Страница 59 из 102
Rolfe nodded. “We co
“What’s her co
Rolfe flicked a nervous glance at Jeffreys. “We’ve been working on that, sir. We noticed the first communication between the Deep Fathom and the university was the day after the ship sailed from here.”
“Any idea why Kirkland was calling this woman?”
“Actually, that’s what we were just working on when you arrived. It seems it was not the Deep Fathom that made the initial contact call, but the other way around. She called him.”
David frowned, lowering the sheet of paper. “She called him?”
“Yes, sir. We found it suspicious, too. So Lieutenant Jeffreys spent the last half hour gaining access to all e-mail coming and going from the ship. It took a bit of time to convince their ISP to allow us access.” Rolfe swung one of the laptop computers around so its screen faced David. “We downloaded the e-mail. There were five exchanges between the two parties.”
David leaned his palms on the table and bent nearer the computer.
Rolfe continued, “All the mail dealt with some cryptic language.”
David slammed his fist against the table. “I knew it. The bastard did discover the inscription!”
Reaching over, Rolfe clicked on one of the e-mails. The page opened up on the screen. “Here’s a bit of the language. It seems the naval historian aboard the Deep Fathom had blanketed the Internet news boards, inquiring about the origins of this language.”
On the screen, David stared at the five tiny icons included in the e-mail. He recognized their similarity to what he had seen below. “And this professor from Okinawa responded to the inquiry?”
“Yes, sir. She answered, saying she had more examples of the language and wanted to meet.”
“So Kirkland went out there. The bastard is investigating this lead.”
“That’s not all, sir.”
David turned from the computer screen. “What else?”
“You’d better read her response yourself.” Rolfe clicked open a second piece of mail.
David leaned over and read the message. As he sca
“That’s what we thought, too.”
“If she has some of it, our mission here is compromised. No one was supposed to know of the crystal deposit. If Kirkland goes blabbing about it and they have a sample of the crystal…” David’s voice trailed off. This was bad. He waved his men away. “Clear out. I need to talk to Ruzickov.”
“Aye, sir.” Both men quickly left the cabin.
Alone, David crossed to his bunk and pulled out his personal scrambled phone. It was late evening in Washington, but he knew this information was too vital to sit on overnight. He opened a cha
“Ruzickov here.”
“Sir, it’s Commander Spangler.”
“I know who it is,” the director snapped at him. Even over the encrypted line, David could hear the exhaustion in the man’s voice. “What do you want? I have a war about to erupt out here.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been following the reports.”
Nicolas Ruzickov sighed. “It’s worse than in any reports. The Chinese know of the President’s intention to seek a declaration of war. It’s chaos out there. The Chinese navy has already secured a blockade around Taiwan — from Batan Island to the south and swinging full around the Taiwanese coastline.”
David gripped the phone’s receiver tighter. “And our forces?”
“The USS John C. Ste
“I think it is, sir. The security of this site may be compromised.” David related the discovery of the communication between Kirkland’s ship and university on Okinawa. “If other parties gain wind of the crystal’s properties, we could lose our edge here.”
Ruzickov’s voice lost its exasperated tone. “You were right to bring this to my attention.” David was impressed by the man’s ability to switch gears so smoothly from one crisis to the next. The CIA director quickly put together a game plan. “It seems this professor knows more than we do. I want you to fetch her, convince her to join our team. But more importantly, her crystal sample must be confiscated. This is a black priority.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Black priority were the code words to unleash Omega team with lethal force. There was no higher designation for a mission.
“Do you truly understand, Commander? If the tensions out East turn to war, we may need a secret weapon, the equivalent of the atomic bomb during World War Two. We ca
“Don’t worry, sir. I will see to it personally.”
“Do so.” It sounded like Ruzickov was about to sign off.
David spoke quickly. “What about Jack Kirkland?”
Ruzickov sighed. “I told you this is a black priority mission. No word must leak out about what we’re doing. Silence him however you must.”
David smiled grimly. “I’m already on it, sir.”
“Don’t fail me, Commander.” The phone line went dead.
David slowly lowered the receiver and clicked its case closed. He sat for a moment with his palm resting atop the case. Black priority. His blood thrilled with those two words. He savored them for a moment, then stood up.
He crossed to the cabin door, opened it and barked an order to his man in the hall: “Fetch Lieutenant Handel. Tell him to bring the detonation transmitter.”
With a nod, the man hurried away.
David closed the door and leaned his back against it. He would bring a whole shitload of hurt down upon Kirkland’s head, he thought. And he knew where to strike first — at the man’s heart and soul.
At the Deep Fathom.
It was Charlie Mollier’s turn to prepare di
Charlie, though, whistled in tune to the reggae music of Bob Marley on the tape deck beside the sink. Wearing onlya pair of baggy swim shorts that reached his knees, he swayed slightly as he stirred his homemade gungo pea and coconut soup, a family recipe. The spicy steam stung his nostrils. He smiled widely. “Nothin’ like hot food on a hot day.”
Reaching behind him, he tapped the blender. Its grinding roar drowned out the reggae music. “And margaritas, of course. Lots of margaritas!”
Ladle in hand, he spun around in sync with the chaotic melody of kitchen noises. With Jack gone, the entire ship had relaxed, enjoying the temporary reprieve. And Charlie was in an especially good mood. The moist heat, the tropical islands dotting the horizons…it was as if he were back home in the Caribbean. Bending over, he checked the oven. The fruity scent of his jerked chicken rolled out as he cracked the door open.
“Perfect,” he said contentedly.
Bent over, he felt something goose him from behind. He snapped upward with a squawk of surprise. Swinging around, he found Elvis staring up at him. The German shepherd nosed Charlie again, a small whine rising from his throat.