Deep Storm (19 page)

And youre positive? That this account you found describes the actual burial, I mean.

Theres no way to be sure.

Can I read it?

Ill get a copy to you. But the point is this: assuming it does describe the burial event, this eyewitness account is about as clear a go slow message as I can imagine.

Crane shrugged. Makes sense. Especially since you havent yet deciphered the digital signal.

Except the Navy keeps moving ahead with greater and greater speed. Admiral Spartan and I dont see eye to eye on the matter. His worst fear is that other nations will learn of the discovery. He wants the object exposed and penetrated with all possible speed, and samples of whatevers inside retrieved for study.

Does anybody else outside the classified sector know of this?

A few. Rumors circulate. Most suspect its more than Atlantis. Abruptly, Asher rose and began pacing. Anyway, theres another reason for caution. We know that the crust is composed of three layers the sediment layer, the basement layer, and the oceanic layer. Weve dug through the first two and are almost into the third and deepest layer. Below that is the Moho. The thing is, nobody really knows for certain what the Moho is, or what will happen when we hit it. We need to proceed with caution. But the more Ive protested, the more I and the NOS have been marginalized. More military are arriving now, and theyre no longer regular Navy. Theyre black ops and very scary.

People like Korolis, Crane said.

At the name, a look of anger passed briefly over Ashers face. Korolis requested them, and theyre reporting directly to him. In any case, my fear is that Spartan may soon take full command of the operation, with Korolis as his enforcer. If I object too loudly, I might be relieved of my position, expelled from the station. Asher stopped pacing and stared at Crane. And thats where you come in.

Crane stared back in surprise. Me?

Im very sorry, Peter. I never wanted to burden you with this knowledge or this responsibility. Id hoped the medical problem would be solved quickly and you could return to the surface, still believing wed found Atlantis. But with the discovery of this eyewitness account, and given Spartans increasingly aggressive behaviorwell, youre the only option I have left.

But why me? Youre taking a huge risk just by telling me all this.

Asher smiled wearily. I did my homework, remember? My people are scientists. Theyre too intimidated by men like Korolis to ever help me. But you: youre not only qualified to treat undersea ailments, you also served on an intelligence-gathering submarine. And Im afraid thats just what this might soon become: an intelligence mission. And maybe more.

What do you mean?

I mean that every day, theyre getting closer to the Moho. I cant wait any longer. One way or another, we have to know whats down there before Spartans digging machines get to it.

What makes you sure Ill fall in on your side? Im ex-military, as you point out. I might agree with Admiral Spartan.

Asher shook his head. Not you. Now, listen dont repeat a word of this to anybody. He hesitated. Maybe none of this will be necessary. Maybe our analysts will finish decrypting those markers tomorrow, or the next day, and all Ive said will become moot. He nodded at the man standing beside the evidence locker, who throughout the conversation hadnt said a single word. This is John Marris. Hes my own cryptanalyst, and hes working night and day on the problem. Now, what I want you to do

At that moment, a sharp rap sounded on the door. It was repeated again, and then again.

Crane looked at Asher. The chief scientist had frozen in place beside the chair, his lined face suddenly pale. He gave his head a violent shake.

Another rap, louder, more insistent. Dr. Crane! boomed a gravelly voice from the corridor.

Crane turned toward the door.

Wait! Asher said in a low, urgent voice.

But at that moment the door opened. And Admiral Spartan stood silhouetted in the light of the corridor, a red all-access passcard in his hand, flanked by marines with M1 carbines in their hands.

Chapter 21

Spartan looked from Crane to Asher and back again, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step into the room.

Am I interrupting something? he asked.

The room fell uncomfortably silent. Crane glanced at Asher, who had the stunned look of a deer caught in a pair of headlights.

When there was no answer, Admiral Spartan turned to the marines. Take him outside, he said, pointing at Crane.

One of the marines beckoned Crane forward with his rifle barrel. Crane swallowed painfully. The wonder of the last several minutes had evaporated, replaced by a painful sense of vulnerability.

He stepped into the hall with a sinking feeling. Spartan closed and locked the door behind him.

Crane waited in the narrow passageway, the marines standing silently on either side. His mouth was dry, and his heart raced uncomfortably in his chest. Sounds of raised voices began to filter through the door; he listened intently but could not make out the words. What is happening? He wasnt sure who to feel more worried about: himself or the old man in his room.

Five dreadful minutes passed. Then the door opened and Spartan emerged. He glared at Crane. Come with me, Doctor, he said.

Where are we going?

You will find it easier to just follow orders was the clipped response.

Cranes eyes strayed back to the rifles in the hands of the marines. Clearly, he had no recourse but to obey. He marched down the corridor behind Spartan, the marines swinging into place behind him. A few passing technicians stopped to stare at their little parade. Where? Crane began again, then stopped himself. Anything he said now would just dig the hole even deeper. Far better to say nothing, nothing at alluntil he had to.

But the silent questions remained. How much does Spartan know? What did Asher tell him? Theyd no doubt looked guilty as hell: three conspirators, meeting in secret

This was, at heart, a military operation. Hed signed an awful lot of agreements up on the oil platform: God only knew what kind of personal rights hed waived. It occured to him, with an unpleasant chill, that even if Spartan didnt know everything he no doubt had the means, the techniques and, most likely, the right to find out whatever he wanted.

They stopped before an elevator. The guards took up positions on either side while Spartan pressed the down button. Within moments the doors whisked open; Spartan stepped in, waited for the guards to usher Crane inside, then pressed the button for deck 7 the lowest non-classified level on the Facility.

What was it Asher had just told him? Spartan may soon take full command of the operation, with Korolis as his enforcer. Crane struggled to regulate his breathing, appear calm.

The elevator drifted to a stop and the doors rolled back onto deck 7. Spartan stepped out and led the way to an unlabeled door. He opened it with his red passcard while the marines once again took up positions on either side.

The room beyond was small and bare, the only furniture a long table with two chairs set along the near side. Behind the chairs were two huge, free-standing lights, their bulbs backed by metal reflectors. They were both aimed at a spot on the far wall a spot that was approximately head level. Seeing these lights, Crane felt his heart begin to race even faster. His worst fears were confirmed.

Walk over to the far wall, Dr. Crane, Spartan said in an expressionless voice.

Crane walked slowly to the wall.

Turn around, please.

Crane did as ordered.

There was a sudden, metallic snap as both lights burst into brilliance, almost physically pinning him against the wall with their candlepower. He squinted and instinctively raised his hand to his eyes.

Stand still, Dr. Crane, came the voice of Spartan, invisible behind the wall of white light.

Cranes mind began to work frantically. Stay calm, he told himself. Stay calm. What did he have to worry about? He was a member of the medical staff. He was supposed to be here. It wasnt like he was a spy or anything

But then he remembered the deadly serious security at the Barrier, the fear hed just seen on Ashers face.

From behind the wall of light came a single click. There was a moment of stasis. And then, one after the other, the spotlights went out.

Have a seat, Doctor, said Spartan. He was seated at the table now, and a folder Crane had not noticed before was open in front of him.

Warily, heart still hammering, Crane took the empty seat. Spartan put his hand on the folder and pushed it toward him. It contained a single sheet of paper with about four paragraphs of text beneath a Department of Defense letterhead.

Sign at the bottom, please, Spartan said. And he placed a gold pen carefully on the table.

I already signed everything when I was topside, Crane said.

Spartan shook his head. You didnt sign this.

May I read it first?

I wouldnt suggest it. Youll just frighten yourself needlessly.

Crane picked up the pen, reached for the paper, hesitated. A little distantly, he wondered if he was signing an admission of guilt pro res before hed even confessed to harboring secret knowledge. He realized it made little difference. Taking a deep breath, he signed the sheet and pushed it back to Spartan.

The admiral closed the folder and squared it sharply on the table. Just at that moment, a knock sounded on the door.

Come in, Spartan said.

The door opened and a naval officer stepped inside. He saluted Spartan, handed him a white envelope, saluted a second time, then turned and left the room.

Spartan held up the envelope, letting it dangle from his thumb and index finger. Then almost teasingly he extended his arm toward Crane.

Crane took the envelope gingerly.

Open it, Spartan said.

After a moments hesitation, Crane tore away one edge of the envelope and upended it into his hand. A plastic wafer like a credit card, only thicker fell out. One side was clear, and he could see a forest of microchips embedded within. He turned it over to find his own face staring up as he had looked minutes before, blinded by the lights. There was a bar code beneath this photograph and the words RESTRICTED ACCESS printed in red beside them. A brass clip was fastened to one end.

That, along with retinal and finger-matrix scans, will allow you past the Barrier, Spartan said. Keep it safe, Doctor, and on your person at all times. There are very severe penalties for losing such a card or letting it fall into the wrong hands.

Im not sure I understand, Crane said.

Im authorizing you access to the classified section of the Facility. Over the advice of Commander Korolis, I might add.

Crane stared at the ID card as relief flooded over him. Oh, God, he thought. Oh, my God. This place is making me paranoid.

I see, he said, still a little stupid from surprise. Then: Thank you.

Why? Spartan asked. What did you think was happening?

And Crane could have sworn that just for an instant a bemused smile flitted across the admirals features before they dissolved once again into impassivity.

Chapter 22

Forty miles off the coast of Greenland, the Storm King oil platform hovered stoically between squall-dark skies and the angry sea. A passing vessel or, more likely, a reconnaissance satellite, its orbit re-tasked by a curious foreign government would notice nothing unusual. A few riggers moved slowly around the platforms superstructure, appearing to work the derricks or inspect equipment. But by and large, Storm King seemed as quiet as the surrounding sea was restless. It looked as if the giant platform was asleep.