Deception Point Page 97

Rachel inserted the entire stack into the hydrolabs facsimile elevator car machine. Knowing altogether a few fax numbers by heart, she had limited choices, but she had already made up her mind who would be receiving these pages and her note. Holding her breath, she c atomic number 18fully typed in the persons fax number.She pressed send, praying she had elect the recipient wisely.The fax machine beeped.ERROR NO control TONERachel had expected this. The Goyas communications were mollify being jammed. She stood waiting and watching the machine, hoping it functioned like hers at home.Come onAfter five seconds, the machine beeped again.REDIALINGYes Rachel watched the machine lock into an endless loop.ERROR NO DIAL TONEREDIALINGERROR NO DIAL TONEREDIALINGLeaving the fax machine in search of a dial tone, Rachel dashed aside of the hydrolab just as helicopter blades thundered overhead.119One hundred and sixty miles away from the Goya, Gabrielle Ashe was staring at Senator Sextons info rmation processing system screen in mute astonishment. Her suspicions had been right. simply she had never imagined how right.She was looking at digital scans of dozens of bevel checks written to Sexton from private space companies and deposited in numbered accounts in the Cayman Islands. The smallest check Gabrielle saw was for fifteen thousand dollars. Several were upward of half a million dollars.Small potatoes, Sexton had told her. All the donations are under the two-thousand-dollar cap.Obviously Sexton had been lying all along. Gabrielle was looking at illegal campaign backing on an enormous scale. The pangs of betrayal and disillusionment settled hard now in her heart. He lied.She tangle up stupid. She felt dirty. But most of all she felt mad.Gabrielle sat alone in the evil, realizing she had no thinking what to do next.120Above the Goya, as the Kiowa banked over the stern deck, Delta-One gazed polish, his eyes fixating on an utterly unpredicted vision.Michael Tolland was standing on deck beside a small submersible. Dangling in the subs robotic arms, as if in the grasp of a giant insect, hung Delta-Two, struggling in vain to free himself from two enormous claws.What in the invoke of God?Equally as shocking an image, Rachel Sexton had just arrived on deck, taking up a position over a bound and bleeding man at the foot of the submersible. The man could only be Delta-Three. Rachel held one of the Delta Forces machine guns on him and stared up at the chopper as if daring them to attack.Delta-One felt momentarily disoriented, unable to fathom how this possibly could make happened. The Delta Forces errors on the ice shelf earlier had been a rare but explainable occurrence. This, however, was unimaginable.Delta-Ones humiliation would have been excruciating enough under normal circumstances. But tonight his shame was magnified by the presence of another individual riding with him inside the chopper, a person whose presence here was highly unconvention al.The controller.Following the Deltas kill at the FDR Memorial, the controller had ordered Delta-One to fly front to a deserted public park not far from the White House. On the controllers command, Delta-One had set down on a grassy knoll among some trees just as the controller, having parked nearby, strode out of the darkness and boarded the Kiowa. They were all en route again in a matter of seconds.Although a controllers direct exponentiation in mission operations was rare, Delta-One could hardly complain. The controller, distressed by the way the Delta Force had gainled the kills on the Milne grouch Shelf and reverenceing increasing suspicions and scrutiny from a number of parties, had informed Delta-One that the final phase of the operation would be overseen in person.Now the controller was riding shotgun, witnessing in person a failure the likes of which Delta-One had never endured.This mustiness end. Now.The controller gazed down from the Kiowa at the deck of the Goya a nd wondered how this could possibly have happened. Nothing had gone properly-the suspicions about the meteorite, the failed Delta kills on the ice shelf, the necessity of the high-profile kill at the FDR.Controller, Delta-One stammered, his tone one of stunned disgrace as he looked at the situation on the deck of the Goya. I cannot imagine Nor can I, the controller thought. Their quarry had patently been grossly underestimated.The controller looked down at Rachel Sexton, who stared up blankly at the choppers reflective windshield and brocaded a CrypTalk device to her mouth. When her synthesized voice crackled inside the Kiowa, the controller expected her to demand that the chopper back onward or extinguish the jamming system so Tolland could call for help. But the words Rachel Sexton radius were far more chilling.Youre too late, she said. Were not the only ones who know.The words echoed for a moment inside the chopper. Although the make seemed far-fetched, the faintest possibilit y of truth gave the controller pause. The success of the entire project required the elimination of all those who knew the truth, and as bloody as the containment had turned out to be, the controller had to be certain this was the conclusion.Someone else knowsConsidering Rachel Sextons reputation for avocation strict protocol of classified data, the controller found it very hard to believe that she would have dogged to share this with an outside source.Rachel was on the CrypTalk again. Back withdraw and well spare your men. Come any closer and they die. each way, the truth comes out. Cut your losses. Back off.Youre bluffing, the controller said, knowing the voice Rachel Sexton was hearing was an androgynous robotic tone. You have told no one.Are you ready to take that chance? Rachel fired back. I couldnt get through to William Pickering earlier, so I got spooked and took out some insurance.The controller frowned. It was plausible.Theyre not buying it, Rachel said, glancing at To lland.The soldier in the claws gave a pained smirk. Your gun is empty, and the choppers discharge to blow you to hell. Youre both going to die. Your only hope is to let us go.Like hell, Rachel thought, trying to assess their next move. She looked at the bound and gagged man who lay at her feet right off in front of the sub. He looked delirious from loss of blood. She crouched beside him, looking into the mans hard eyes. Im going to take off your gag and hold the CrypTalk youre going to convince the helicopter to back off. Is that clear?The man nodded earnestly.Rachel pulled out the mans gag. The soldier spat a wad of bloody saliva up into Rachels face.Bitch, he hissed, coughing. Im going to watch you die. Theyre going to kill you like a pig, and Im going to enjoy every minute.Rachel wiped the hot saliva from her face as she felt Tollands hands lifting her away, pulling her back, steadying her as he took her machine gun. She could feel in his affright touch that something inside h im had just snapped. Tolland walked to a control panel a few yards away, put his hand on a lever, and locked eyes with the man lying on the deck.Strike two, Tolland said. And on my ship, thats all you get.With a resolute rage, Tolland yanked down on the lever. A huge trapdoor in the deck beneath the Triton go away open like the floor of a gallows. The bound soldier gave a short howl of fear and then disappeared, plummeting through the hole. He fell thirty feet to the ocean below. The splash was crimson. The sharks were on him instantly.The controller agitate with rage, looking down from the Kiowa at what was left of Delta-Threes body drifting out from under the boat on the strong current. The illuminated water was pink. Several fish fought over something that looked like an arm.