Dan Brown - Deception Point

“I know. A little bizarre, but science can be like that. Feast or famine. The point is that the administrator felt like the meteorite should have been our discovery anyway—if I had done my job correctly. He told me that because the Canadian was dead, nobody would be the wiser if I simply redirected PODS to the coordinates the Canadian had transmitted in his SOS. Then I could pretend to discover the meteorite from scratch, and we could salvage some respect from an embarrassing failure.”

“And that’s what you did.”

“As I said, I had no choice. I had let down the mission.” He paused. “Tonight, though, when I heard the President’s press conference and found out the meteorite I’d pretended to discover contained fossils...”

“You were stunned.”

“Bloody well floored, I’d say!”

“Do you think the administrator knew the meteorite contained fossils before he asked you to pretend PODS found it?”

“I can’t imagine how. That meteorite was buried and untouched until the first NASA team got there. My best guess is that NASA had no idea what they’d really found until they got a team up there to drill cores and x-ray. They asked me to lie about PODS, thinking they’d have a moderate victory with a big meteorite. Then when they got there, they realized just how big a find it really was.”

Gabrielle’s breath was shallow with excitement. “Dr. Harper, will you testify that NASA and the White House forced you to lie about the PODS software?”

“I don’t know.” Harper looked frightened. “I can’t imagine what kind of damage that would do to the agency... to this discovery.”

“Dr. Harper, you and I both know this meteorite remains a wonderful discovery, regardless of how it came about. The point here is that you lied to the American people. They have a right to know that PODS is not everything NASA says it is.”

“I don’t know. I despise the administrator, but my coworkers ... they are good people.”

“And they deserve to know they are being deceived.”

“And this evidence against me of embezzlement?”

“You can erase that from your mind,” Gabrielle said, having almost forgotten her con. “I will tell the senator you know nothing of the embezzlement. It is simply a frame job—insurance set up by the administrator to keep you quiet about PODS.”

“Can the senator protect me?”

“Fully. You’ve done nothing wrong. You were simply following orders. Besides, with the information you’ve just given me about this Canadian geologist, I can’t imagine the senator will even need to raise the issue of embezzlement at all. We can focus entirely on NASA’s misinformation regarding PODS and the meteorite. Once the senator breaks the information about the Canadian, the administrator won’t be able to risk trying to discredit you with lies.”

Harper still looked worried. He fell silent, somber as he pondered his options. Gabrielle gave him a moment. She’d realized earlier that there was another troubling coincidence to this story. She wasn’t going to mention it, but she could see Dr. Harper needed a final push.

“Do you have dogs, Dr. Harper?”

He glanced up. “I’m sorry?”

“I just thought it was odd. You told me that shortly after this Canadian geologist radioed in the meteorite coordinates, his sled dogs ran blindly into a crevasse?”

“There was a storm. They were off course.”

Gabrielle shrugged, letting her skepticism show. “Yeah... okay.”

Harper clearly sensed her hesitation. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. There’s just a lot of coincidence surrounding this discovery. A Canadian geologist transmits meteorite coordinates on a frequency that only NASA can hear? And then his sled dogs run blindly off a cliff?” She paused. “You obviously understand that this geologist’s death paved the way for this entire NASA triumph.”

The color drained from Harper’s face. “You think the administrator would kill over this meteorite.”

Big politics. Big money, Gabrielle thought. “Let me talk to the senator and we’ll be in touch. Is there a back way out of here?”

Gabrielle Ashe left a pale Chris Harper and descended a fire stairwell into a deserted alley behind NASA. She flagged down a taxi that had just dropped off more NASA celebrators.

“Westbrooke Place Luxury Apartments,” she told the driver. She was about to make Senator Sexton a much happier man.

Wondering what she had agreed to, Rachel stood near the entrance of the G4 cockpit, stretching a radio transceiver cable into the cabin so she could place her call out of earshot of the pilot. Corky and Tolland looked on. Although Rachel and NRO director William Pickering had planned to maintain radio silence until her arrival at Bollings Air Force Base outside of D.C., Rachel now had information she was certain Pickering would want to hear immediately. She had phoned his secure cellular, which he carried at all times.

When William Pickering came on the line, he was all business. “Speak with care, please. I cannot guarantee this connection.”

Rachel understood. Pickering’s cellular, like most NRO field phones, had an indicator that detected unsecured incoming calls. Because Rachel was on a radiophone, one of the least secure communication modes available, Pickering’s phone had warned him. This conversation would need to be vague. No names. No locations.

“My voice is my identity,” Rachel said, using the standard field greeting in this situation. She had expected the director’s response would be displeasure that she had risked contacting him, but Pickering’s reaction sounded positive.

“Yes, I was about to make contact with you myself. We need to redirect. I’m concerned you may have a welcoming party.”

Rachel felt a sudden trepidation. Someone is watching us. She could hear the danger in Pickering’s tone. Redirect. He would be pleased to know she had called to make that exact request, albeit for entirely different reasons.

“The issue of authenticity,” Rachel said. “We’ve been discussing it. We may have a way to confirm or deny categorically.”

“Excellent. There have been developments, and at least then I would have solid ground on which to proceed.”

“The proof involves our making a quick stop. One of us has access to a laboratory facility—”

“No exact locations, please. For your own safety.”

Rachel had no intention of broadcasting her plans over this line. “Can you get us clearance to land at GAS-AC?”

Pickering was silent a moment. Rachel sensed he was trying to process the word. GAS-AC was an obscure NRO gisting shorthand for the Coast Guard’s Group Air Station Atlantic City. Rachel hoped the director would know it.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I can arrange that. Is that your final destination?”

“No. We will require further helicopter transport.”

“An aircraft will be waiting.”

“Thank you.”

“I recommend you exercise extreme caution until we know more. Speak to no one. Your suspicions have drawn deep concern among powerful parties.”

Tench, Rachel thought, wishing she had managed to make contact with the President directly.

“I am currently in my car, en route to meet the woman in question. She has requested a private meeting in a neutral location. It should reveal much.”

Pickering is driving somewhere to meet Tench? Whatever Tench was going to tell him must be important if she refused to tell him on the phone.

Pickering said, “Do not discuss your final coordinates with anyone. And no more radio contact. Is that clear?”