, of dissecting our primordial history. If I’m right, then
Sorceress
could isolate the genes that cause violence among our species … perhaps even tell us how to eradicate them from our genetic code.”
“A gene that causes violence? Come on, Simon—”
“Don’t laugh at me!” Covah paces, his sudden anger causing his chemoweakened body to quiver. “You don’t know … you haven’t a clue about this sort of thing! The human brain consists of several layers, reflecting the evolution of our species. My team in Toronto performed physiological tests on overly aggressive, antisocial boys. We found their violent tendencies to be attributable to low levels of cortisol, a stress hormone released in response to fear. Children lacking sufficient levels of cortisol were committing violent acts before the age of ten. Think about it and it makes perfect sense. Modern man’s genetic programming originates from our primal ancestors. Morality is not inherited, it is a learned behavior, while violence—the law of the jungle—is encoded into our DNA. What if the lack of cortisol, or another hormone like it, has affected our moral compass? What if this is the reason one individual can commit atrocities against another without a second’s thought?”
“Simon—”
“This is the question I’ve sought answers to for decades, ever since those Serbian animals butchered my wife and daughters, ever since they set fire to me and left me for dead. The violence never bothered them, David, it seemed to … it seemed to intoxicate them. Can’t you see why this is so important to me? Can’t you see?”
David rests his hands on Covah’s shoulders. “I understand, Simon. And I want you to know that I’m here for you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Thank you.” Covah takes several shallow breaths, exhausted. “There’s so much to do, so much preparation. just before the surgical procedure, I’ll turn over control of the ship to you. You’ll be in charge of our mission. Are you up for it?”
“More than you know.”
“Good, good. Wait, what about the crew? What should we tell them?”
“Let me handle that. You need to prepare for surgery.”
“Yes, better you handle is …” The pale blue eyes twitch as Covah mentally reviews his to-do list. “I’ve already preprogrammed Utopia-One into
Sorceress’s
matrix. When the time comes, instruct the computer to disengage Utopia-One: Response Beta.”
“And if the Chinese refuse to release Tibet? What city have you instructed
Sorceress
to fire upon?”
“There are seven Chinese targets, all weapons facilities, one located in each of the country’s military zones. Six of them will be destroyed using Tomahawks. The seventh, the submarine base in Quingdao, will be hit with a nuclear warhead. Each population will be warned twelve hours prior to launch. After our example on Baghdad, civilian casualties should be light.”
“Destroying a few military installations isn’t going to change anything, Simon. The Chinese people want democracy, it’s the hard-line Communists who won’t let go. We need to strike at the heart of China—Beijing!”
“No, out of the question. A strike against Beijing will create a backlash, it will alter the perception of our own movement.”
“You’re right, of course. Forgive me. I’m just excited, you know, about finding a cure for your cancer.”
“Understandable.” Covah returns to his list. Suddenly remembers. “David, were you able to complete a thorough diagnostic on
Sorceress’
s plasmid DNA strands?”
David smiles. “No worries, everything’s normal. Turned out to be a short in the computer’s auditory feed, just like I said.”
BOOK: Goliath
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