The War of Immensities (75 page)

“Her loss to us
is immeasurable,” Lorna Simmons said. “No one will be able to
replace her.”

Wendell
continued to face Thyssen’s bowed head, and finally Thyssen did
raise his eyes to meet the challenge.

“Tell me it was
worth it, Thyssen. Tell me she died for some good reason.”

Thyssen’s
tormented face could barely contain its pain, but when he spoke it
was level and sure. “She saved more than a million lives. And
millions more are in grave danger because she is dead. But she’s
given us a chance to save them too.”

Wendell
Campbell stepped back a pace. It was his turn to bow his head. But
then he extended his hand.

“Don’t blame
yourself, Professor,” he said. “She was always sure of what she was
doing.”

And they
grasped cold hands on that wintry Wellington day, for only an
instant, then Wendell turned and walked back to his stricken
children.

At Auckland
airport, they parted company. As they waited in the terminal for
their respective flights, they spoke in muted terms of Felicity
Campbell. Each of them shed a tear. Each of them hugged the others,
even Wagner. Even Thyssen, who looked grey and drawn. Lorna stayed
close. Professor Earthshaker was plainly beginning to show the
strain.

Thyssen and
Lorna would join a flight to Hawaii, where Lorna would remain to do
what she could to prepare the islanders for the next event. Thyssen
would return to Washington where President Grayson had called an
emergency meeting to discuss the crisis.

“It said on the
news that they’ve already started the meeting without you, Harley,”
Brian informed him unnecessarily.

“There’s
nothing I can tell them,” Thyssen said. “They don’t need me any
more.”

“But can we
trust those bastards. Glen and that NCA freak.”

“Joe is there.
He’s in charge of that stuff now. It’s politics from here on, and
the less I have to do with it, the better it will be for
everyone.”

This they also
knew from the media. Joe Solomon had made what might have been the
most meteoric rise in the history of American politics—one day an
unemployed lawyer facing all manner of charges before a Senate
inquiry; the next day they were facing him as he addressed them in
the Senate, as the official Project Earthshaker adviser on the
logistics and budgeting of the crisis.

Andromeda would
return to her pilgrims, and lead them across the Congo.

“I’ve done the
recalculation on the assumption that I’m right and the singularity
has been deflected from its original course. The original
anticipated location of the event after next was the Caribbean but
the degree of deflection models out to a point in northern Nigeria,
and hopefully you and your gang will be there, Andromeda.”

“We’ll be
there, Harley.”

Brian was
heading for Melbourne to visit his children, and then fly on to
Broome and take over organising the pilgrims from Indonesia, about
half of which were now held in a huge camp on the north west
Australian coast.

“Are you really
just going to hand it all over to them bastards?” Brian still
wondered.

“No,” Thyssen
smiled. “It’s you people who are really in control now. They can’t
do anything without you and they know it. And they don’t have time
to consider alternatives.”

Wagner would
fly to Israel to try and do what could be done to assist the
trapped pilgrims in Iran.

“There’s
nothing much we can do in Hawaii,” Thyssen had pointed out.“And not
enough time anyway. The hit after will be in Africa and that will
be our last best chance.”

“You tell me
where and I’ll clear the space,” Wagner grinned.

“You may have a
lot of unwanted assistance from the US Army and other such
forces.”

“I never fight
battles before I come to them, Harley,” Wagner said. “That’s why I
always win.”

So they parted
for what they knew might well be the last time. They were three
less than when they last met—who knew how many fewer they would be
if they ever met again. They wished each other good luck and
parted.

Lorna sat with
Harley all the way to Honolulu, flying backwards through the night
into the day before. And with the dawn, Lorna ordered breakfast but
Thyssen refused to eat. He looked exhausted even though he had
snored loudly all the way.

Then he did an
odd thing. He lifted his hand from the arm rest and stared at it in
puzzlement for a moment. A sort of ironic smile passed over his
lips, he gave a brief snort of amusement and closed his eyes and
went back to sleep.

As they began
descent, she tried to wake him and could not. His breathing was
shallow, his skin grey. She called for help. There was a doctor on
the flight who was brought by the flight attendant to make an
examination.

“This man is
very ill,” he said. “He will need to be hospitalised as soon as we
land. Have the paramedics standing by with a defibrillator.”

“It’s a heart
attack?” Lorna asked incredulously.

“I think so,
yes,” the doctor said. “Does he have a history of heart
trouble.”

“Not at
all.”

“Well I’m
afraid he does now.”

But Lorna knew
the truth. Harley’s heart had not weakened—it had been broken by
the terrible deaths of three remarkable women.

Joe Solomon
watched as Glen Palenski made is way on creaking shoes around
behind the seated men and women to whisper in the ear of John
Cornelius. The sense of revulsion at the sighting of the young man
who had betrayed them was quickly dissipated when he saw the look
that passed over the NSA man’s face.

Everyone
present saw that look and General Marsden, who was droning on about
the readiness of the military at the time even faltered and
paused.

President
Grayson saw it too, and needed only to raise his hand to halt the
general completely, and he directed a questioning look at
Cornelius, who flinched.

Cornelius sat
forward in his armchair, gripping the obviously terrified Palenski
by the wrist to keep him in place, and said quietly. “Mr.
President, we have just received word that Professor Thyssen will
not be joining us. He has suffered a heart attack and is presently
under intensive care in Honolulu.”

The words
crashed about the room like a thunderclap. Joe felt physical pain
in his abdomen and the skin on his face and ears seemed to
spontaneously combust. Yet he knew it was coming.

Each time he
had seen Thyssen, the man looked older, the stress deepening the
lines on his face and turning his skin a frightening grey colour.
Lately he seemed to be sweating, almost all the time. And who could
doubt the enormous weight he carried upon his shoulders, like
Atlas, holding up the entire world and weakening under the
strain.

He was what,
sixty maybe? No one seemed to know really. He was a big man,
fleshy, who abused his health continually. Add to that the massive
strain of the situation and the disaster was a certainty. Only a
powerful sense of immortality seemed to keep him going.

Logical as that
all sounded, Joe tried to imagine a felled Harley, broken and
beaten and ill, and the image would not come. Harley was a giant,
indestructible, his will prodigious, his manner godlike. For all
its inevitability, it was an impossible idea to come to grips
with.

It was the
second day of the conference and they were gathered in armchairs
about the fireplace in the Oval Office. Joe was the only member of
the Earthshaker group available and had been pulled in at the last
minute when it was discovered Thyssen would be delayed by
Felicity’s funeral. When he had entered, President Grayson had
looked at Joe and asked. “I take it then that Professor Thyssen
will not be honouring us with his presence today either.”

The funeral had
been the day before. Thyssen could have been there by then, had he
wanted.

“I have no
information, sir,” Joe had answered, as he had the day before.

The president
walked away, shaking his head and saying. “That man. That man.”

Now Joe saw the
same lines of stress in the face of Eugene Grayson, and the eyes
forlorn, the lower lip trembling slightly from the shock of the
news. “What is the prognosis, John?” he asked quietly.

“Not good. His
condition is critical.”

Grayson gave
out a massive sigh, and sat back in his armchair, looking around
each of the faces present. “Well, we’ve managed so far without him.
But is there any sense in continuing?”

Cornelius
leaned forward to tap the lap-top computer on the table before him.
“We have all of his data here.”

“Data is data.
But who can argue his case?” And he looked directly at Joe.

Joe, who had
been rarely called upon to speak, found the effort enormous in
these powerful circumstances. “If Harley wanted his case argued, he
would be here arguing it.”

“He seems to be
in no position to do so, by no choosing of his own,” Grayson said
reasonably.

“He went to New
Zealand as a personal priority rather than attending these
discussions,” Joe persisted.

Do not
contradict the president, advisers had warned him. The fierce glare
in the eyes of Eugene Grayson emphasised the error—those eyes then
dismissed Joe and redirected that gaze upon Cornelius, who spoke
with comfortable ease. “I believe, Mr. President, that the absence
of Professor Thyssen is intentional, and constitutes a demand that
his conclusions be accepted as a fait accompli, without
compromise.”

Grayson wobbled
his head as he thought about that. “Yes, I think that is a
reasonable conclusion. But even if he is right, although we have
the data, how are we to interpret it?”

Joe, knowing in
part he wished to make amends for his error, now committed the
worse sin of interjecting. “It has already been interpreted, by
your own people. Isn’t that so, John?”

“But there was
error...” Cornelius muttered.

“Which has been
explained and can be compensated for,” Joe argued.

“So you say,”
Cornelius came back. “Other more reliable and more reputable
scientists, with other systems, are now making equally accurate
predictions. Several of them predicted the region in Brazil almost
as accurately as Thyssen’s system.”

“Almost...”

Grayson’s
powerful voice imposed itself over them easily. “Gentlemen, let us
not argue. I think it is obvious that we need someone to present
Professor Thyssen’s position at these talks. The only question is,
who?”

Joe, who had
only argumentativeness in him, silence himself with some
effort.

But Cornelius,
a well trained operator, could speak calmly. “If I may be so bold,
sir. We have here Dr Glen Palenski, who was for a long time
Thyssen’s best regarded student. I doubt that there is anyone
better equipped to express the Professor’s views than he is.”

The look of
combined terror and astonishment on Glen Palenski’s face brought
smiles all around the room. Plainly, had Cornelius still not
gripped his wrist, he would have bolted for the door.

The President’s
hooded eyebrows lurched toward Joe. “Your thoughts on this, Mr.
Solomon?”

Joe supposed
the expression of horror on his own face matched that on Glen’s.
“It is true that Dr Palenski is the only surviving member of the
Earthshaker team who is a trained scientist,” Joe heard himself say
to his own complete amazement.

“But I sold
them out !” wild-eyed Glen Palenski blurted frantically.

“Judas,” Joe
countered, “was the disciple who loved Christ most.”

Every head in
the room was in its hands. Some were hiding mirth, some horror,
some embarrassment, but all were hiding something. But, because he
was President of the United States of America, Eugene Grayson
regathered his wits first. He gazed long and hard at the trembling
young man across the room, who might have been handcuffed to John
Cornelius, so firmly was he gripped. “Dr Palenski, do you believe
that Professor Thyssen is right?”

Glen calmed at
the question. It was plainly one that was easy to answer. “Yes,
sir. I always did. We differed only on matters of loyalty to the
state—never on matters concerning Earthshaker.”

“And are you
willing to present his side of the discussion?”

“Yes sir. I
sold him out once. It was a big mistake. I won’t do it again.”

“Mr. Palenski,
I must ask you to confine your statements to those scientific
matters in which you are expert.”

“Yes sir.
Professor Thyssen is right. He was always right. And I can prove
it.”

“Can you now?
Then please, do so.”

“Harley
believed that the pilgrims deflected and weakened the singularity.
Calculations based on his assumptions place the next event in the
Pacific Ocean near Hawaii. No one else could arrive at that
conclusion without making his assumptions. Therefore, since there
will be no pilgrims in the Zone at that event, if his prediction is
correct, then his further conclusions will be beyond doubt.”

Grayson nodded.
“Well, I understood about half of that. If Hawaii comes off as he
said, then we are committed to following the Thyssen plan. Is that
it?”

“Yes sir.”

“John?”

“That’s it in a
nutshell. And if Hawaii doesn’t happen…”

“Then we have
to come up with an entirely new plan, isn’t that right, John?”

“Yes Mr.
President.”

“Mr.
Solomon?”

“That’s how I
understand it.”

“Mr. Browning?
Mr. Walker? General Marsden? Do you have opinions on this specific
matter?”

“Not on this
specific...”

Grayson again
emitted a great sigh. “That man stood in this very office and he
argued with me. Me! An eminent scientist and the President of the
United States of America, standing toe to toe, hurling insults at
each other like two boys in a schoolyard. Can you imagine that?
Well, I’m the President and I won that argument as a President
should and I have lived to regret that victory. Like Mr. Palenski,
I too have no desire to make the same mistake a second time.”