Authors: Michael Palmer
CHAPTER 29
DAY 3
4:10 P.M. (CST)
Griff made his own cursory exam of Sylvia Chen’s office, but saw nothing more unusual than a supremely organized, uncluttered workspace.
“You need to look with your mind, not your eyes,” Angie urged.
Griff stood with his faceplate nearly touching hers to hear above the constant rush of air flowing into his pressurized suit.
“Okay, educate me.”
“I would say that my life has been an endless series of phases. Some of them don’t stick, like racquetball and SCUBA and contra dancing, some of them do, like vegetarian cooking and pilates. My feng shui period only lasted until I realized I was far too scattered and disorganized to ever pull it off. But knowledge is never wasted, and by the time I stopped my adult extension classes and daily studies, I had learned a great deal.”
Griff and Melvin followed her over to the framed picture of Angel Falls—the tallest waterfall in the world.
“Feng is wind, shui is water. It’s a Taoist explanation of nature that stresses the importance of energy flow. The simple idea of the science—and like most things Chinese, it can be examined on any number of levels—is that a clear energy flow improves fortune, health, and happiness.”
“Energy,” Griff said. “Got it.”
“For instance, this room is divided into zones. I can tell without a compass that this is the north wall of the office because of the water elements Chen has placed here.” She gripped the back of a narrow chair positioned directly beneath the framed picture and pulled it a few inches away from the wall. “This chair and the blue throw pillow on it feature the colors that best energize this zone.”
Griff pointed to the adjacent wall, which was also the entrance into the office.
“What zone is that?” he asked.
“That’s the east zone. The inside of the office door is painted green.”
“You know, I actually remember her saying that the color of her door helped her to think better,” Forbush said.
“No surprise. This area is characterized by the wood element. Green colors dominate and improve optimism, contentment, and spiritual growth.”
“I’ll bet you got an A in your course,” Griff said.
“Actually, I almost got kicked out. Dr. Huang, the instructor, said I needed to sit still during class or I couldn’t stay.”
Griff set his gloved hands on Angie’s shoulders and turned her to him.
“All interesting,” he said, “but I don’t see the relevance, and I’ve got a lab to get up and running.”
“We want to know where Sylvia might be, right?”
“If she’s still alive,” Forbush added.
“Well, the office layout and décor tell me that she adheres to at least some traditional Chinese beliefs.”
Angie turned to Chen’s desk and held up a framed five-by-seven photo.
“That’s Sylvia,” Griff said, believing he had answered the question Angie was about to ask. “Although I am sure it was taken some years ago.”
Instead, Angie pointed to the other woman in the photograph, an elderly Chinese woman dressed in a white floral-patterned blouse and black skirt.
“How about her?”
Griff shrugged.
“No idea.”
“It’s her mother,” Angie said. “Facial structure, eyes. I’m virtually sure of it.”
“So?”
Angie pulled the photograph out from the black frame and held it up so that Griff could see the date and time stamp the digital camera automatically applied to the print.
“This was taken four years ago.”
Griff shifted impatiently.
“Listen, Angie, I’m fascinated by all you’re saying, and I don’t want to sound rude, but we’ve got to focus on getting some experiments started. Where are you going with this?”
“If Chen is alive, I would bet dollars to donuts that she’s going to be near her mother.”
“That’s quite a leap from a painting and a chair. How could you conclude that?”
“Traditional values. The mother/daughter bond is strong in most cultures, but it’s especially so between Chinese women and their mothers.”
“Is that it?”
“Actually, no,” Angie said. “Listen, Griff, I know you guys are in a rush, but I think there’s something here.”
“Where?”
Angie summoned them across to the bookcase.
“The dominant element in the west zone is metal. Silver and gold colors and the metals themselves enhance this zone’s energy.”
Griff stooped to examine some of the titles.
“I don’t see how books like
Pathogenesis in Clinical Virology
would improve anybody’s health,” he said.
“Unless that person had just contracted Marburg,” Forbush quipped, laughing unself-consciously at his own dark humor.
Angie pulled out books from the bookcase, glanced quickly at the covers, and instead of shelving them, tossed them aside one by one.
“Hey, Ange, slow down. There might be something sharp that could puncture your suit. What are you looking for, anyway?”
“This!” Angie exclaimed, holding up a tall, thin volume with a colorful cover.
Griff read the title aloud.
“
The Power of Peach: Recipes Fit for Kings and Emperors.
I don’t get it.”
“Me neither,” Forbush added.
“Given the other titles, and the relevance of almost all the books to Chen’s work, this one is out of place. There’s no other one like it here.”
“Go on,” Griff said, suddenly interested.
“The peach is symbolic of long life, and plays a significant role in feng shui.”
One by one, Angie turned the pages of the cookbook, fumbling because of her gloves. As she neared the middle, a trifold brochure slid out and fluttered to the floor. Angie picked it up with some difficulty, unfolded it to its full width, and held it up for Griff and Melvin to read.
“Riverside Nursing Home. And here’s a letter from them written three years ago thanking Dr. Chen for her inquiry.”
“What are you thinking?” Griff asked.
“I’m thinking Sylvia’s mother might well be a resident in this facility. And if Sylvia is still alive, she’s somewhere near this place, or at least she visits there.”
“How do we prove that?” Griff asked. “We don’t have phones or even Internet access unless we’re being monitored.”
“I wouldn’t try that anyway. Too dangerous. Especially if we’re the only ones who suspect this might be where Sylvia is. Until we know who Genesis is, and how they knew to blow up that helicopter, it’s unwise to trust anyone but ourselves. You two have to stay in this lab, but I don’t. Melvin, I need your help in sneaking me out of this place.”
“Your wish is my command,” Forbush replied. “Where to?”
“The nearest decent-sized airport.” She pointed to the address on the back page of the brochure. “I’m going to New York City. Chinatown, to be precise.”
CHAPTER 30
DAY 4
9:00 A.M. (EST)
With the bang of her gavel, Ursula Ellis called to order the first meeting of the newly formed United States House Special Committee on the Death Investigation of Senator Harlan Mackey. Ellis possessed profound knowledge of congressional history and could not recall an instance where a special committee resolution had been drafted and voted on in such a compressed timeline. Most unusual too, since President Allaire had endorsed the committee that could ultimately destroy him.
Ellis reflected on the formation of the special committee, and the moment when Allaire, in all his arrogance, agreed to allow it to happen. The president had returned to the House Chamber after a lengthy absence conferring with his cronies, his face drawn and the color of fog. The mood in the hall was bordering on hysteria. Some members of the legislative and judicial branches were demanding to see the video of Mackey’s death again, but as the presiding leader over nonlegislative House activities, Ellis acted within her authority to deny the request. The video had served its purpose, and to rebroadcast it would offer no gain. She had already gotten what she wanted. Jim Allaire was on the ropes.
“What are we going to do about this, Ursula?” Allaire had asked.
They sat facing each other behind the rostrum, Allaire in the vice president’s chair, and Ellis seated across from him in her own.
“Well, Mr. President, you’ll need to be more specific than that.”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Allaire snapped.
On the House floor, a cordon of Secret Service agents, Sean O’Neil among them, blocked access to the rostrum and ensured a private exchange between the two adversaries.
“Sir, there was evidence presented inside this chamber that suggests you may have condoned or even ordered murder.”
“Well, obviously that’s not the truth, and you know it.”
“All I know is what I saw on that videorecording,” Ellis said. “Answer one question for me, Mr. President.”
“Go on.”
“Did you authorize the military’s use of deadly force?”
Allaire’s eyes narrowed.
“No,” he had said.
“Well then, I’d like to form a special committee to establish independent corroboration of that claim. I assume you’ll vigorously endorse such a measure. Unless, of course, you have something to hide … sir.”
“And just how do you propose going about organizing such a committee, Ursula?”
“Simple, Mr. President,” Ellis had said, her tone syrupy with confidence. “At my last count, we have two hundred and eighty voting members of the House of Representatives, all confined by your orders here inside the House Chamber. You have not made it clear whether or not I have access to the ones who are
not
here.”
“And your point?”
“Constitutionally speaking, whether or not we get the others, that gives us a quorum to conduct business.”
Allaire went from calm to livid in a blink.
“You want to hold an official House vote in the middle of this crisis? Are you insane?”
“With all due respect, sir, if your intention is to maintain order, you’ll need to reestablish trust. I believe this is the best way to proceed in doing that.”
“Let me get this straight,” Allaire said. “The purpose of this special committee of yours is to investigate
me
?”
Ellis could almost feel the man’s desire to wrap his hands around her throat. The notion made her smile.
“Oh, not you specifically, Mr. President. The committee will focus on Senator Mackey’s tragic death. Naturally, I’d expect your full cooperation when the committee calls key witnesses to testify under oath. Yourself included.”
“And if I refuse my support?”
Ellis did not hesitate to respond, although given the jubilation she was feeling, it took effort to maintain an outward expression of gravity.
“In that case,” she said, “I’d request that the House Judiciary Committee consider evidence of wrongdoing. The Constitution does grant us the authority to impeach you for high crimes and misdemeanors. I’d say that murder falls under the former of those transgressions. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Ms. Ellis,” Allaire said, “given the threat to our nation posed by these circumstances, what you are doing borders on treason.”
“We have only one Constitution, sir, and I will be only one of those committed to protecting it.”
The anger on Allaire’s face had quickly yielded to stoicism.
“Conduct your hearing and call your vote,” he said. “You’ll have my support.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
Leland Gladstone crafted the first draft of the resolution to form the special committee. Ellis edited much of it. Still, she was impressed that her precocious aide’s prose demonstrated a remarkably mature acumen for the craft of politics. Multiple possible interpretations for every statement. Copies of the resolution were made in the media room, and were distributed to each voting member. Then Ellis called the quorum together. The measure passed with near unanimous support.
Ellis appointed herself chairperson, which did not violate House rules given the committee’s lack of a legislative agenda. Her next task was to select the fourteen committee members from a candidate pool of more than five times that number. The resolution called for equal representation from both parties, though Ellis’s presence ensured that deadlocks would be broken in her favor. She purposefully picked several Allaire loyalists. After they turned against their beloved leader, which Ellis was confident they would, the shockwaves sent through his supporters would be that much more profound.
Access to nearby meeting rooms was not permitted, so Ellis’s newly formed Select Committee met in a cordoned-off section in the upper gallery. Despite the frigid temperature outside, body heat was threatening to convert the chamber into a sauna. And of course, not only were the windows locked shut, but the air-conditioning had been disabled. Shipments of utilitarian clothing had finally been distributed throughout the three groups, and as a result, morale was slightly improved.
“Before we commence with committee proceedings, I want to personally thank each of you for putting aside extremely valid concerns for your own health and safety to focus on vital congressional business,” Ellis began. “I would have not pushed to create this select committee had I not believed it was of the utmost importance to the health and safety of our most pressing responsibility—the welfare of the citizens of the United States. Through your courageous vote, you’ve shown your support in the most significant of ways.”
Silver-haired Barbara Crain, a many-term representative from Delaware, whose ashen complexion cried out for fresh air, spoke first.
“To be honest, Madam Speaker, any action at this time is a welcome distraction. We are feeling impotent and stifled here.”
Many nodded agreement and Ellis graciously thanked them all again. She kept her attention focused on the body language of Allaire’s hardliners, and asked Gladstone to do the same. As she expected, they initially appeared ready to stonewall progress and vociferously defend Allaire to the end. Their postures would change soon enough.
“Just a procedural note,” Ellis said. “My aide, Mr. Gladstone, will be compiling complete and detailed reports of all committee activity. However, under the Open Meetings and Hearings rule, clause two of House Rule eleven, we’ve voted these proceedings will remain closed. Therefore, I’ll remind this committee to refrain from recording any of what is discussed here.”
A congressman from Ohio, overweight and perspiring profusely, scoffed, “We don’t even have anything to record with. Allaire’s damn Nazis have made sure of that.”
That led to a volatile exchange. Ellis banged her gavel to reestablish order.
“A reminder that we will conduct this committee with established House rules for special investigative committees. The chair recognizes herself for five minutes to deliver an opening statement.” Ellis had written out her remarks, but could have easily recited them from memory. “Today, we are faced with one of the greatest and gravest threats our country has ever known. I am of the opinion that this is a threat from within. By within I mean not only from the terrorists calling themselves Genesis, but from our own government, and, yes, from the president himself. It will be the business of this committee to ascertain the validity of my disturbing claim.
“Let us begin with an examination of the facts, such as they might be. Genesis, a known terrorist organization, has allegedly penetrated our extensive, state-of-the-art security to infect us with a virus of some sort. How did they accomplish such a feat without assistance from the very forces assigned to safeguard us? Why have we been prevented from participating in the response to this devastating attack? Why is the executive branch of our government not giving us, the legislative branch, the chance to do the job for which we were elected?”
Ellis paused and let her gaze linger longest on several of the staunchest Allaire supporters. Gladstone checked his watch and held up two fingers to signal Ellis the number of minutes she had spoken.
“As the gentleman from Ohio sadly pointed out,” she continued, “under presidential order, you no longer have phones to contact your own base of support. Why is that? Let me ask: How many of you have a major university in your congressional district?” Half the hands were raised. “And don’t these major universities have scientists? There are vast resources at our disposal that could assist in ameliorating this crisis, and yet we’re denied access. Why?” Again Ellis paused. She had learned that a question often carried more persuasive weight than a claim of fact.
“I propose that there is more to this situation than meets the eye. I further propose that by an exhaustive exploration of Senator Harlan Mackey’s tragic and horrible death, to which we have all borne witness, a new truth will emerge. This select committee must act with the interest of the country above the interest of any individual … or any president. We need to know what Genesis has demanded, not only with this terrifying attack, but with those that preceded it. Surely such demands have been voiced. Surely President Allaire must know what they are. Why has he not shared this information with the people through their duly elected senators and representatives? This committee must be prepared to deal with any and all possibilities—even charges that the president of our country has chosen to keep us in the dark as to what Genesis wants, and has resorted to murder to protect his self-interest by keeping those secrets from us. Does any member have an opening statement?”
A deeply entrenched Allaire supporter raised her hand.
“I have a statement.”
“The chair recognizes the congresswoman from Kentucky,” Ellis said.
“You’ve raised some interesting points, Madam Speaker, that have perhaps altered my thinking. Our dear colleague Senator Mackey appeared to have been executed for simply stepping outside. If this virus does not pose an extreme risk to the populace, as the president so asserts, why did Senator Mackey pay such a steep price for what would seem to be a minor transgression?”
“What are you suggesting?” Ellis asked, as a way of urging her on.
“I’m asking of those present at this proceeding, who believes this virus represents a minor health threat?” A majority of hands were raised. “In that case,” she continued, “we should be able to shortcut this investigation simply by getting somebody on this committee to volunteer to leave the premises and walk the same path Senator Mackey took. President Allaire assured us the shooting was accidental. We believe the virus threat is negligible. A quick trip outside should prove both claims quickly.”
“So said,” Ellis replied. “Do we have any volunteers willing to take up the congresswoman from Kentucky’s suggestion?” Not a single hand went up this time. “If you doubted the importance of our committee before, perhaps those doubts have now been erased.”
There was movement to Ellis’s right. She turned to see a Secret Service agent approaching, carrying a large, bulky manila envelope.
“These are closed proceedings,” Ellis said. “I’m sorry, but you are not permitted here.”
“My apologies, Madam Speaker, but this package arrived for you with our last supply delivery. I’m in charge of package security, so I had to have it scanned, but I did not feel the need to open it. It’s apparently from General Egan himself, so I thought you might want it right away.”
“Much appreciated. I’m sorry to have snapped at you.”
The agent handed Ellis the package, nodded to apologize for the intrusion, and left in the direction from which he had come. Ellis studied the delivery. It was a padded envelope sealed with clear plastic tape. The outside markings she recognized as official U.S. Army insignias, and it was stamped
URGENT
in bold red lettering. Ellis banged her gavel one time.
“The chair recognizes her right to call a thirty-minute recess.”
Ellis rose and maneuvered past the members of her select committee. To this point, the hearing could not have gone much better. As far as doing any significant damage to Jim Allaire, she was still feeling her way along. But the man was lying and concealing vital information, and she was far too much of a pro not to keep probing until something in his shaky façade gave way.