[The Fear Saga 01] - Fear the Sky (2014) (17 page)

“I agree,” said Lana, “and, yet, I feel we didn’t go far enough. What about the other signals sent prior to destruction, the report you have already provided showed an encrypted radio signal from the ship that could not be deciphered. Who received this message?”

Jean-Paul Merard, from France, interjected, “That must be the receiver, we should eliminate anyone who listened to that signal as well.”

“My sentiments exactly.” piped in Lana.

Preeti Parikh spoke, “I was closest to the incident, so I was able to go and intercept the other two humans in person when they were returning via Delhi, per my report. I monitored their conversation for several hours, they mentioned nothing of the ship, or its findings, during private conversations during this time, and, as I said, I watched them for quite some time.”

She seemed to finish, then added, “Of course, I’m not saying that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t play it safe here.” She was certainly not going to be the only one who cautioned inaction, even if it was, in fact, her sense that this was the right way to go.

“Why is this even being discussed?” said Lana, Jean-Paul nodding his agreement, “There is no reason to risk this. Kill them.”

Lana visibly tensed at this. Effectively oblivious, the AI went on:

“Worse? How?” said Mikhail Kovalenko, “Surely they are more likely to suspect the Indian government of the deaths than us?”

The penny dropped, for most, but others were less easy to deter, “Based on the political sensitivity of the effectively impotent ‘NATO group,’ they would never react so strongly to the loss of a few lowly scientists.” said Lana, derisively.

John Hunt, speaking from his naval posting in Portsmouth in the UK, decided to speak, “Do not think that the people of Earth are so willing to … disregard the lives of their citizens just because they are not actually part of the leadership. The same political sensitivity that restrains the ‘Western’ countries from bold action on the international stage also drives them to protect, with vigor, even the most irrelevant of their people.”

The English Agent went on, “I am not implying anything so outrageous as a simple incident like this sparking nuclear war. But whether that event is likely or not, we should not underestimate America’s reaction if they believe members of their White House staff are being killed by a foreign power, not to mention an entire crew of navy seals and sailors.”

Lana’s avatar stared at him for a moment, their virtual constructs showing all the facial expressions of their copied personalities, a healthy dose of reciprocal disdain most prominent amongst them. But then she nodded, “Hunt is correct, they protect even the most negligible of their citizens because of their sad delusion of democracy.” she almost spat the words, “I can only imagine how they would react if they suspected someone actually important had been assassinated.

“That said,” she continued, “if either of the two remaining humans utters even the slightest suspicion of the truth behind the incident in India, it remains imperative that we eliminate them immediately. We will deal with any consequences, as appropriate, afterwards. Do I have quorum on that, at least?”

The group nodded, one after the other, her eyes meeting theirs until they came to rest on John Hunt’s. “Of course.” he nodded, acquiescing to the obvious majority with a virtual smile.

Sensing with machine accuracy the rooms’ satisfaction with the topic, the AI moved on.

* * *

That initial part of the Council had taken just over 0.73 seconds in real-time. Lengthy debate followed afterward about the best assignments the British, Russian, and French Agents should seek in order to best position themselves for their respective missions.

After a further full second and a half the meeting was closed, a series of action items having been determined both for the AI, and for several of the Agents.

As Lieutenant Second Class Kovalenko returned from his apparently momentary lapse in concentration to his meeting with Captain Gorovchev, he looked to his superior, who was frowning at him with obvious impatience.

“You must forgive me, sir, I have not quite gotten used to all the trees here in the south, my allergies give me much dismay.” he said, bowing to the captain’s stern stare.

“Of course, Lieutenant Kovalenko. I imagine it would no doubt be funny to our soft Western European friends to hear an officer complain of coming
south
to Moscow, especially an officer as … capable as you.” The captain said it almost as an insult, such was his disdain for giving actual compliments. But the lieutenant’s abilities could not be denied, especially within the area of intelligence.

“Anyway, enough of this chitchat. Where was I, Lieutenant?”

“I believe we were discussing potential assignments, Captain. You were extolling me on the very great importance of discipline, especially if I were to pursue a career in the Strategic Command Force.”

“Yes, yes, Lieutenant, and very important it is. Normally I am very hesitant to use one of my few annual nominations to the SCF recruitment list. But in your case I believe you may be worthy of such an honor. I was a member of the StratCom myself; back when it really meant something.”

The captain could not know that the lieutenant, via the AI’s research, had accessed the captain’s military record, including as much of the classified sections as were easily reached. So he could not know that the lieutenant was aware of the captain’s five applications to the SCF, all unsuccessful, back in the Cold War when it had, indeed, been a much more elite force than it was today.

“Yes, Lieutenant, you may well be of SCF’s standards, though I doubt you would have made it into the Old Strategic Command.” said the captain proudly, the lieutenant nodding subserviently, making sure his face and deep black eyes betrayed none of his contempt for the pompous fool in front of him.

“Come in, come in.” said Admiral Hamilton. “Coffee?”

Neal and Madeline nodded emphatically. They had not slept in a bed since leaving the guest house in Kodikkarai, two days ago, and the admiral had been so keen to see them that they had been brought straight to the Pentagon from the airport.

Neal had asked that they be allowed to check into their hotels and freshen up, a sentiment that Madeline had echoed, but the driver had insisted that he was under strict orders to bring them directly to the admiral.

“Hey, I guess you two haven’t slept, sorry. Lieutenant Martin should have let you check-in first so that you could freshen up.” said the admiral. Neal felt certain that the lieutenant had been ordered to do no such thing; no doubt the admiral wanted them a little off guard so he could get the most information out of them.

Either way, they had both discussed at length how much they should tell the admiral, and their stories were well set as they gratefully accepted their coffees from the admiral’s secretary.

“Now, maybe you could just answer a few questions and I’ll let you head to the hotel, I’m sure you are both very tired.”

They nodded at him. “Sure.” said Madeline, and they both sipped their coffees.

The admiral looked at them. He did not like what he saw. They were clearly both tired, and more than a little unkempt. Neal in particular did not smell too fresh, and his thinning hair had gone a bit primal. But it was more that. They both seemed a little too … resolved.

“Neal, maybe you can start? I’m sure this is very difficult for you both, but why don’t you start from how you both came to be in India in the first place. I assure you there will be no recriminations, at this point that would be … moot, but we want to know why you were both there, against the orders both Captain Hawkson and Dr. West received.”

The two sleepy conspirators flinched at hearing the names, but Neal leaned forwards, glancing at Madeline quickly before saying: “Admiral, I am sure Laurie wouldn’t mind me telling you, given how things turned out, that she divulged to me that she’d originally recommended I be allowed on board the
King’s Transom
in her place.”

The admiral remained steely faced at this violation of the military secrecy, and did not interrupt Neal, who, after a deep breath, went on, “I won’t deny that there is a part of me that is happy the request was denied, but there was a reason for her recommendation. I, along with James and Madeline, here, were simply the best qualified to configure the machine.

“While we all knew that your orders prohibited our being on board when she sailed, Madeline and I helped with the set up beforehand, and then stayed ashore to answer questions via radio after she left.”

“By radio?” the admiral exclaimed, “You exchanged classified information over the radio?”

“No, Admiral, not exactly. James … Captain Hawkson … was just as keenly aware of the need for discretion as anyone, so he brought along a matched set of Secure Field Radios for us to communicate with. You see, he and Laurie may have brought us along against your orders, but only because we had already worked on the probe, and knew full well what it was for. The ‘SurFeRs’ are, I believe, theoretically unhackable …”

“Yes, thank you, Neal, I know the capabilities of the device in question.” The admiral smiled slightly. He had to credit James with his thoroughness, even when he was disobeying orders he never forgot the intent behind them. “OK, Neal, so it seems you were in contact with the ship. Then maybe you can shed some more light as to what happened?”

Neal shook his head, staring at his cup in obvious discomfort, before replying quietly but earnestly, “Admiral, I only wish could. I am afraid when we last spoke with them everything was fine on board. I am sad to say we closed radio contact at around 2am, some two hours before …
it
apparently happened.”

Neal looked at Madeline, then reached out and squeezed her hand as he said the next part. “The next time we had any information about the
King’s Transom
was when the Indian authorities found us.”

“I see,” said the admiral, quietly. Then, treading lightly, he probed further, “Then, perhaps you might have some information on what the results of the search were up until the … incident?”

Neal paused a moment, and Madeline, not willing to let him bear this burden alone, spoke in his place. “We talked at length about the search the previous days, but not that night.”

She sat up straight and seemed to gather herself, then continued, “Neal is being kind, Admiral, and more of a gentleman than, well, you’d expect.” She shot a smile at Neal and he nodded, surprised, but, he couldn’t deny, relieved that she had interrupted him.

“You see,” she continued, “he wasn’t on that final call, it was just James and I. It was late … and the call was … personal in nature.”

She fixed the admiral with a powerful stare, her fatigue forgotten, her grief driving her forwards. Neal looked at her, astonished at her resolve. It had been Madeline who had come up with the cover story. He had fought her on it, but she had been as resolute then as she was being now, and he was mute with admiration for her.

The admiral and Madeline looked at each other for a moment, sizing each other up. Finally the admiral nodded, a look on his face as close to sympathy as you might hope to see on an officer dealing with blatant violations of orders and more than a few encroachments on the official secrets act. He made a note on his paper then looked back at Neal.

“I have to ask this, do you have any theories as to how this tragedy may have come about?”

Neal thought a moment. Madeline and he had debated at length whether to tell the admiral their true suspicions, but had decided that the chance that the staunch military man would pass them on was too great. That said, they had also decided that he was not a stupid or incapable man, in fact, Laurie had often referred to the admiral as an ally of hers in Washington, so they would try not to say anything that would burn their bridges with him, either.

Finally Neal went on, staring very deliberately into Admiral Hamilton’s eyes. “Admiral, I cannot stress enough that we have no information that would allow us to make any conclusions about what caused the
King’s Transom
to go down.

“However,” Neal paused a moment to emphasize the next point, “nor am I able to eliminate any possibilities at this time.”

The admiral stared at him. Through his own conversations with Neal, and through the candid and emphatic recommendations of both Dr. West, Colonel Milton back at the Array, and his normally unfazed colleague General Pickler, Admiral Hamilton had concluded that Neal’s was an intellect not to be underestimated.

Long experience had also taught him that sometimes the question you didn’t ask was what differentiated a thorough interviewer from a truly capable one.

He nodded, notably not writing anything on his pad of what he thought the scientist’s comments meant. Then, suddenly, he got to his feet.

“Well, I think that is enough for today.” They both stared at him in surprise as he rose and came around the desk. Then they stole a glance at each other as if to say: ‘is it really that easy?’ shrugged, and returned their confused stares to the surprisingly enigmatic admiral.