Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (3 page)

“Danielle, this is Colton,” the voice of her boss came over the speakers. “Don’t drive straight up. We’re hacking the surveillance cameras and will get them offline, but it’s going to take thirty seconds or so.”

“Understood,” she said, stomping the brakes and leaning down to look at the light post above her. A black weather enclosure concealed a camera. “I didn’t think about it,” she said.

“No problem,” he said. “I want you to park in one of the hangars in the back row. The door’s open. Put your car inside and hoof it over.”

“Ok,” she said, driving off to find the open hangar.

The lights came on as she pulled into the dark building. Grabbing her phone and the microdisk, she took off toward the jet.

The Citation’s marker lights flashed on as she approached, and she could hear the turbines spinning up. “Not wasting any time,” she whispered to herself. The bright cosmetic lights snapped off, and the tarmac in front of her became dark and ominous. She picked up her pace, covering the rest of the distance at a dead run.

Colton Taylor was standing beside the door wearing a western hat and long duster. His silver hair flowed down his back and shined in the light coming through the open doorway. He looked more like a rancher than a billionaire industrialist.

It was a disturbing incongruity, but it fit with what she’d read about him. The phrase that one of the articles used was,
Enigma Incarnate
. Now she understood what they’d meant.

“Good morning, Dr. Cavanaugh,” he hollered, gesturing for her to hurry. “We’ve got company coming, so we best get moving.”

“Company?” she huffed, ducking into the passenger cabin while he heaved the hatch closed. The pilot released the brakes and they were rolling toward the runway.

“Four egg-beaters left Kitt Peak the moment you hit the code at the gate, they’re heading straight at us,” he said, sounding calm. “They were probably waiting for you to stick your digital neck out.”

“Hell,” Danielle swore. “I never thought about that.”

“I don’t think they teach a class in evasion for astronomers,” he said. “It’s ok. They won’t be able to track us once we get wheels up.”

“They won’t?” she asked.

“One of our engineers designed the tracking radar they’re using, and we’ve got almost the same active stealth as the F-28 Starhawk.”

“The Starhawk?” she said, following him into the pilot cabin. They were turning onto the runway.

It wasn’t until Colton sat down in the pilot’s seat that she realized they were alone. The plane was taxiing itself. He nodded for her to take the right chair.

“You’re going to want to grab a seat,” he said. “This thing’s got pretty serious legs.”

Cole turned toward the instruments, gesturing again at the co-pilot’s seat. She felt her reality shift as he ran his finger over a seamless obsidian-black control panel and a thousand displays came on. This wasn’t any cockpit she’d ever been in. It looked like something straight out of NASA’s Christmas wish-list.

“You’ve got about five seconds before we kick this bird in the ass. Sit down!” Cole barked.

“Yes sir,” she said, jumping to comply. She grabbed the harness and snapped it home as they lunged forward, slamming her head back against the seat. Behind her, the turbines’ whine remained unchanged, but she was too busy gasping for air to notice.

Their nose rotated up, continuing past the normal climb rate for this type of jet. She could tell they were rocketing skyward at seventy-five or eighty degrees.

They continued for almost a minute before he brought the nose over and eased off the throttles. She looked out the window, shocked at their altitude.

“Holy crap,” she said. “That felt like a shuttle launch, not that I’ve been in a shuttle, but damn. What kind of engines has this thing got?”

“It’s just something we built in the lab,” he said, turning to face her. “We’ve been using this bird as a test chassis, so it’s got all the cool toys in it.”

“Obviously,” she said, trying to guess their speed by watching the landscape passing below. Even being an experienced pilot, it was hard to judge being so far above normal cruising altitude “It felt like we were heading for orbit,” she said.

“Haven’t tried that yet.” he said. “The paperwork’s a bit complex. We stay subsonic and below 75,000 feet just to be safe, but we do attract a little attention sometimes.”

She knew he had to be teasing, but his face gave no clue. Reaching out to another control panel he shut down the turbines, the silence more startling than the crushing acceleration had been. She expected to feel them start to descend but, as if anticipating her thought, he bumped the nose up again into a brief powered climb.

“Mach threshold alert,” the onboard computer warned. Colton slipped his hand back over the controls and they quit accelerating. A few small cities were visible ahead of them and the lights of Phoenix lay far to the west, sprawling like a flaming ocean.

The sky was brightening towards sunrise, making the blackness of the empty landscape below even more profound. “We’re going to swing over New Mexico and make our approach low across the reservation,” he explained. “It’s not likely that anyone will see us, but it’s better not to chance it.”

“What about those choppers back there?” she asked. “Were they close enough to see us take off?”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Unless they’re using laser, they can’t track us, but they’ll be knocking on our door soon enough. All we’re doing is buying time so that we can deal with them on our terms.”

***

Eastbound, Over Texas:

Douglas Shapiro sat, a casual expression masking his thoughts as he stared out the window. As a DHS Field Supervisor, he naturally cataloged details, and even at 42,000 feet, he studied the world around him. It was this aptitude that had helped him work his way up through the Secret Service and into Homeland Security field investigations. He had an eye for detail, and the quick intelligence to sort out problems on the fly.

He was aware of the minute changes in reflection on the window that told him someone was moving around the cabin behind him. A flight steward.

Without turning, he knew Dr. Anthony had a soda. The crackling of ice told him that it had been served warm, in a plastic cup. He also knew from the tang of sweat in the air, that the astronomer was nervous.

Switching into
personable mode
by choice, Shapiro turned to face Carter. It was his job to assess the risk that Dr. Anthony represented to national security and determine whether the scientist was going to be a team player. Unlike the other agents that had handled the scientist since his arrest, Shapiro had been briefed and understood that the astronomer himself wasn’t the threat they faced.

“I’m sorry for the conditions of your arrest this morning,” he began. “I assume that you were treated well?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “but I doubt there’d be any point in complaining.”

“Unfortunately there’s not much I can do to change what’s already happened,” Shapiro said. “I’ve been told that you’re not to be considered a prisoner, unless you intend to be difficult.” He reached over to unlock the cuffs that bound Carter’s hands.

“Again, I doubt there’s any point to that, either,” Carter said, rubbing his wrists.

“I see you’re a realist,” Shapiro said.

The look of anger that flashed across the scientist’s face was not lost on the agent.

“Before we begin,” Douglas said, “let me explain that we’re not your enemy.”

“That’s good to know.” Carter shook his head.

“This morning you were an unknown.” Shapiro opened the folder in his lap. “We’re aware of your work regarding asteroid threat-mitigation, as well as your very public disapproval of the government pulling out of Spaceguard. It was important that we assume control of the situation before word got out.”

“
Assume control?
What a load of euphemistic crap. What you should have said was,
grab my staff at gun point.
” Carter snorted. “Not really the best way to engender trust.”

“It’s not your trust that matters, Doctor, it’s your compliance.” The flatness of Shapiro’s tone cut through the Astronomer’s will to argue with surgical precision. “It’s important to remember that because you’re an American, your help is
expected
. The President need not ask you to lend a hand; she has the right to
insist.

“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” he went on, “but the truth is, your position gives you a head start over any of the other experts we have at our disposal. That makes you the top in your field. For the moment.”

“Oh lucky me,” Carter said. “I was actually trying to decide how to get your attention when you kicked in my door.”

“That may be true,” Shapiro said, “and from here on, I’m sure you’ll find us more considerate of your sensibilities.”

“So where are we going, agent ...?” Carter asked.

“Shapiro, Douglas Shapiro,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m supposed to turn you over to Dr. Stanley as soon as we get to Washington. Then I believe you’re to brief the President.”

Looking down at his sweatshirt and jeans, Carter grinned. “Gee, I forgot to pack my suit before you shanghaied me. I don’t have a thing to wear.”

“That’ll be taken care of,” Shapiro said.

“One more question Doctor,” he added. “We know you had another astronomer on your team.”

Carter nodded.

“We discovered Dr. Cavanaugh’s car at an airport in Marana,” Shapiro said. “Do you know where she went when she left the observatory?”

The astronomer’s face froze, the corners of his eyes drawing down for an instant. Douglas didn’t need to hear any answer to know. The look was as clear as if he’d openly confessed. They had a leak.

“Never mind, Dr. Anthony, it’s not important. We’ll have her located soon enough.”

***

Washington:

The screen in the President’s office showed the same animation she’d seen earlier, but this time Norman Anderson, the Secretary of Homeland Security, and Richard Rogers, the Vice President, were coming to grips with the reality.

She’d briefed them on what she understood, and poured drinks while they digested what it meant. Coffee for Dick, and an herb tea for Norman. Handing them their mugs she was relieved to see they seemed to be absorbing it well.

It was too soon to have any idea of the scientific options available, but they faced an equally critical concern:
controlling panic.

“What we need to decide is how to handle the political and security considerations this presents,” she said, sitting down.

“We can’t go public,” Norman said, without hesitation.

“My concern,” the President said, nodding, “is that we must keep people from freaking out.” She looked into Dick’s eyes expecting disapproval.

“They have a right to know,” the Vice-President said.

“Absolutely,” Norman agreed. “But what happens when we tell them?” He leaned forward.

“I agree,” she said. “Who’d pay their bills or taxes, if they know that it won’t matter in a couple years anyway? What will that do to the economy?”

“You think we can’t stop this?” Dick asked.

“Even if we do,” she said, “we’re going to be face-to-face with a world full of people that’ll be scared witless.”

“I think it’s unrealistic to expect people to sit around and watch without some kind of reaction.” Norman sat back, sipping his tea.

“There are probably some out there that might think they stand to gain if we fail,” she added, Dick’s reaction causing her to smile in spite of the gravity of her words. “Half the countries in the world think they’d be better off without us in their lives.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Norman gasped. “If we’re ground zero, we’ve got the most to lose. One well-timed attack–.”

“Exactly. Jiggle our elbow at a critical moment—“ she said.

“I see your point,” Dick said. “And the rock will do the rest”

“So, how do we draw a line around the problem?” the President said.

“First thing,” Anderson said, “We’ll need an effective cover story to keep the press off our backs. I think it’s safe to say we’ll attract attention, no matter what we do. We’ll also need to move quickly to bring in anyone who knows about this.”

“Al Stanley already provisioned some of your people to get the astronomers from Kitt Peak,” she said.

He stared at her for several seconds. “He did?” the DHS secretary asked. “Who authorized that?”

“I did,” she said, stretching the truth a bit.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll follow up with that immediately.”

“We’re probably going to need a few allies on the Hill,” Dick added. “How much can I say?”

“Nothing,” Norman said.

“As little as necessary,” Sylvia corrected. “We need to make sure that whoever knows, understands the consequences of speaking out. It’s got to be
one voice
when the time comes, and until then we all share the silence.”