The Einstein Papers (43 page)

“A car followed me up the driveway,” the courier said. “My partner is questioning the driver.”

Taft glanced at the mini-van parked farther down the drive. “That’s my partner, Agent Martinez. He’s one of us.”

Martinez must have already shown his badge because he was climbing from his van. Taft slipped the disk into the silver metal pouch the courier held and sealed the opening. Signing his name across the strip, he handed it back.

“Thanks, it goes to Benson,” Taft said. “Do you or your partner want a soft drink or something?”

“No sir,” the courier said, “we need to get back to the office.”

Tucking the pouch under his arm, the courier nodded as he passed Martinez walking up the drive. Then he slipped into the driver’s seat of the NIA sedan as his partner climbed into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. Placing the sedan into drive he steered his way down the driveway.

“So,” the partner said, “what’s the legendary John Taft like?”

“He offered us a soda,” the courier said.

“You mean you finally get to meet your hero and all he does is offer you a soft drink?”

“What did you expect he’d do,” the courier said, “pull a rabbit out of a hat?”

“Something like that,” the partner said slowly.

On the back deck of his home in Maryland, John Taft propped his feet up on a table and glanced over at Larry Martinez.

“I need to get away for a few days,” Taft said quietly. “Kristin and I are going to take a cruise on Tango.”

“Feeling blue?” Martinez asked.

“Tired of getting shot,” Taft said. Tired of feeling like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

“Somebody has to do it,” Martinez said.

Taft nodded wearily. “The latest word is that China lost half of its fleet.”

“How are Benson and Scaramelli?” Martinez asked.

“The Taiwanese cruiser they were on received little of the storm, they’re fine,” Taft noted. “Benson is briefing the president as we speak.”

“Good thing the storm moved west as planned,” Martinez said as he brushed a fly from his neck.

“I forget how Choi explained it,” Taft said easily, “but the magnetic belts on the earth run a certain way, and they were pretty sure that would be the way the storm moved.”

“What’s the latest on Choi?” Martinez asked.

“Apparently his citizenship papers are forthcoming-he plans to work at the Advanced Physics Lab in Boulder.”

“I guess it’s over,” Martinez said.

“For now.”

“Do you ever think physicists will be able to control Einstein’s theory so it can be used for good?” Martinez asked.

“Who knows,” Taft said. “Whatever happens, we won’t know about it. They slapped a circle of secrecy around this entire affair-the tightest I’ve ever seen.”

“I know,” Martinez said, “they came by my office yesterday and shredded all my reports and notes.”

Taft stood up from his chair. He stared into the distance to the river running past.

“I found something inside the Windforce I didn’t tell you about when we were in Boston,” he said quietly.

“What?” Martinez asked.

“It was a chart of the stars,” Taft said easily.

“Einstein must have liked to view the heavens at night,” Martinez said, smiling. “Nothing unusual about that.”

“You’re probably right,” Taft said quietly. “I kept the map. I never included it in any of my reports, so no one knows it exists. I just wanted to have something here that Einstein had touched.”

“You know Benson will suspend you if he finds out,” Martinez said. “He’d have to.”

“Then I guess it will be our little secret,” Taft said, rising.

“Where are you going?” Martinez asked.

“Come on into my office,” Taft said as he opened the back door, then paused. “There’s something written on the edge of the star chart. It looks like five letters.”

Martinez rose from his seat and began to follow Taft. “Can you make out any of the letters?” he asked.

“The first three look like T,E,S, then something, and maybe an A,” Taft said as Martinez followed him inside.

“I wonder what it means?” Martinez asked.

“I have no earthly idea,” Taft said as he entered the office and handed Martinez the chart, “but I thought you could play around with it while I’m gone.”

Martinez nodded. “Keep your cell phone with you. I’ll call you if I find anything interesting.”

“Don’t you always?” Taft said as he led Martinez to the front door.

CRAIG DIRGO is the coauthor, with Clive Cussler, of the #1 New York Times bestselling nonfiction adventure The Sea Hunters, as well as the bestselling Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt Revealed. Dirgo is an active member within Clive Cussler’s National Underwater & Marine Agency (NUMA), a nonprofit organization that searches for historic shipwrecks. He lives in Hollywood, Florida. This is his first novel.