Deception Point Page 57

Where are we? Rachel managed, the simple act of trying to speak bringing on a crashing headache.The man massaging her replied, Youre on the medical deck of a Los Angeles class-On deck some ane called out.Rachel sensed a sudden commotion all around her, and she act to sit up. One of the men in blue helped, propping her up, and pulling the blankets up around her. Rachel rubbed her eyes and saw someone striding into the room.The newcomer was a powerful African-American man. Handsome and authoritative. His uniform was khaki. At ease, he declared, moving toward Rachel, stopping oer her and gazing down at her with strong black eyes. Harold Brown, he said, his voice deep and commanding. schoolmaster of the U.S.S. Charlotte. And you are?U.S.S. Charlotte, Rachel thought. The name check overmed vaguely familiar. Sexton, she replied. Im Rachel Sexton.The man looked puzzled. He stepped closer, studying her more carefully. Ill be damned. So you are.Rachel felt lost. He knows me? Rachel was cer tain she did non key the man, although as her eyes dropped from his face to the patch on his chest, she saw the familiar emblem of an eagle clutching an anchor surrounded by the words U.S. NAVY.It now registered wherefore she knew the name Charlotte.Welcome aboard, Ms. Sexton, the original said. Youve gisted a number of this ships recon reports. I know who you are.But what are you doing in these waters? she stammered.His face hardened somewhat. Frankly, Ms. Sexton, I was almost to ask you the same question.Tolland sat up slowly now, opening his mouth to speak. Rachel silenced him with a firm shake of her head. Not here. Not now. She had no inquiry the first thing Tolland and corky would want to talk about was the meteorite and the attack, only when this was certainly not a topic to discuss in front of a Navy submarine crew. In the world of intelligence, regardless of crisis, CLEARANCE remained king the meteorite situation remained highly classified.I command to speak to NRO director William Pickering, she told the senior pilot. In private, and immediately.The captain arched his eyebrows, apparently unaccustomed to pickings orders on his own ship.I have classified training I need to share.The captain studied her a spacious moment. Lets get your body temperature back, and then Ill put you in contact with the NRO director.Its urgent, sir. I- Rachel stopped short. Her eyes had just seen a clock on the wall over the pharmaceutical closet. 1951 HOURS.Rachel blinked, staring. Is is that clock right?Youre on a navy vessel, maam. Our clocks are accurate.And is that eastern time?751 P.M. Eastern Standard. Were out of Norfolk.My God she thought, stunned. Its only 751 P.M.? Rachel had the impression hours had passed since she passed out. It was not even past eight oclock? The President has not yet gone national about the meteorite I still have time to stop him She immediately slid down off the bed, wrapping the blanket around her. Her legs felt shaky. I need to speak to the President right away.The captain looked confused. The president of what?Of the United StatesI thought you wanted William Pickering.I dont have time. I need the President.The captain did not move, his huge frame blocking her way. My understanding is that the President is about to give a very important live press conference. I doubt hes taking personal phone calls.Rachel stood as straight as she could on her wobbly legs and fixed her eyes on the captain. Sir, you do not have the clearance for me to excuse the situation, but the President is about to make a terrible mistake. I have information he desperately needs to hear. directly. You need to trust me.The captain stared at her a long moment. Frowning, he checked the clock again. Nine minutes? I cant get you a secure connection to the neat syndicate in that short a time. All I could offer is a radiophone. Unsecured. And wed have to go to antenna depth, which will take a few-Do it Now67The White House telephone swit chboard was located on the lower level of the East Wing. Three switchboard operators were always on duty. At the moment, only two were seated at the controls. The third operator was at a full sprint toward the Briefing Room. In her hand, she carried a cordless phone. Shed tried and true to patch the call through to the Oval Office, but the President was already en route to the press conference. Shed tried to call his aides on their cellulars, but before televised briefings, all cellular phones in and around the Briefing Room were turned off so as not to interrupt the proceedings.Running a cordless phone directly to the President at a time like this seemed questionable at best, and yet when the White Houses NRO liaison called claiming she had emergency information that the President must get before going live, the operator had little doubt she needed to jump. The question now was whether she would get there in time.In a small medical office onboard the U.S.S. Charlotte, Rachel Sext on clutched a phone receiver to her ear and waited to talk to the President. Tolland and Corky sat nearby, still looking shaken. Corky had five stitches and a deep bruise on his cheekbone. All three of them had been helped into Thinsulate thermal underwear, heavy navy flight suits, oversized wool socks, and deck boots. With a hot cup of stale coffee in her hand, Rachel was starting to feel almost human again.Whats the holdup? Tolland pressed. Its seven fifty-sixRachel could not imagine. She had successfully reached one of the White House operators, explained who she was and that this was an emergency. The operator seemed sympathetic, had placed Rachel on hold, and was now, supposedly, making it her top priority to patch Rachel through to the President.Four minutes, Rachel thought. Hurry upClosing her eyes, Rachel tried to gather her thoughts. It had been one hell of a day. Im on a nuclear submarine, she said to herself, knowing she was damned lucky to be anywhere at all. correspond to the submarine captain, the Charlotte had been on a routine patrol in the Bering Sea two days ago and had picked up anomalous underwater sounds coming from the Milne folderol Shelf-drilling, jet noise, lots of encrypted radio traffic. They had been redirected and told to lie quietly and listen. An hour or so ago, theyd heard an explosion in the ice shelf and moved in to check it out. That was when they heard Rachels SOS call.Three minutes left Tolland sounded anxious now as he monitored the clock.Rachel was definitely getting nervous now. What was taking so long? Why hadnt the President taken her call? If Zach Herney went public with the data as it stood-Rachel forced the thought from her mind and shook the receiver. Pick upAs the White House operator dashed toward the stage entrance of the Briefing Room, she was met with a gathering throng of staff members. Everyone here was talking excitedly, making final preparations. She could see the President twenty yards away waiting at t he entrance. The makeup people were still primping.Coming through the operator said, trying to get through the crowd. beseech for the President. Excuse me. Coming throughLive in two minutes a media coordinator called out.Clutching the phone, the operator shoved her way toward the President. Call for the President she panted. Coming throughA towering roadblock stepped into her path. Marjorie Tench. The senior advisers long face grimaced down in disapproval. Whats going on?