C. Graham - The Solomon Effect

“So we knew U-114 was an XI-B, rather than an XB?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how did we know that?”

Chandler’s complacent expression never slipped. “We’ve returned most of the archives we seized to the Germans, but not quite all of them. Some sensitive material is still classified. We knew U-114 sailed for South Africa and Japan as part of Operation Caesar, and we knew that amongst its other cargo it carried an unidentified weapon referred to only as ‘die Klinge von Solomon.’”

Beckham frowned. “What’s that?”

“It’s German for ‘the Sword of Solomon.’”

Beckham felt a chill run up his spine.

Chandler said, “It all seemed to fit.”

Beckham pushed away from his desk to stand and look out the window. It was a moment before he spoke. “None of this explains why I wasn’t told the truth.”

“The President made a strategic decision to limit the number of people with access to the intelligence.”

Beckham swung to face him again. “Why?”

“Why?” Chandler huffed a soft laugh. “If this information gets out, it’ll rewrite the history books-and not in a way that would reflect well on the United States.”

“My God, man. You think that’s more important than preventing some terrorist outfit from detonating an atom bomb on our soil?”

A muscle tightened along Chandler’s jaw. “We have over fourteen hundred crews fanning out all over the country, sir. If those sons of bitches have brought that device into the States, we’ll find it.”

Beckham studied the other man’s smooth, handsome face. “Your confidence is inspiring. But I can’t help thinking that, thanks to you, I sent two brave young people into danger without even knowing what I was asking them to face.”

Chandler pushed to his feet. “We plan to bring them home tonight, sir.”

Beckham shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’ve done pretty darn good, so far. I say, let ’em run with it.”

“Sir-”

“You heard me. I want Guinness and Alexander to keep following this thing wherever they think it’s leading them. At least for now.”

Chandler’s jaw tightened. But he simply inclined his head and turned toward the door. “Yes, sir.”

Bremen, Germany: Wednesday 28 October

11:05 P.M. local time

“This isn’t going to work,” said October. Wrapped in one of the guesthouse’s big, fluffy white bathrobes, she sat on the edge of the bed, her wet hair hanging straight about her shoulders.

“Why not?” said Jax.

“There’s a protocol”

“I know. I talked to the Colonel. I’ve selected the target myself. It’s written down, here.” He laid a folded square of paper on the table before him. “When we’re ready, I’ll give the Colonel a call. He doesn’t know what the target is, so he can do the tasking from New Orleans, over my speakerphone.”

“This isn’t something you can do over a speakerphone.”

“Why not?”

She ran the splayed fingers of one hand through her wet hair, raking it off her forehead. “I don’t know. It just isn’t.”

“I don’t see why it should make a difference.”

She stared at him with wide, luminous brown eyes. “I thought you didn’t believe in remote viewing.”

“I don’t. But, for some reason I can’t begin to understand, it works.” He hesitated. “Sometimes.”

“See. You don’t believe in it.”

He pushed away from the table. “You saw that U-boat in Kaliningrad. I don’t know how or why, but I can’t deny the fact that it was there, right where you said it was.” He went to put his hands on her shoulders. He could feel the tension thrumming through her like fine little tremors. “You need to do this, October,” he said more gently. “We have just over two days left until Halloween. Right now, we don’t know who these guys are, or where they’re going to hit. About all we do know is that if we don’t stop them, a lot of innocent people are going to die. Horribly.”

She gazed up at him. “What if it doesn’t work? Then what will we do?”

He shifted his hands to her neck, kneading the tight muscles. The truth was, they’d reached a dead end, and time was running out. But all he said was, “We’ll figure out something. But we need this viewing, October. Will you do it?”

He felt her draw in a deep breath that shuddered her small frame. “Let me get dressed.”

While he dimmed the lights, she pulled on a turtleneck and a pair of sweatpants, then went to sit cross-legged in a darkened corner of the room, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes closed. Part of her success as a remote viewer came, he knew, from this-this rare ability to sink so easily and deeply into the required state. Her vegetarian diet, and the years she had spent practicing yoga and meditating, all helped. But the last few days had been chaotic and frightening; how would that affect her ability to reach her “Zone”?

He watched her lips part, her chest rising and falling with her even breathing. There was a peace about her, a calm grounding, that he both admired and-he was ashamed to realize-vaguely envied.

She opened her eyes and gave him a soft smile.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He reached for his phone.

“The target is written on the folded piece of paper Jax laid on the table,” said the Colonel, his voice sounding vaguely hollow as it came through the speakerphone. “It’s a location. I want you to tell me what you see.”

October sat silently. She had shifted to a comfortable chair, a pad of paper and a pen on her lap. From the table near the window, Jax watched as a slight frown twitched her forehead. Her lips parted, but she said nothing.

After a moment, the Colonel said, “Just take your time, October.”

She closed her eyes. Jax had only seen her do a viewing once before, but he could sense the tension in her. Something was wrong.

The Colonel said, “Tobie?”

She shook her head. “It’s not working. I’m not getting anything.”

The Colonel’s voice was soothing. “That’s okay, Tobie. Just try to relax. Describe what you see.”

She took another breath. “I see…darkness.”

The Colonel waited patiently, but after a few minutes of continued silence, he said, “Describe some sensory elements, Tobie.”

Her pen was moving across the paper now, in slow looping circles. “I sense…a void. It’s like the dull moan of a blowing wind. It’s…I’ve never experienced this before. It’s…”

She thrust up suddenly from the chair, both hands coming up to pull her still damp hair away from her face. “It’s not working.”

The Colonel’s voice was low, calm. “It’s all right, Tobie.”

She spun to face Jax. He stood beside the window, watching her. She said, “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Without this viewing-without the information we need from it-we don’t have anything.”

“We can try again, later,” said McClintock.

Jax picked up the phone and took it off Speaker. “I’ll get back to you, Colonel. Thanks.” He looked at October.

She said, “The target. What was the target?”

He shook his head. “If we’re going to try it later, that kind of frontloading-”

“No. What was the target?” She snatched up the piece of paper that still lay on the table. He’d folded it into thirds, and then again in half. Spreading it open, she stared down at what he had written.

The current location of the atomic device taken from U-114.

“Maybe I worded it wrong,” said Jax.

She shook her head. “No. It should have worked. I should have seen something, even if it wasn’t enough to tell us exactly where the bomb is.”

His hands closed over hers, crushing the sheet of paper she still held. “It’s okay.”