Jack Du Brul - The Medusa Stone

Placing the Kimberley computer projection next to one of the actual Medusa pictures, Mercer quickly traced nearly a dozen similar features between the two. Rather than let his imagination run wild, he studied them more closely. But the truth was right there. His heart raced, and his fingers and palms began to sweat as excitement tore into him. Such a discovery was made once in a lifetime, and Hyde was setting it right in front of him. Buried in the wasteland of northern Eritrea was a kimberlite pipe very much like the one discovered accidentally a century and a half ago in South Africa. He looked up at Hyde, his amazed expression verifying Hyde’s suspicion.

“Some of our people think so too. If there is a diamond-bearing pipe in Eritrea, it could mean economic prosperity for a nation that has absolutely no other prospects.”

Mercer reined in his excitement, forcing neutrality into his voice. “Intriguing, but from what I know of the region, there has never been any indication of diamonds or their marker minerals in the area. I can’t say for certain that Eritrea has been gone over with a fine-toothed comb, but it’s pretty unlikely that a find like this has gone unnoticed for the past hundred years. Especially since Eritrea fell under British protection after World War Two. The Brits rarely miss things like this.”

“But they didn’t have Medusa,” Hyde said. “Because Medusa was destroyed before it was calibrated, we have no way of knowing the depth of the pipe or exactly where it is on the map. It could be anywhere between the surface and ten thousand feet underground. It’s impossible to tell until we get a man on site, stake the area out, so to speak, and assay it for what treasures lie hidden.”

Despite himself, Mercer felt drawn to the possibilities. The pragmatic side of him knew the chances that what was on the picture was actually a kimberlite pipe were remote. And even if it were, it was likely it didn’t contain diamonds; many pipes had been found to be barren. Or its glittering cache had been washed away by erosion over the eons since the vent first reached the surface if, in fact, it ever had. A team could spend a lifetime scouring the wilderness and never find even a trace of the pipe.

On the other hand…

“You can guess why I wanted to talk with you now,” Hyde said. “I’ve got to warn you that the best we can give you from the pictures is a two-hundred-square-mile area for your search in some of the most inhospitable terrain on the planet. But I’ve every confidence you can find the kimberlite pipe and prove whether or not there are diamonds present.”

Hyde paused while a waiter cleared their plates. “I also have to tell you that until independence, that part of Eritrea saw some of the fiercest fighting of the war and is littered with a quarter-million land mines courtesy of Ethiopia’s Soviet backers. And bandits from Sudan prey on the region regularly. Just a few months ago, I got word about an Austrian archaeologist who was killed, butchered really, very close to the epicenter of the search area.”

“Is this part of your sales pitch?” He should have been turned away by those two admissions, but Mercer’s interest increased. He’d talked with Harry about his need for a challenge that went beyond his normal job, and Hyde was laying a big one on him.

“No.” Hyde smiled disarmingly. “But I want to tell you everything I know. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. This mission is not without its risks, and I want you to be fully apprised before you make a decision.”

“Why don’t you just turn this over to the Eritreans?” Mercer asked, circling a finger at the waiter. He didn’t know if Hyde was still thirsty, but he wanted another gimlet.

“Good question. And I can answer it very simply. Medusa does not, nor has it ever existed.”

Mercer looked at him, puzzled.

Hyde continued. “While the Air Force may have given me these pictures, they’re still considered secret. It took a lot of persuasion for them to allow me to bring you into this, but there was no way they would allow us to show them to a foreign power. My armed forces liaison could neither verify nor deny that other satellites with similar capabilities haven’t been launched since Medusa was lost. For purposes of national security, these pictures do not exist.”

Mercer waited for Hyde to continue, for he knew there was another motive. He had lived in and around official Washington long enough to know that ulterior motives were as common as tourists on the Mall.

“The other reason is strictly a policy decision from my office.” Hyde leaned forward conspiratorially. “What I want to do is present the government of Eritrea a fait accompli, not just a suspicion of fabulous wealth, but the exact location of the diamonds, potential worth, and proper means of extraction. I understand this kind of work is your stock and trade. I want you to go to Eritrea, find the kimberlite pipe, then figure out the value of the vent and just how to get the diamonds out of the earth.”

Mercer said nothing, but he was certain Prescott Hyde was lying to him. Maybe not directly, but lying through omission. He hadn’t liked the Undersecretary on the phone yesterday, and he liked him even less now.

The man from State continued, playing his final hand. “If you’re concerned about security, I can tell you that, while not really sanctioned, I did bring in someone from Eritrea’s embassy here in Washington. I didn’t go into many details, merely hinting at the possibility of a tremendous mineral find, testing the waters for possible opposition if we took the initiative ourselves. As you can guess, our plan was literally jumped on. While not getting full sanction from their government, I’ve managed to get you the next best thing.” Hyde paused and smiled. “If you’re willing to go, that is.”

“Finding the pipe, if it’s even possible, would take months. That’s a big chunk of time, and my time doesn’t come cheap. I’m going to need to think about this awhile. How about I give you an answer in a week or two?” Something was up here. Hyde still wasn’t telling him everything, and no matter how interesting the project, Mercer was getting a bad feeling. He saw his tablemate’s stricken expression. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” Hyde covered. “It’s just that I led my Eritrean associate to believe that this could be done quickly. Already plans are in motion, you see.”

Suddenly the restaurant became very uncomfortable. That prickly feeling was back with a vengeance. Mercer knew when he was about to be railroaded, and rather than wait to blow Hyde off later, he made his decision. He stood abruptly. “Then I guess I’m the wrong person for the job. Sorry. I’m familiar with how to handle national secrets, I know a few myself, so rest assured what was discussed here will go no further. Please don’t try to contact me again.”

He wasn’t particularly angry about being lied to. From a government employee, he almost expected it, but that didn’t mean he was going to waste any more time listening either. There was another agenda in place here, some shadowy plan that either Hyde wouldn’t discuss or couldn’t. Not that the reason really mattered to Mercer. He might be in a professional rut, but he knew Hyde’s proposal wasn’t the way out of it.

He didn’t pay any attention to the businessman at a table in the bar working from an open briefcase. The case hid a sophisticated unidirectional microphone. The entire conversation had been recorded.

The tape deck had been placed in the center of the small, faux-wood dining table, the four chairs clustered around it occupied by the station chief and the three senior members of his team. All of them had listened to the recording just forty-five minutes after Mercer’s exit from the Willard Hotel.