John Schettler - Fallen Angels - 9 Days Falling, Volume II

“Well, Miss Fairchild…” he said aloud, noting she remained unwed with some interest. She might make for an interesting companion on his little journey, then again, she might be nothing more than an encumbrance. It didn’t matter. She was half a world away, and the world was going to hell. He knew it, and a handful of other very wealthy and well connected men and women knew it too, and the days were running down. There wasn’t much sand left in the hourglass. This war was going to spin out of hand and make a grand end of things, and that was very inconvenient—unless you were very well prepared; unless you had a plan.

He had carefully positioned all his assets in recent months, making sure that his exposure to the black hole in the markets that was eating Goldman Sachs this morning could not touch him in any way, not that it mattered any longer. His mind had been focused on one thing only, a singular project…yes…how to find a place of quiet and serenity where he could live out his life in peace and exercise the considerable wealth and power he possessed at the same time—unmolested by current regulations and constraints, or the wild annoyances of the modern financial system.

Now he had just the ticket—as did a very few others. They were men like Maitland; women like Lady Pomroy, and perhaps even promising newcomers like this Elena Fairchild. She would have to pass muster, of course, and the scrutiny of the committee, but it might be arranged at the next meeting. It might. Then again, perhaps she is already a key holder as well. No one really knew the names and identities of every person privileged to hold a key. A pity to leave a woman like that one behind. Perhaps he could make inquiries.

“I see your cash flow is running a bit thin, Miss Fairchild. Seems to me you’ve got most of your quarterly profit burning in the Straits of Hormuz or lying on the bottom of the Black Sea.”

Yes… Princess Royal was your largest tanker, and you were probably counting on her to make good with the Bank of London. Pity. Let’s hope you make it through the Bosporus with your last two ships. And what’s this bit here… Argos Fire , a converted Daring class destroyer purchased some years ago for refit. How very interesting.

He thought on this large sum columned off to ‘Special Projects,’ his curiosity getting the better of him. He’d have a word with Jameson over that the Bank and see what they knew about it. Under the circumstances, and given the rather thin reserves this lady seems to have in hand at the moment, the company is looking just a tad vulnerable now, isn’t it? He sighed, realizing his old instincts for an easy kill and quick acquisition were misplaced here. It didn’t matter any longer. He had other ‘arrangements’ now, and if this Fairchild was a key holder then she would have other arrangements as well, and not be bandying about in the Black Sea worried about oil.

With that in mind he wondered if he should consider taking a man like this Thomas fellow along with him for the utilization of his special talents. He might prove very useful indeed. He decided to make him an offer, and was confident all would be well, reaching for his intercom to buzz the secretary.

“Yes sir?”

“Calendar clear for the day?” he asked.

“Nothing the remainder of the afternoon, sir.”

“Good. Ring Mister Thomas Tell them I should like to meet with him again in the morning. Shall we say six AM?”

“Very good, sir.”

That should be sufficient, he thought. A man like Thomas could be much more useful than Fairchild. She’d have to be looked after, fawned over, and might end up being a nuisance more than anything else. He had come round to thinking of his plan as something more like a safari than a pleasure cruise. In that circumstance, Thomas was the much better fit.

Then he looked at his calendar for the next week. It’s a pity he was going to have to disappoint so many people. Some were coming to seek venture capital, others to make business proposals, merger offers, lucrative expansion deals. He left all the appointments in place, though if all went well he would not be here to ever worry about them again. He would be somewhere else entirely if all went as planned.

That thought brought all the excitement of the chase back again, the eagerness and anticipation of the great journey—if it worked. That was the kicker. It had to work. He decided to give this Professor Dorland another call to see about it. After all, he bankrolled a goodly amount to indulge the man’s extravagant ideas. But if he was on to something…if it actually possible…

Even as he reached for intercom to have his secretary arrange a secure line the telephone on his desk rang—Line 1. That raised an eyebrow, and a flash of concern as he reached for the receiver.

“Yes,” he said quietly, wondering what this was all about.

“Good afternoon, sir. I am sorry to report we may have an anomaly.”

“I see. You may have an anomaly?”

“We believe so, sir. The variation readings are very high. Would you care to look at the data?”

“Yes, of course. Please have a file on my desk within the hour.”

My, my, he thought. An anomaly! This was interesting. Was someone else planning something? Could it be Maitland? The lady Pomroy? Whatever it was, he had to get a handle on it at once.

Ithad been forty-eight hours since the disastrous eruption of the Demon imposed its will on the seas around Hokkaido. In that time the remnant of the Red Banner Pacific fleet had withdrawn into the Sea of Okhotsk as the wounded CVBG Washington retired on Guam. Even as the battle erupted in the Black Sea between units of Fairchild Inc. and the Russian Black Sea Fleet, Captain Tanner’s stricken carrier had effected a loose rendezvous with CVBG Nimitz in the region north of Marianas. Additional support was close at hand with CVBG Eisenhower , which had moved up the coast of Malaysia and through the Sulu Sea to head east for Guam.

The US was now consolidating its naval power for the next phase of its planned operations. Intelligence had been unable to ascertain the fate of the core of the Russian fleet. Satellite photography was impossible due to the enormous and expanding plume of ashfall from the volcano, and submarine contact was hit and miss on sonar due to the continuing seismic turmoil caused by the eruption. Now both sides were quietly prowling the undersea environment with subs, listening on passive sonar as they crept through the deep murky waters. Behind it all the constant rumble of the volcano growled from subterranean depths with an ominous undertone.

Naval planners on the American side deemed further operations by the Russian fleet would be impossible unless the flotilla sortied into the Sea of Japan where it would be vulnerable to land based air power from the main island of Honshu. For this reason they elected to withdraw south and consolidate to confront the real threat in the ongoing operations being mounted by China against Taiwan.

Rod Leyman, White House Chief of Staff, was meeting again with defense analyst Lt. Commander William Reed, Air Force General Henry Lane, and the newly appointed five star Navy Admiral William Ghortney. A tough and experienced naval professional, Ghortney had pinned on his gold wings long ago as a naval aviator, and the stripes on his cuff were well earned with well over 5000 error free flying hours and 1200 safe carrier landings under his belt. He had served in executive capacities on six fleet carriers, including both the Nimitz and Eisenhower , both now prowling like angry sharks in the waters north of Guam. It was his combat experience in operations against Iraq and service involving other maritime security roles that made him the ideal man for the job now facing the Navy. But the Admiral had some hard questions to ask that day.