Deception Point Page 97

Rachel inserted the entire stack into the hydrolabs telefax machine. Knowing only a few fax numbers by heart, she had limited cho scratchs, but she had al induce made up her mind who would be receiving these pages and her note. Holding her breath, she carefully typed in the persons fax number.She pressed send, praying she had chosen the receiving system wisely.The fax machine beeped.ERROR NO DIAL TONERachel had expect this. The Goyas communications were still being jammed. She stood waiting and watching the machine, hoping it functi stard standardized hers at home.Come onAfter five seconds, the machine beeped again.REDIALINGYes Rachel watched the machine go into an endless loop.ERROR NO DIAL TONEREDIALINGERROR NO DIAL TONEREDIALINGLeaving the fax machine in assay of a dial tone, Rachel dashed let on of the hydrolab just as cleaver blades thundered overhead.119One hundred and sixty miles away from the Goya, Gabrielle Ashe was staring at Senator sextons calculating machine sc reen in mute astonishment. Her suspicions had been right. barely she had never imagined how right.She was looking at digital scans of dozens of bank checks written to Sexton from private space companies and deposited in numbered accounts in the Cayman Islands. The sm tout ensembleest check Gabrielle saw was for fifteen 1000 dollars. Several were upward of half a million dollars.Small potatoes, Sexton had told her. All the donations are under the two-thousand-dollar cap.Obviously Sexton had been lying all along. Gabrielle was looking at illegal campaign financing on an capacious scale. The pangs of betrayal and disillusionment settled hard now in her heart. He lied.She felt stupid. She felt dirty. But most of all she felt mad.Gabrielle sit alone in the darkness, realizing she had no idea what to do next.120 higher up the Goya, as the Kiowa banked over the stern pad, Delta-One gazed down, his eyes fixating on an utterly unpredicted vision.Michael Tolland was standing on deck besi de a small submersible. Dangling in the subs robotic arms, as if in the clutches of a giant insect, hung Delta-Two, struggling in vain to free himself from two enormous claws.What in the name of beau ideal?Equally as shocking an image, Rachel Sexton had just arrived on deck, pickings up a position over a bound and release man at the foot of the submersible. The man could only be Delta-Three. Rachel held one of the Delta Forces machine guns on him and stared up at the chopper as if boldness them to attack.Delta-One felt momentarily disoriented, unable to fathom how this possibly could have happened. The Delta Forces errors on the ice shelf earlier had been a rare but explicable occurrence. This, however, was unimaginable.Delta-Ones humiliation would have been excruciating enough under normal circumstances. But tonight his shame was magnified by the presence of another singular riding with him inside the chopper, a person whose presence here was passing unconventional.The compt roller.Following the Deltas kill at the FDR Memorial, the controller had ordered Delta-One to fly to a deserted public park not far from the White House. On the controllers command, Delta-One had set down on a grassy knoll among about trees just as the controller, having parked nearby, strode out of the darkness and boarded the Kiowa. They were all en route again in a matter of seconds.Although a controllers comport involvement in mission operations was rare, Delta-One could hardly complain. The controller, distressed by the way the Delta Force had handled the kills on the Milne Ice Shelf and fearing increasing suspicions and examen from a number of parties, had informed Delta-One that the final phase of the operation would be overseen in person.Now the controller was riding shotgun, witnessing in person a failure the uniforms of which Delta-One had never endured.This must end. Now.The controller gazed down from the Kiowa at the deck of the Goya and wondered how this could possi bly have happened. Nothing had gone properly-the suspicions about the meteorite, the failed Delta kills on the ice shelf, the necessity of the high-profile kill at the FDR.Controller, Delta-One stammered, his tone one of stunned outrage as he looked at the situation on the deck of the Goya. I cannot imagine Nor can I, the controller thought. Their quarry had obviously been grossly underestimated.The controller looked down at Rachel Sexton, who stared up blankly at the choppers reflective windscreen and raised a CrypTalk device to her mouth. When her synthesized portion crackled inside the Kiowa, the controller evaluate her to demand that the chopper back off or extinguish the jam system so Tolland could call for help. But the words Rachel Sexton speak were far more chilling.Youre too late, she said. Were not the only ones who know.The words echoed for a moment inside the chopper. Although the claim seemed far-fetched, the faintest possibility of truth gave the controller pause. The triumph of the entire project required the elimination of all those who knew the truth, and as fucking(a) as the containment had turned out to be, the controller had to be certain this was the conclusion. psyche else knowsConsidering Rachel Sextons reputation for following strict protocol of classified data, the controller take down out it very hard to believe that she would have decided to share this with an immaterial source.Rachel was on the CrypTalk again. Back off and well spare your men. Come any scalelike and they die. Either way, the truth comes out. Cut your bolshyes. Back off.Youre bluffing, the controller said, knowing the voice Rachel Sexton was hearing was an androgynous robotic tone. You have told no one.Are you ready to take that chance? Rachel fired back. I couldnt get through to William Pickering earlier, so I got spooked and took out some insurance.The controller frowned. It was plausible.Theyre not buying it, Rachel said, glancing at Tolland.The soldie r in the claws gave a pained smirk. Your gun is empty, and the choppers going to err you to hell. Youre both going to die. Your only hope is to let us go. uniform hell, Rachel thought, trying to assess their next move. She looked at the bound and gagged man who lay at her feet directly in front of the sub. He looked delirious from loss of blood. She crouched beside him, looking into the mans hard eyes. Im going to take off your gag and take charge the CrypTalk youre going to convince the helicopter to back off. Is that clear?The man nodded earnestly.Rachel pulled out the mans gag. The soldier spat a wad of bloody saliva up into Rachels face.Bitch, he hissed, coughing. Im going to watch you die. Theyre going to kill you like a pig, and Im going to enjoy every minute.Rachel wiped the hot saliva from her face as she felt Tollands hands lifting her away, pulling her back, steadying her as he took her machine gun. She could feel in his trembling touch that something inside him had just snapped. Tolland walked to a control panel a few yards away, put his hand on a lever, and locked eyes with the man lying on the deck.Strike two, Tolland said. And on my ship, thats all you get.With a resolute rage, Tolland yanked down on the lever. A grand trapdoor in the deck beneath the Triton fell open like the floor of a gallows. The bound soldier gave a short howling of fear and then disappeared, plummeting through the hole. He fell thirty feet to the oceanic below. The splash was crimson. The sharks were on him instantly.The controller shook with rage, looking down from the Kiowa at what was left of Delta-Threes body drifting out from under the boat on the strong current. The illuminated water was pink. Several fish fought over something that looked like an arm.