Legacy (65 page)

“General, we’re being joined by my old friend and advisor Niles Compton from Ecuador. You two have met on several occasions, I believe. Niles, I’m taking you off this damn laptop and am going to place you on our main monitor. General, dim the windows, please.”

Caulfield hit a button on the console to his front and the windows surrounding the situation room went completely opaque.

Soon the visage of Niles was on the main monitor and he saw the tired and drawn face of the president.

“You look like hell,” Niles said from deep inside the Andes.

“Thank you, baldy. Never let an opportunity slide by to make me feel worse than I already do. I may say the same for you, buddy. It doesn’t look like mining agrees with you.”

“Thanks for the compliment, and no, I hate field work.”

“Niles, your three lieutenants have done one hell of a job stepping up like they did. You heard Flight Director Evans on their status.”

“I did, but they’re one hell of a long way from the finish line. As far as we know they may have people with guns waiting for them before they reach that line.”

“I know, I know. There’s still no word from the Chinese on their attempt to change the chairman’s mind about cooperation.”

“I never thought I would see the day when we could convince the Chinese military to cooperate and have to finagle and make deals with the devil to get the civilian government to deal with us. It’s nuts,” General Caulfield said as he slid the knot in his tie down and unbuttoned the top button of his blue shirt.

“So, there’s still nothing from Beijing?” Niles asked, the worry on his face evident.

“Not a damn thing. Their people could be waiting for ours to step foot on the lunar surface and then massacre them. We just don’t know.”

“Well, we are now in direct contact with our complex, and Colonel Collins is trying to get into the second mine gallery as we speak. Thus far we haven’t turned up any useful information outside of a large grouping of graves onsite, as I have explained to you already.”

“I do have this from the FBI field team in Ecuador.” The president held up a flimsy. The good Reverend Samuel Rawlins and former Army officer James McCabe were found murdered in a Quito hotel room this morning.”

“That means whoever led the strike team against Jack and his men has gone rogue from his employer,” Niles said and shook his head.

“That’s my thinking. Thus far our forces in country haven’t turned up any leadership for the assault force. The FBI believes they may have made their way out of Ecuador. Niles, had the colonel considered the need to bring more men inside the mine? Your telling me of those German graves was a little unsettling. If it’s security he’s worried about, explain that I am giving permission to bring the rest of the SEALs and the British contingent inside. We can control the British through the prime minister.”

Niles lowered his head in thought. Then he looked into the camera.

“I have already given Jack that order. We now have forty personnel in the mine. It’s not only the mass graves we found—I have a feeling that as aggressive as these maniacs have been, they won’t stop at getting back that mine, or at least its contents. And until we know the Chinese intention on the Moon, Operation Columbus is that much more important.”

“Agreed,” said the president.

“I have one bit of information you may want to have that I’ve been reluctant to tell you with all these other concerns.”

“Go ahead, Niles, while I’m numb inside.”

“We had two additions to our ground team here in Ecuador. It seems Garrison Lee and Mrs. Hamilton came along for the ride.”

The president stared into the camera and didn’t say a word. He lowered his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“I’ll bow to whatever you want to do, Niles. If you want them out, I’ll order it.”

Niles became quiet as he mulled over the question. He looked away for a moment, then removed his glasses and placed them on the table. It was as though he were fighting back some very powerful emotions.

“I think maybe he’s earned the right to be anywhere he wants to be. I also think he’s earned the right to hear what this whole mess is about.”

The president looked away for a moment before looking back at a dirty-faced Niles. He took a drink of water.

“I agree. Leave him and Mrs. Hamilton alone.” The president shook his head as he placed the glass of water carefully down on the polished table. “You know, he’s a national treasure, Niles. If he wants to go along, you’re right. He’s earned it.”

OFFICE OF THE CHAIRMAN, BEIJING, CHINA

The chairman of the People’s Republic of China sat at his large, barren desk and read the latest communications from the Moon mission,
Magnificent Dragon
. He smiled as he read the report that the American spacecraft was down and his men were ready to spring the trap that would ensure that China received the greatest edge in technology the world had ever known. He laid the communiqué down and removed his thick glasses. Then he wiped at them with a silk handkerchief that had his initials embroidered on its corners. The handkerchief and two dozen like it had been a birthday present from the president of the United States upon his last visit to China. Now the chairman only hoped he could repay the gift, only not in the way the president would have liked. The eighty-one-year-old chairman had replaced the thick glasses when his intercom buzzed.

He sat silently without moving to answer. His official title was that of president, just like the American, but he privately ordered his subordinates to call him
Chairman,
a title he vastly preferred to President. Its association with the great Mao was in keeping with his power, he thought. The buzz came again from the intercom.

“Yes,” he snapped angrily into the infernal device. He had left instructions with his personal secretary that he not be disturbed.

“The vice chairman of the National People’s Congress and General Guo Boxiong, executive vice chairman of the Central Military Commission, are here to see the chairman,” said his squeaky-voiced personal assistant.

“Very well. Send them in.”

The massive double doors were opened by two Chinese army sergeants. The two men stepped inside the large office and made their way, hats in hand, toward the large and empty desk.

“Vice Chairman Zhaoguo Wang, General Guo, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the fat old man asked as he folded his hands on top of the polished desk.

“The situation on the surface of the Moon, Mr. President,” answered Wang.

The chairman looked angrily at the second most powerful man in China. His scowl was meant to send fear into the much smaller, younger man. His use of the title “President” was meant to cause his temper to rise.

“And what would concern you about the mission?”

“We have made our protests well known. And now we are prepared to take our concerns directly to the ruling body of the movement.”

“Is that so,” he said, as a knock sounded at the doors. He didn’t have to answer as his assistant brought in a silver service tea set.

“May I offer you gentlemen some tea?” he asked, not offering them a seat before his desk.

“We are not here for tea. We are here to make you aware of certain … changes in policy concerning our military preparedness, and our request for cooperation with the Western powers in regards to the recent events in our seas and the continent of Antarctica.”

As the assistant placed a cup in front of the chairman, he glanced up at the two men, and then just as quickly poured the tea. He turned and left the room.

The chairman leaned forward and placed the teacup in both of his aging hands, then blew on its contents.

“So, I assume you have bought into this ridiculous plan of the Americans and their lackeys in Europe, the fear of a fairy tale long gone cold?”

“The evidence they have produced is valid. Our military scientists have verified all aspects of the forwarded documents,” Wang said, watching the old man blow on his tea.

“And it is not only the Western powers that have taken the side of the Americans and their warnings, but our allies as well. We are now alone in our contempt of the situation,” offered the general. “We must cooperate or chance the annihilation of our species in less than three years.” He saw the chairman smile contemptuously. “And that had also been confirmed by our astronomers.”

The chairman finally sipped his tea. He shook his head, savoring the rich taste, and then he sipped again.

“You may leave me. The decision has been made. We move on the American spacecraft inside the hour. You may believe the Americans and their Case Blue warnings, but I have lived through their deceit many times before. We have no imminent threat from regions far beyond this planet. Case Blue is a pack of lies. Good day, gentlemen.”

The two men stood before the chairman without moving. He put the teacup down and raised his eyebrows, wondering why the men weren’t leaving his office.

“I said you may—”

The men didn’t react as the chairman suddenly ceased moving. He tilted his head and raised a shaking, liver-spotted right hand to the top button of his tunic. The question on his age-lined face was evident as he tried to make room for more air that seemed to have disappeared.

The vice chairman reached out and gently, methodically pushed down on the intercom button.

“Please summon the doctor to the chairman’s office, he seems to be in some distress,” Wang said. He let the button pop free, not waiting for the chairman’s assistant to reply.

The old man tried to stand, but faltered as he reached out to steady himself.The two men standing before the chairman stepped back to avoid being hit by the liquid. Finally, the old man settled into his large chair and looked up at the general and his vice chairman.

“You have done many great things for the people,” Wang said. “It is time for you to rest. We thought retirement the best course. Unfortunately, the Western powers would be hesitant to deal with the People’s Republic if you were still alive and angry over your loss of power, so we had to take this to the extreme. It is time we join the league of men who will eventually have to defend this planet from outside forces, and we can’t do that by continuing the old ways.”

The chairman tried desperately to pop free the topmost button of the tunic. When he found no strength in his fingers, his arms fell to his lap. As they did, the double doors opened and three men ran inside. Two attendants flanked the uniformed army doctor as he hurried to the chairman’s side.

“I believe the president is having a heart attack,” the general said. He moved to the far side of the room, placing his hands behind his back.

The army doctor felt the neck for a pulse and then the wrist. The chairman’s eyes were wide open and staring at nothing.

The general looked to his left as guards came rushing inside.

“Please secure the vice chairman of the People’s Party. He is as of now the acting president.”

Wang Zhaoguo stood while two of the guards flanked him just as the doctor straightened and faced the men in the room. Then he looked at his watch, noting the time.

“The chairman is dead.”

MOON SITE CODE-NAMED COLUMBUS CIRCLE

Sarah knew they had a long walk ahead of them, and she had one angry LEM pilot on her hands. Since she was now the mission commander, it had been her duty to inform Jason Ryan that he was no longer a part of the excursion team into Shackleton. His fit lasted three minutes as he tried to stomp his feet in anger, but found he couldn’t find purchase enough in the zero gravity to throw the tantrum in style. Finally, she calmed him enough to make her case as to why he couldn’t come along. He was the only fully trained LEM pilot left, and in order for them to lift off the uppermost decks of
Altair
, they needed Ryan safe and sound aboard the ship.

It had taken the strength of Will Mendenhall to help make Ryan see the light of day. As it was, he sat in the command deck of the LEM and started making his checklist for the eventual liftoff of
Altair
for the rendezvous with
Falcon 1
.

The weapons for the excursion into Shackleton were handed out to the seven Green Berets who made up the lunar surface team, plus Mendenhall and Sarah. One of the deadly devices would be left to Ryan for the defense of
Altair,
in case it was needed. The compressed-air-launched M-39 rocket-assisted projectile weapons were a development of IBC Corporation of Lansing, Michigan. Designed to replace unreliable powder and projectile weapons, including handguns and rifles, the M-39 air-launched a solid kinetic energy shot from its twenty-round magazine, which after it cleared the tungsten barrel became a ballistic assist weapon. A small charge of solid propellant sent the round where it was aimed at six times the speed of sound, allowing the solid metal bullet to penetrate almost anything with up to two inches of armor plate.

Each member of the crew had become adept at targeting the heavy-bore weapon that was equivalent to a .50 caliber steel shot. The stock was solid plastic and the barrel was made of hardened steel designed by Winchester Firearms. The trigger was as large as a household tablespoon and the guard was as large as a jar lid so that a large gloved finger could get access to the trigger. The weapon basically looked like an old-fashioned Henry Repeating Rifle from the Old West, which caused the designers at IBC many a sleepless night after every person on the excursion team laughed at the ancient-looking “modern” weapons they were wielding.