Red (26 page)

“So you're saying that your wife, this wife in your dreams, is somehow connected to Monique de Raison. Is that right?” Clarice said.

He sensed that she wanted to believe him. Maybe a part of her did believe him. But the twinkle in her eyes betrayed more than a little doubt.

He looked at the president. “Mr. President, permission to be blunt, Sir.”

“Of course.”

A woman dressed in a black suit slipped in and whispered something in the president's ear.

“When?”

“In the last two minutes.”

He turned to the CIA director. “Phil, I think you're needed. We just received word from the French. Find out what's going on and get back in here as soon as you have the picture.”

“I knew it,” Grant muttered. “Those sons of . . .” He left the office with the lady in black.

“The French?” Kreet said. “We were right?”

“Don't know.” President Blair looked at Thomas. “Five of their leaders including the president and the prime minister were seen walking into an unscheduled meeting yesterday. Only four came out. Some are saying that President Henri Gaetan is no longer who he was yesterday.”

“A coup?”

“That's a bit premature,” Kreet said. “But it wouldn't surprise us if elements of the French government weren't somehow connected to Svensson.”

The president stood and walked to his desk, one hand in his pocket. He rapped the top of his desk, sat against it, and folded his arms.

“Okay, Thomas. Fire away. Tell me why I should listen to you.”

“Honestly, I'm not saying that you should. Two weeks ago I was trying to pay rent by holding down a job at the Java Hut in Denver.”

“That's not what I need. Why should I listen to you?”

Thomas hesitated. He stood and walked around the couch.

“I'm the only one here who's seeing both sides of history. As the only person seeing both sides of history, there's a good chance that I'm also the only one who can
change
that history. I don't know that as a fact, but I'm fairly confident it's true. If I can't change history, then billions of people, including you, will soon be dead.”

The chief of staff raised an eyebrow.

“These are the facts,” Thomas said. “And the more time I spend justifying myself, the less time I have to change history.”

His delivery seemed to have taken the president off guard. He stared at Thomas silently.

It did sound awfully arrogant,
Thomas thought. With his own people, as the supreme commander of the Forest Guard, this kind of presentation would be expected. But here he was still the kid from Denver who had flipped out. At least to some. He only hoped the president wasn't among them.

A slight grin nudged Robert Blair's mouth. “Now that's what I call spunk. I pray to God you're wrong about all of this, but I have to agree that in a strange way you actually make sense.”

“Then I'll tell you more, if you like.”

“I'm all ears.”

Thomas walked to a painting of Abraham Lincoln and faced them again. “I'm sure your people have considered this already, but I've had more time than most of them to think this through. Clearly, it's just a matter of time before the rest of the world discovers what's happening. You can't hide the kind of arms movement Svensson is demanding from the press for long. When they do learn of it, the world will begin to fracture. There's no telling what kind of chaos will ensue. Pressure to comply with Svensson's demands will become astronomical. So will pressure to launch a preemptive strike. Both will end badly.”

“And exactly what scenario won't end badly?” the president asked. “You may have given this a lot of thought, son, but I'm not sure you can appreciate the full complexity of the situation.”

“Then tell me.”

Kreet cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but I really don't think this is the best use of—”

The president held up his hand. “It's okay, Ron. I want him to hear this.”

He turned to Thomas. “For starters, short of invoking emergency powers, I don't run this country alone. It's a republic, remember? I can't just do what I want to.”

“You can and you have to. Invoke emergency powers.”

“I may. In the meantime, the virus has cropped up in over a hundred of our cities. The CDC and the World Health Organization are up to their eyeballs in data they can't begin to unravel in any amount of reasonable time. Apart from this premonition of yours called Cyclops, we have no clue where Svensson's hiding out, assuming he's the person we should be looking for. Dwight Olsen's opposition is already circling the wagons. Knowing him, he'll find a way to blame this whole mess on me and bog down my emergency powers. There are already rumblings of a preemptive nuclear strike, and I think Dwight might reverse himself on this one. If we go down, we go down fighting. You know the drill, and I'm not sure I disagree. Even if we give in to these ridiculous demands of this New Allegiance of theirs, we have no guarantee that they'll give us the antivirus.”

“They won't. Which is why you can't give in.”

“You know this from these books?”

“If I were their strategist and you were the Horde—if you were my enemy—I wouldn't give you the antivirus. The instruments of battle have changed, but not the minds behind them. It also explains why over half the world's population is wiped out by the virus according to the histories. They plan to give out the antivirus selectively, regardless of any promise to the contrary. I'm quite sure you're not at the top of their list of favorite people.”

Clarice stood and crossed the floor. There were now three on the gold carpet—only Kreet remained in his chair. “So you insist we don't give in to their demands, and you insist we don't wage war, assuming we ever pin down a target. What, then?”

The president acknowledged her question with a nod and looked at Thomas evenly.

“I doubt very much any conventional solution will change anything. They would have been tried in the histories and failed. My solution requires you to believe me. I understand that's the challenge here, but in the end you'll find it's the only way.”

“Be more specific, Thomas,” the president said. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“First, believe me when I say I know where Monique is. She is your key to securing the antivirus. Second, do whatever is necessary to prevent both nuclear war and the international community's capitulation to Svensson's demands. Bluff if you have to. Start the nuclear weapons on their way. Withhold enough weapons for a credible threat, and if we have no solution when the weapons actually reach their destination—”

“You sound like you know that destination,” the president said.

“If I were them, I would choose a European country, for a list of reasons I could give you if you want. France would be ideal.”

The president frowned. “Continue.”

“If we still have no solution by the time the weapons reach their destination, then pull back. You'll have to persuade other nuclear powers that are closer to France, if I'm right, like England and Israel, to actually send their weapons. If they don't at least appear to cooperate, then we'll have a nuclear war on our hands, and more than the virus will kill people by the millions.”

Robert Blair glanced at Ron Kreet. The chief of staff turned his head skeptically. “Israel won't go for it.”

“Which is why you begin building the coalition immediately, starting with Israel,” Thomas said. “I mean today. You have to commit to this now.”

“I still don't hear a plan, Thomas,” Clarice said.

Thomas looked at all three. They were lost, he realized. Not that he wasn't, but he did have a slight advantage.

“My plan is for you to delay them by all possible means of trickery and diplomacy and hope that
I
can find a way to stop them.”

For a long time they were either too embarrassed or too impressed to respond. Surely the former.

“Let me take a team to Cyclops,” he said. “If I'm right, we'll find her. If I'm wrong, I can still relay information from the Books of Histories back to you when I get my hands on them. My remaining here is pointless.”

“Even if we do send a team,” Kreet said, “I don't see how you're qualified to lead our Rangers. How far do you expect us to go with this . . . dreaming of yours?”

“I think he may be on to something,” the president said. “Finish.”

“Maybe I could show you something,” Thomas said, walking to the center of the room. He glanced at the ceiling. “If you check, you'll find that I have no acrobatics training. I did learn martial arts in the Philippines, but trust me, I could never move like I've learned to move in my dreams while leading the Guard. Stand back.”

They glanced at each other, then cautiously stepped back.

Thomas took a single step and launched himself into the air, flipped through one and a half rotations with a full twist, landed on his hands, and held the stand for a count of three before reversing the entire move.

They stared at him, gawking like schoolchildren who had just seen a magic show.

“Maybe one more,” Thomas said, “just so you're sure. Pick up that letter opener”—he nodded at a brass blade on the desk—“and throw it at me. As hard as you can.”

“No, it's quite all right.” The president looked a little embarrassed. “I'd hate to miss and stick the wall.”

“I won't let you.”

“You've made your point.”

“Go ahead, Bob,” Clarice said. She eyed Thomas with a new kind of interest. “Why not?”

“Just hurl it at you?”

“As hard as you possibly can. Trust me, there's no way you can hurt me with it. This isn't a ten-foot sickle or a bronze sword. It's hardly a toy.”

The president picked up the letter opener, glanced at a grinning Clarice, and hurled the blade. Blair had been an athlete and this blade wasn't traveling slowly.

Thomas caught it by its hilt, an inch from his chest. He held it steady.

“You see, the skills I learn in my dreams are real.” He tossed the letter opener back. “The information I learn is as real. I need to lead the team because there's a possibility I may be the only one alive who can get to Monique. I should be on my way already.”

The door opened. Phil Grant entered, face drawn.

“We have twenty-four hours to show movement of our arms. The destination is now the Brest naval base in northern France. The government claims they are cooperating with Svensson only because they have no choice. All communications to the matter must be held in strictest confidence. The media must not be alerted. They are working on a solution, but until they come up with one, they insist we must cooperate. In a nutshell that's it.”

“They're lying,” Thomas said. The others looked at him.

The president faced his chief of staff. “Ron?”

“They probably are lying. But it really doesn't matter either way. Even if Svensson is holding hands with Gaetan himself, we can't very well drop nukes on France, can we?”

The president walked around his desk and dropped into his chair. “Okay, Thomas. I'm authorizing the removal and transportation of the weapons they've demanded. I have a meeting with the joint chiefs in an hour. Until someone offers a reasonable argument to the contrary, we do it your way.”

He set his elbows on the desk and nervously tapped his fingers together. “Not a word about any of this dream stuff to anyone. Clear? That includes you, Thomas. No more tricks. You go on assignment from this office and you go with my clearance; that's all anyone needs to know.”

“Agreed,” Thomas said.

“Phil, get him a clearance. I want him in Fort Bragg by chopper as soon as possible. I'll make sure they give you whatever you need. It's a long haul to Indonesia—make the plans you need in the air if you have to. And if you're right about Svensson being in Cyclops, I just may turn the White House over to you.” He winked.

Thomas extended his hand. “I wouldn't know what to do with the White House. Thank you for your confidence, Mr. President.”

Robert Blair took his hand. “I'm not sure I'm offering any confidence. As you pointed out, we're just a little short on alternatives at the moment. I just got off the phone with the Israeli prime minister. Their cabinet has already met with the opposition. The hard-liners are insisting the only way they'll deliver any of their weapons is on the end of a missile. He's not inclined to disagree.”

“Then you have to convince them that any nuclear exchange would be suicide,” Thomas said.

“In their minds, disarming would be suicide. Submitting has landed them in a world of hurt before—they're not going to be easy, and frankly I'm not sure they should be. I doubt Svensson has any plans of giving the Israelis the antivirus, regardless of what they do.”

“If the virus doesn't finish us off, a war just might,” Thomas said. “A leak to the press might do the same. But then you already know that.”

“Unfortunately. We're spinning a story about an outbreak of the Raison Strain on an island near Java. It'll make enough noise to distract anything for a few days. The other governments involved understand the critical nature of keeping this under wraps. But there's no way to hide this for long. Not with so many people involved. Keeping Olsen in line will be a full-time job in itself.”

The president drew a deep breath and let it out, eyes closed.

“Let's pray you're right about Monique.”