Shadow of Eden (51 page)

“Valenti, look,” Steve pointed at a beautiful woman at the bar engaged in conversation with a handsome, slickly dressed man.

“Nice,” Valenti said appreciatively. “I thought you were lonely for your wife.”

“Shut up, you letch. Look again.”

Valenti looked back at the woman whose face suddenly jerked several times in succession like a flurry of tics. Her hands hurried to cover the twitching and her look of embarrassment. Valenti’s smile vanished. “Wow. Do you think she has . . .?”

“I’d bet on it. I’m going to go talk to her.” Steve started to get up.

“Stop,” Valenti grabbed his arm. “Are you stupid? First, her date’s likely to punch your lights out. Two, you are in deep hiding and you can blow it right here. Third, and most important, she’d laugh at you. You like being laughed at by a woman?”

“But she’s got to know.”

“Look, Doc, even if you’re right, what can you do about it? Think.”

“But . . .” Steve protested, even as he realized the truth in Valenti words. What would he say to her? Anything he told her would either sound like lunacy or seriously frighten her. How would he feel if a stranger came up and told him he had a terminal disease?

Castell slid in next to Valenti, across from Steve. “Nice view, gentlemen?” He nodded at the woman they had been watching. Valenti looked chagrinned at having missed Castell’s arrival and quickly surveyed the area.

“Sorry I’m late,” Castell said, helping himself to the bowl of honey-roasted cashews sitting in the center of the table. “Phone rings and I’m stuck on another important call.” He popped a nut into his mouth. “How are you, Dr. James? You look different. I almost didn’t recognize you.” He shook Steve’s hand, then to Valenti, “Jacob Castell.”

“Tony Valenti.” They briefly shook hands.

Turning back to Steve, Castell asked. “So, what is on your mind, Dr. James?” He reached for another handful of cashews.

“You remember the Captain?”

“Of course. I’ll never forget it. You saved all our lives.”

“I know what’s wrong with him. He has a prion disease like Mad Cow.”

“What? Do we have human Mad Cow disease in the United States? Are you sure?”

“Not Mad Cow, Mr. Secretary, but like it. It’s caused by a drug.”

“Really? What drug?”

“Eden.”

Chapter 111

P
resident Dixon, followed by Bell, strolled into the Oval Office. John Sullivan, Linda Resnick, Mark Painter, August Crusoe, Treasury Secretary Helen Norris, and Joint Chiefs Chairman General Valenzuela all stood as he entered. Each had been briefed before the meeting about the call from Ambassador Gung. The President, wearing rumpled clothing, took his place in the seat by the fireplace.

“Why all the long faces?” he asked.

Resnick spoke. “I called this meeting because I have bad news. The Chinese Ambassador just called and because of our refusal to negotiate on a compromise over Taiwan’s independence, the Chinese have issued an ultimatum. We have twelve hours before they launch their so-called liberation attack, unless we roll back our position to substantially the way it was before Taiwan’s independence bid.”

“No way—” the President began.

“In addition,” Resnick continued, “they are initiating a total embargo of any exchange of people, money, or goods between China and Taiwan and the U.S., in essence, creating financial and human hostages.”

Painter leaned forward on the couch, his elbows on his knees. “Mr. President, they’ve planned this for a long time and have been executing their strategy for the past two weeks. We just figured it out and we’re going to get creamed. Not only that, but China’s plans include an invasion of Taiwan. We strongly believe they will be successful.”

The President frowned at him. “Bullshit. They cannot hold a candle to us. You all have said so many times.”

The Secretary of Defense shifted uncomfortably. “That was our belief at the time. We have had to revise our estimations based on new intelligence. We believe they can defeat our carrier fleet where it sits in the Taiwan Straits. We’re in their backyard, sir, within range of their coastal missiles and a determined attack by air. The fleet is a sitting duck. Not only that, their invasion strategy is likely to succeed. So we lose the fleet and the Island.”

Turning to Resnick, the clearly irritated President questioned, “What’s Taiwan’s position on all this?”

“Even though they have not changed their position, I believe they underestimate the magnitude of the threat arrayed against them. I think they have an unjustified belief of our carrier fleet’s capabilities.”

Dixon listened carefully to Resnick, causing her to believe that she had made some impression. “The Taiwanese are still committed?”

“Yes, but—”

“Augie?” Dixon turned to look at his National Security Advisor.

Crusoe nodded. “I’m in agreement with the rest.”

“Well, the answer’s no. We’re not going to change our plans. I have a hard time believing the peril is as great as you say. And the US does not abandon its friends, not on my watch.”

“But the Strait’s a no-man’s land, sir,” Valenzuela urged. “At least pull them back behind Taiwan. If we move now, they can be in a more defensible position in twelve hours.”

The President shook his head. “No. I’m not going to discuss this again. The people of Taiwan are not going to be shields for the United States Navy. Besides, how can we interdict an invasion force if we’re on the wrong side of the Island?”

Linda listened to Valenzuela and Painter. If she were convinced by the information, why wasn’t the President? With a sinking feeling, she realized there would be no negotiated settlement to this crisis.

Treasury Secretary Helen Norris spoke. “Even if the military predictions don’t come true, our economy is too tightly linked with China’s. We’d have another recession on our hands, not to mention the devastation of Taiwan’s whole—”

President Dixon had a spasm of twitches in his face and arms. It was worse than anything Resnick had seen before. Everybody stared. After a moment they stopped and Dixon, clearly embarrassed, looked around the room. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I think we’re done here.” He started to stand, but stopped when Sullivan held up his hand.

“Mr. President, Congress is deeply split on your decision, but the vast majority are against it. They are calling for a cutoff of funds for the fleet. This would be political suicide and the end of any possible second term.”

The President stared at his Vice President a moment and then answered softly. “This is too important to deviate.”

Painter said, “Sir, I have concerns that this may go nuclear. We may face options we don’t want.”

“Nuclear?” The President’s face twitched lightly several times as he spoke. “Really, now. We’d rain so many on them they would never need birth control again. The fleet is armed with tactical nukes? I authorize their use.”

Sullivan face paled. “Sir? It would be far better to help Taiwan negotiate a favorable deal now while China thinks we may go to the mat for them. I believe if we tell China we’ll return to our support of the previous arrangement, Taiwan maintains their security with our non-invasion guarantee and China has no need to invade.”

“Enough,” Dixon barked sharply. “I’m done here. I suggest you make sure we are prepared for whatever the Chinese throw at us. I’ll be interested in your reports.” He stood up and walked out.

Bell looked around the room at the shocked faces. He got up and followed the President out the door.

In the adjoining restroom, he found Dixon washing his face over the marble basin. Bell hesitated, composing his words. “Bob, I have some concern that you are not feeling as well as you should.”

“Nonsense, I feel great, never better.” Dixon said in a hearty voice. “My last doctor’s appointment, as you know, was flawless.”

“I’m aware of that, but your concentration is not what it used to be and, uh, you’ve had these twitches.”

Dixon dried his face deliberately before looking at his Chief of Staff. “And you question my judgment.”

Bell felt the frustration of the last several weeks begin to bubble up. “You don’t seem right to me and frankly Bob, we’re all worried about you. What about your sudden spontaneous car rides without the Secret Service?”

Dixon folded the hand towel and replaced it on the bar with care. “Just keeping them on their toes. If they can’t keep up with a fifty-nine year old man, then fuck them. I need the space sometimes. I need time away to think without meddling.” He dropped his voice. “Time to pray . . .”

Bell struggled with his failure to reach the man with whom he had done so much. Reason and logic, Dixon’s strengths, weren’t working. What else could he say?

The President raised his voice. “Leave me alone.”

“Bob,” Bell pleaded, “I’m your friend. Talk to me. Tell me why you won’t bend?” But, by then, the President had turned his back. Bell stared at him for a long minute. “You’re abandoning your men in uniform to slaughter at the hands of the Chinese. You’re their Commander in Chief. By God, act like one and get them out of there. Take the advice of your entire Security Council and make the right decision.”

Dixon did not move. “I have made a commitment to Taiwan. As the voice of the United States, that damn well ought to mean something.”

“You have a commitment to the people of the United States and to the carrier fleet. China’s got a good plan. It won’t help your Taiwanese buddies overwhelmed by waves of Chinese troops pouring onto their island after they trample our Navy on the way in. Then what?”

The President, twitching, held onto the sink for support. He still did not turn around and face his friend. “I have made my decision. Please go.”

“With all respect, sir, are you still capable of making the right decisions? There’s a lot at stake here.”

“The honor and commitment of a promise made by the United States is at issue.” Dixon’s voice was a whisper, barely audible. “My decision stands.”

Chapter 112

S
teve stared at Jacob Castell for a long moment. The Secretary didn’t seem to be surprised. It should have knocked him over.

“Eden?” Castell repeated, a bit too smoothly. “Of course not, Dr. James, surely you are mistaken.” He sounded like he was trying to convince Steve.

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. “I’ve got proof.”

Castell frowned. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. We have people dying from a prion infection in their brain and they were all taking Eden. You need to understand that there is a deadly disease out there and the public hasn’t a clue that their medicine may be killing them.”

“Good God. This is too much.” It was more an expression of exasperation than concern.

“It’s a lot to swallow, sir, but Dr. Amos Sheridan of Sheridan Labs did the testing. It’s here in these reports.” Steve slid over a data CD to Castell.

Castell picked up the disk in its sleeve and examined it as if it would speak to him. “I’ll have my scientists look into this. I just don’t—”

“Dr. Sheridan put Eden in nerve cell cultures and they got prions. Eden acts like a catalyst for the conversion.”

“Really.” Castell looked plainly unconvinced.

This was going far worse than Steve had hoped. But he had no other course. “There’s more, Mr. Secretary. This Eden’s disease,” Steve paused making sure he had Castell’s full attention. “I believe the President has it, too.”

This time, the Secretary’s eyes widened. “The President?”

“Look, Mr. Secretary, all the cases start out with twitches and impaired judgment. I saw President Dixon on TV. His twitches are the same as the pilot’s. You’ve seen them. And you know about his failing judgment with Taiwan, his policy errors, and the efforts to keep him away from public appearances. You know something’s wrong with him. I think it’s a prion disease.”

Castell started to speak, but Steve continued.

“No, listen. He’s going to get worse. It’s incurable—all prion diseases are. Mr. Secretary, we are moving towards a possible fight with China with a President who is losing his ability to lead.”

Castell didn’t respond.

“Get him to his doctor. There’s a test that can diagnose him. An MRI or a lumbar puncture. The NIH has a test on CSF for prions. That’s all I ask.”