You are on page 1of 36

{\rtf1\ansi\ansicpg1252\deff0\deflang16393{\fonttbl{\f0\fswiss\fprq2\fcharset0 S ystem;}{\f1\fswiss\fcharset0 Arial;}} {\*\generator Msftedit 5.41.21.

2507;}\viewkind4\uc1\pard\li2556\tx1988\tx2414\tx 2556\b\f0\fs20 Praise for the novels of Dan Brown \par DECEPTION POINT \par \ldblquote [DECEPTION POINT has] enough twists and surprises to keep even the mo st \par seasoned readers guessing.\rdblquote \par \emdash Vince Flynn, New York Times \par bestselling author of Separation of Power \par \ldblquote Dan Brown handles the intrigue and action well\'85his research is imp eccable.\rdblquote \par \emdash Daily News (New York) \par \ldblquote A taut, fast-paced, barn-burner of a book. There are no weaknesses in the story or \par storytelling.\rdblquote \par \emdash St. Petersburg Times \par \ldblquote Brown is among the most intelligent and dynamic of authors in the thr iller genre. \par In this dazzling high-tech adventure, he has skillfully blended his own wit and \par style with the rip-roaring adventure of Cussler and the modern technology of \pa r Clancy. Highly recommended.\rdblquote \par \emdash Library Journal \par \ldblquote Brown has an impressive grasp of his material. He is a more astute st oryteller \par than most of his brethren in the thriller vein.\rdblquote \par \emdash Kirkus Reviews \par \ldblquote This is pretty exciting stuff\'85. Brown certainly does have a knack for spinning a \par suspenseful yarn.\rdblquote \par \page\par \emdash Booklist \par \ldblquote In the world of page-turning thrillers, Dan Brown holds a special pla ce in the \par hearts of many of us\'85. A writer whose research and talent make his stories \p ar exciting, believable, and just plain unputdownable.\rdblquote \par \emdash Otto Penzler, Amazon.com (A Penzler Pick) \par \ldblquote An exciting techno-thriller that contains cleverly incorporated scien tific knowhow\'85. \par A powerfully chilling thriller\'85. A superb masterpiece.\rdblquote \par \emdash Harriet Klausner \par \ldblquote A good political story, a good love story, and a good thriller.\rdblq uote \par \emdash Wisconsin State Journal \par \ldblquote This book moves with breakneck speed\'85the many twists and turns wil l keep the \par reader up late. DECEPTION POINT is interesting, fun, and as suspenseful as an \p ar election full of dimpled chads.\rdblquote \par \emdash dcmilitary.com \par \ldblquote Excellent and enjoyable\'85. This is a thriller with an outstanding b lend of \par sophisticated military and scientific details and believable characters\'85. The \par author is at his best.\rdblquote \par \emdash Sullivan County Democrat \par ANGELS & DEMONS \par

\ldblquote Angels & Demons is one hels of a book\emdash I had a hard time puttin g it down\'85. \par An intriguing, imaginative, and very suspenseful read.\rdblquote \par \emdash Dale Brown, New York Times \par \page\par bestselling author of Battle Born \par \ldblquote Brown sets an explosive pace through Rome. Twists and shocks that kee p the \par reader wired right up to the last revelation.\rdblquote \par \emdash Publishers Weekly \par \ldblquote Life-or-death cliff hangers, thrilling cat-and-mouse maneuvers, roman ce, \par religion, science, murder, mysticism, architecture, and action. GO!\rdblquote \ par \emdash Kirkus Reviews \par \ldblquote [A] frantic-paced, pulse-pounding thriller that rivals the best works of Clancy and \par Cussler. The action-packed tale takes readers on an exciting adventure that feel s \par perilously real. Angels & Demons is one reading experience that the audience wil l \par never forget.\rdblquote \par \emdash Midwest Book Review \par \ldblquote It\rquote s brilliant! These characters have depth\'85. The plot is t wisty, turny, slippery, \par and surprising. As for the ending\'85WOW.\rdblquote \par \emdash New Hampshire Sunday News \par Books by Dan Brown \par Angels & Demons \par Digital Fortress \par Deception Point \par \page\par fm \par This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are \par products of the author\rquote s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemb lance to \par actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. \ par logo \par POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. \par 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 \par Copyright \'a9 2001 by Dan Brown \par Originally published in hardcover in 2001 by Pocket Books \par All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions ther eof \par in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of \pa r the Americas, New York, NY 10020 \par ISBN: 0-7434-7543-7 \par POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. \par Visit us on the World Wide Web: \par http://www.SimonSays.com \par \page\par Acknowledgments \par With warm thanks to Jason Kaufman for his superb guidance and insightful \par editorial skills; Blythe Brown for her tireless research and creative input; my good \par friend Jake Elwell at Wieser & Wieser; the National Security Archive; the NASA \ par Public Affairs Office; Stan Planton, who continues to be a source for informatio

n \par on all things; the National Security Agency; glaciologist Martin O. Jeffries; an d \par the superb minds of Brett Trotter, Thomas D. Nadeau, and Jim Barrington. Thanks \par also to Connie and Dick Brown, the U.S. Intelligence Policy Documentation \par Project, Suzanne O\rquote Neill, Margie Wachtel, Morey Stettner, Owen King, Alis on \par McKinnell, Mary and Stephen Gorman, Dr. Karl Singer, Dr. Michael I. Latz of \par Scripps Institute of Oceanography, April at Micron Electronics, Esther Sung, the \par National Air and Space Museum, Dr. Gene Allmendinger, the incomparable Heide \pa r Lange at Sanford J. Greenburger Associates, and John Pike at the Federation of \ par American Scientists. \par Author\rquote s Note \par The Delta Force, the National Reconnaissance Office, and the Space Frontier \par Foundation are real organizations. All technologies described in this novel exis t. \par If this discovery is confirmed, it will surely be one of the most stunning insig hts \par into our universe that science has ever uncovered. Its implications are as farre aching \par and awe-inspiring as can be imagined. Even as it promises answers to \par some of our oldest questions, it poses still others even more fundamental. \par \page\par \emdash President Bill Clinton, in a press conference following a discovery know n as \par ALH84001 on August 7, 1997 \par Contents \par Acknowledgments \par Author\rquote s Note \par Prologue \par Chapter 1 \par Chapter 2 \par Chapter 3 \par Chapter 4 \par Chapter 5 \par Chapter 6 \par Chapter 7 \par Chapter 8 \par Chapter 9 \par Chapter 10 \par \page\par Chapter 11 \par Chapter 12 \par Chapter 13 \par Chapter 14 \par Chapter 15 \par Chapter 16 \par Chapter 17 \par Chapter 18 \par Chapter 19 \par Chapter 20 \par Chapter 21 \par Chapter 22 \par Chapter 23 \par Chapter 24 \par Chapter 25 \par

Chapter 26 Chapter 27 \page\par Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 \page\par Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 \page\par Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 \page\par Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81

\par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par \par

Chapter 82 \par Chapter 83 \par Chapter 84 \par Chapter 85 \par Chapter 86 \par Chapter 87 \par Chapter 88 \par Chapter 89 \par Chapter 90 \par Chapter 91 \par Chapter 92 \par Chapter 93 \par Chapter 94 \par Chapter 95 \par \page\par Chapter 96 \par Chapter 97 \par Chapter 98 \par Chapter 99 \par Chapter 100 \par Chapter 101 \par Chapter 102 \par Chapter 103 \par Chapter 104 \par Chapter 105 \par Chapter 106 \par Chapter 107 \par Chapter 108 \par Chapter 109 \par Chapter 110 \par Chapter 111 \par Chapter 112 \par \page\par Chapter 113 \par Chapter 114 \par Chapter 115 \par Chapter 116 \par Chapter 117 \par Chapter 118 \par Chapter 119 \par Chapter 120 \par Chapter 121 \par Chapter 122 \par Chapter 123 \par Chapter 124 \par Chapter 125 \par Chapter 126 \par Chapter 127 \par Chapter 128 \par Chapter 129 \par \page\par Chapter 130 \par Chapter 131 \par Chapter 132 \par Chapter 133 \par Epilogue \par Prologue \par Death, in this forsaken place, could come in countless forms. Geologist Charles \par Brophy had endured the savage splendor of this terrain for years, and yet nothin

g \par could prepare him for a fate as barbarous and unnatural as the one about to befa ll \par him. \par As Brophy\rquote s four huskies pulled his sled of geologic sensing equipment ac ross the \par tundra, the dogs suddenly slowed, looking skyward. \par \ldblquote What is it, girls?\rdblquote Brophy asked, stepping off the sled. \p ar Beyond the gathering storm clouds, a twin-rotor transport helicopter arched in \ par low, hugging the glacial peaks with military dexterity. \par That\rquote s odd, he thought. He never saw helicopters this far north. The airc raft landed \par fifty yards away, kicking up a stinging spray of granulated snow. His dogs \par whined, looking wary. \par When the chopper doors slid open, two men descended. They were dressed in fullwe ather \par whites, armed with rifles, and moved toward Brophy with urgent intent. \par \page\par \ldblquote Dr. Brophy?\rdblquote one called. \par The geologist was baffled. \ldblquote How did you know my name? Who are you?\rdb lquote \par \ldblquote Take out your radio, please.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I\rquote m sorry?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Just do it.\rdblquote \par Bewildered, Brophy pulled his radio from his parka. \par \ldblquote We need you to transmit an emergency communiqu\'e9. Decrease your rad io \par frequency to one hundred kilohertz.\rdblquote \par One hundred kilohertz? Brophy felt utterly lost. Nobody can receive anything tha t \par low. \ldblquote Has there been an accident?\rdblquote \par The second man raised his rifle and pointed it at Brophy\rquote s head. \ldblquo te There\rquote s no time \par to explain. Just do it.\rdblquote \par Trembling, Brophy adjusted his transmission frequency. \par The first man now handed him a note card with a few lines typed on it. \ldblquot e Transmit \par this message. Now.\rdblquote \par Brophy looked at the card. \ldblquote I don\rquote t understand. This informatio n is incorrect. I \par didn\rquote t\emdash\rdblquote \par The man pressed his rifle hard against the geologist\rquote s temple. \par Brophy\rquote s voice was shaking as he transmitted the bizarre message. \par \ldblquote Good,\rdblquote the first man said. \ldblquote Now get yourself and your dogs into the chopper.\rdblquote \par \page\par At gunpoint, Brophy maneuvered his reluctant dogs and sled up a skid ramp into \ par the cargo bay. As soon as they were settled, the chopper lifted off, turning \pa r westward. \par \ldblquote Who the hell are you!\rdblquote Brophy demanded, breaking a sweat in side his parka. And \par what was the meaning of that message! \par The men said nothing. \par As the chopper gained altitude, the wind tore through the open door. Brophy\rquo te s \par four huskies, still rigged to the loaded sled, were whimpering now. \par

\ldblquote At least close the door,\rdblquote Brophy demanded. \ldblquote Can\r quote t you see my dogs are \par frightened!\rdblquote \par The men did not respond. \par As the chopper rose to four thousand feet, it banked steeply out over a series o f ice \par chasms and crevasses. Suddenly, the men stood. Without a word, they gripped the \par heavily laden sled and pushed it out the open door. Brophy watched in horror as \par his dogs scrambled in vain against the enormous weight. In an instant the animal s \par disappeared, dragged howling out of the chopper. \par Brophy was already on his feet screaming when the men grabbed him. They \par hauled him to the door. Numb with fear, Brophy swung his fists, trying to fend o ff \par the powerful hands pushing him outward. \par It was no use. Moments later he was tumbling toward the chasms below. \par 1 \par \page\par Toulos Restaurant, adjacent to Capitol Hill, boasts a politically incorrect menu of \par baby veal and horse carpaccio, making it an ironic hotspot for the quintessentia l \par Washingtonian power breakfast. This morning Toulos was busy\emdash a cacophony o f \par clanking silverware, espresso machines, and cellphone conversations. \par The maitre d\rquote was sneaking a sip of his morning Bloody Mary when the woma n \par entered. He turned with a practiced smile. \par \ldblquote Good morning,\rdblquote he said. \ldblquote May I help you?\rdblquot e \par The woman was attractive, in her mid-thirties, wearing gray, pleated flannel pan ts, \par conservative flats, and an ivory Laura Ashley blouse. Her posture was \par straight\emdash chin raised ever so slightly\emdash not arrogant, just strong. T he woman\rquote s hair \par was light brown and fashioned in Washington\rquote s most popular style\emdash t he \ldblquote anchorwoman\rdblquote\emdash\par a lush feathering, curled under at the shoulders\'85long enough to be \par sexy, but short enough to remind you she was probably smarter than you. \par \ldblquote I\rquote m a little late,\rdblquote the woman said, her voice unassu ming. \ldblquote I have a breakfast \par meeting with Senator Sexton.\rdblquote \par The maitre d\rquote felt an unexpected tingle of nerves. Senator Sedgewick Sext on. The \par senator was a regular here and currently one of the country\rquote s most famous men. \par Last week, having swept all twelve Republican primaries on Super Tuesday, the \p ar senator was virtually guaranteed his party\rquote s nomination for President of the United \par States. Many believed the senator had a superb chance of stealing the White \par House from the embattled President next fall. Lately Sexton\rquote s face seemed to be \par on every national magazine, his campaign slogan plastered all across America: \p ar \ldblquote Stop spending. Start mending.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Senator Sexton is in his booth,\rdblquote the maitre d\rquote said. \ldblquote And you are?\rdblquote \par

\ldblquote Rachel Sexton. His daughter.\rdblquote \par How foolish of me, he thought. The resemblance was quite apparent. The woman \pa r had the senator\rquote s penetrating eyes and refined carriage\emdash that polis hed air of \par \page\par resilient nobility. Clearly the senator\rquote s classic good looks had not skip ped \par generations, although Rachel Sexton seemed to carry her blessings with a grace \ par and humility her father could learn from. \par \ldblquote A pleasure to have you, Ms. Sexton.\rdblquote \par As the maitre d\rquote led the senator\rquote s daughter across the dining area , he was \par embarrassed by the gauntlet of male eyes following her\'85some discreet, others \par less so. Few women dined at Toulos and even fewer who looked like Rachel \par Sexton. \par \ldblquote Nice body,\rdblquote one diner whispered. \ldblquote Sexton already find himself a new wife?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote That\rquote s his daughter, you idiot,\rdblquote another replied. \p ar The man chuckled. \ldblquote Knowing Sexton, he\rquote d probably screw her anyw ay.\rdblquote \par When Rachel arrived at her father\rquote s table, the senator was on his cellpho ne talking \par loudly about one of his recent successes. He glanced up at Rachel only long \par enough to tap his Cartier and remind her she was late. \par I missed you, too, Rachel thought. \par Her father\rquote s first name was Thomas, although he\rquote d adopted his midd le name long \par ago. Rachel suspected it was because he liked the alliteration. Senator Sedgewic k \par Sexton. The man was a silver-haired, silver-tongued political animal who had bee n \par anointed with the slick look of soap opera doctor, which seemed appropriate \par considering his talents of impersonation. \par \ldblquote Rachel!\rdblquote Her father clicked off his phone and stood to kiss her cheek. \par \ldblquote Hi, Dad.\rdblquote She did not kiss him back. \par \page\par \ldblquote You look exhausted.\rdblquote \par And so it begins, she thought. \ldblquote I got your message. What\rquote s up?\ rdblquote \par \ldblquote I can\rquote t ask my daughter out for breakfast?\rdblquote \par Rachel had learned long ago her father seldom requested her company unless he \p ar had some ulterior motive. \par Sexton took a sip of coffee. \ldblquote So, how are things with you?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Busy. I see your campaign\rquote s going well.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Oh, let\rquote s not talk business.\rdblquote Sexton leaned across t he table, lowering his voice. \par \ldblquote How\rquote s that guy at the State Department I set you up with?\rdbl quote \par Rachel exhaled, already fighting the urge to check her watch. \ldblquote Dad, I really \par haven\rquote t had time to call him. And I wish you\rquote d stop trying to\emda sh\rdblquote \par \ldblquote You\rquote ve got to make time for the important things, Rachel. With

out love, \par everything else is meaningless.\rdblquote \par A number of comebacks came to mind, but Rachel chose silence. Being the bigger \ par person was not difficult when it came to her father. \ldblquote Dad, you wanted to see me? \par You said this was important.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote It is.\rdblquote Her father\rquote s eyes studied her closely. \par Rachel felt part of her defenses melt away under his gaze, and she cursed the \p ar man\rquote s power. The senator\rquote s eyes were his gift\emdash a gift Rachel suspected would \par probably carry him to the White House. On cue, his eyes would well with tears, \ par and then, an instant later, they would clear, opening a window to an impassioned \par soul, extending a bond of trust to all. It\rquote s all about trust, her father always said. \par The senator had lost Rachel\rquote s years ago, but he was quickly gaining the c ountry\rquote s. \par \page\par \ldblquote I have a proposition for you,\rdblquote Senator Sexton said. \par \ldblquote Let me guess,\rdblquote Rachel replied, attempting to refortify her position. \ldblquote Some \par prominent divorc\'e9 looking for a young wife?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Don\rquote t kid yourself, honey. You\rquote re not that young anymor e.\rdblquote \par Rachel felt the familiar shrinking sensation that so often accompanied meetings \par with her father. \par \ldblquote I want to throw you a life raft,\rdblquote he said. \par \ldblquote I wasn\rquote t aware I was drowning.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote You\rquote re not. The President is. You should jump ship before it\r quote s too late.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Haven\rquote t we had this conversation?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Think about your future, Rachel. You can come work for me.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I hope that\rquote s not why you asked me to breakfast.\rdblquote \p ar The senator\rquote s veneer of calm broke ever so slightly. \ldblquote Rachel, c an\rquote t you see that \par your working for him reflects badly on me. And on my campaign.\rdblquote \par Rachel sighed. She and her father had been through this. \ldblquote Dad, I don\r quote t work for \par the President. I haven\rquote t even met the President. I work in Fairfax, for G od\rquote s sake!\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Politics is perception, Rachel. It appears you work for the President .\rdblquote \par Rachel exhaled, trying to keep her cool. \ldblquote I worked too hard to get thi s job, Dad. \par I\rquote m not quitting.\rdblquote \par The senator\rquote s eyes narrowed. \ldblquote You know, sometimes your selfish attitude \par really\emdash\rdblquote \par \page\par \ldblquote Senator Sexton?\rdblquote A reporter materialized beside the table. \par Sexton\rquote s demeanor thawed instantly. Rachel groaned and took a croissant f rom the \par basket on the table. \par

\ldblquote Ralph Sneeden,\rdblquote the reporter said. \ldblquote Washington Po st. May I ask you a few \par questions?\rdblquote \par The senator smiled, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. \ldblquote My pleasure, Ral ph. Just \par make it quick. I don\rquote t want my coffee getting cold.\rdblquote \par The reporter laughed on cue. \ldblquote Of course, sir.\rdblquote He pulled out a minirecorder and \par turned it on. \ldblquote Senator, your television ads call for legislation ensur ing equal \par salaries for women in the workplace\'85as well as for tax cuts for new families. Can \par you comment on your rationale?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Sure. I\rquote m simply a huge fan of strong women and strong familie s.\rdblquote \par Rachel practically choked on her croissant. \par \ldblquote And on the subject of families,\rdblquote the reporter followed up, \ldblquote you talk a lot about \par education. You\rquote ve proposed some highly controversial budget cuts in an ef fort to \par allocate more funds to our nation\rquote s schools.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I believe the children are our future.\rdblquote \par Rachel could not believe her father had sunk to quoting pop songs. \par \ldblquote Finally, sir,\rdblquote the reporter said, \ldblquote you\rquote ve taken an enormous jump in the polls these \par past few weeks. The President has got to be worried. Any thoughts on your recent \par success?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I think it has to do with trust. Americans are starting to see that t he President \par cannot be trusted to make the tough decisions facing this nation. Runaway \par government spending is putting this country deeper in debt every day, and \par \page\par Americans are starting to realize that it\rquote s time to stop spending and sta rt \par mending.\rdblquote \par Like a stay of execution from her father\rquote s rhetoric, the pager in Rachel\ rquote s handbag \par went off. Normally the harsh electronic beeping was an unwelcome interruption, \ par but at the moment, it sounded almost melodious. \par The senator glared indignantly at having been interrupted. \par Rachel fished the pager from her handbag and pressed a preset sequence of five \ par buttons, confirming that she was indeed the person holding the pager. The beepin g \par stopped, and the LCD began blinking. In fifteen seconds she would receive a \par secure text message. \par Sneeden grinned at the senator. \ldblquote Your daughter is obviously a busy wom an. It\rquote s \par refreshing to see you two still find time in your schedules to dine together.\rd blquote \par \ldblquote As I said, family comes first.\rdblquote \par Sneeden nodded, and then his gaze hardened. \ldblquote Might I ask, sir, how you and your \par daughter manage your conflicts of interest?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Conflicts?\rdblquote Senator Sexton cocked his head with an innocent look of confusion. \par \ldblquote What conflicts do you mean?\rdblquote \par Rachel glanced up, grimacing at her father\rquote s act. She knew exactly where

this was \par headed. Damn reporters, she thought. Half of them were on political payrolls. Th e \par reporter\rquote s question was what journalists called a grapefruit\emdash a que stion that was \par supposed to look like a tough inquiry but was in fact a scripted favor to the \p ar senator\emdash a slow lob pitch that her father could line up and smash out of t he park, \par clearing the air about a few things. \par \ldblquote Well, sir\'85\rdblquote The reporter coughed, feigning uneasiness ov er the question. \ldblquote The \par conflict is that your daughter works for your opponent.\rdblquote \par \page\par Senator Sexton exploded in laughter, defusing the question instantly. \ldblquote Ralph, first \par of all, the President and I are not opponents. We are simply two patriots who ha ve \par different ideas about how to run the country we love.\rdblquote \par The reporter beamed. He had his sound bite. \ldblquote And second?\rdblquote \p ar \ldblquote Second, my daughter is not employed by the President; she is employed by the \par intelligence community. She compiles intel reports and sends them to the White \ par House. It\rquote s a fairly low-level position.\rdblquote He paused and looked at Rachel. \ldblquote In fact, \par dear, I\rquote m not sure you\rquote ve even met the President, have you?\rdblqu ote \par Rachel stared, her eyes smoldering. \par The beeper chirped, drawing Rachel\rquote s gaze to the incoming message on the LCD \par screen. \par \emdash RPRT DIRNRO STAT\emdash \par She deciphered the shorthand instantly and frowned. The message was \par unexpected, and most certainly bad news. At least she had her exit cue. \par \ldblquote Gentlemen,\rdblquote she said. \ldblquote It breaks my heart, but I have to go. I\rquote m late for work.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Ms. Sexton,\rdblquote the reporter said quickly, \ldblquote before y ou go, I was wondering if you \par could comment on the rumors that you called this breakfast meeting to discuss th e \par possibility of leaving your current post to work for your father\rquote s campai gn?\rdblquote \par Rachel felt like someone had thrown hot coffee in her face. The question took he r \par totally off guard. She looked at her father and sensed in his smirk that the que stion \par had been prepped. She wanted to climb across the table and stab him with a fork. \par The reporter shoved the recorder into her face. \ldblquote Miss Sexton?\rdblquot e \par Rachel locked eyes with the reporter. \ldblquote Ralph, or whoever the hell you are, get this \par straight: I have no intention of abandoning my job to work for Senator Sexton, a nd \par \page\par if you print anything to the contrary, you\rquote ll need a shoehorn to get that recorder \par out of your ass.\rdblquote \par

The reporter\rquote s eyes widened. He clicked off his recorder, hiding a grin. \ldblquote Thank \par you both.\rdblquote He disappeared. \par Rachel immediately regretted the outburst. She had inherited her father\rquote s temper, \par and she hated him for it. Smooth, Rachel. Very smooth. \par Her father glared disapprovingly. \ldblquote You\rquote d do well to learn some poise.\rdblquote \par Rachel began collecting her things. \ldblquote This meeting is over.\rdblquote \par The senator was apparently done with her anyway. He pulled out his cellphone to \par make a call. \ldblquote\rquote Bye, sweetie. Stop by the office one of these day s and say hello. \par And get married, for God\rquote s sake. You\rquote re thirty-three years old.\rd blquote \par \ldblquote Thirty-four,\rdblquote she snapped. \ldblquote Your secretary sent a card.\rdblquote \par He clucked ruefully. \ldblquote Thirty-four. Almost an old maid. You know by the time I \par was thirty-four, I\rquote d already\emdash\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Married Mom and screwed the neighbor?\rdblquote The words came out l ouder than \par Rachel had intended, her voice hanging naked in an ill-timed lull. Diners nearby \par glanced over. \par Senator Sexton\rquote s eyes flash-froze, two ice-crystals boring into her. \ldb lquote You watch \par yourself, young lady.\rdblquote \par Rachel headed for the door. No, you watch yourself, senator. \par \page\par 2\par The three men sat in silence inside their ThermaTech storm tent. Outside, an icy \par wind buffeted the shelter, threatening to tear it from its moorings. None of the men \par took notice; each had seen situations far more threatening than this one. \par Their tent was stark white, pitched in a shallow depression, out of sight. Their \par communication devices, transport, and weapons were all state-of-the-art. The \pa r group leader was code-named Delta-One. He was muscular and lithe with eyes as \p ar desolate as the topography on which he was stationed. \par The military chronograph on Delta-One\rquote s wrist emitted a sharp beep. The s ound \par coincided in perfect unison with beeps emitted from the chronographs worn by the \par other two men. \par Another thirty minutes had passed. \par It was time. Again. \par Reflexively, Delta-One left his two partners and stepped outside into the darkne ss \par and pounding wind. He scanned the moonlit horizon with infrared binoculars. As \ par always, he focused on the structure. It was a thousand meters away\emdash an eno rmous \par and unlikely edifice rising from the barren terrain. He and his team had been \p ar watching it for ten days now, since its construction. Delta-One had no doubt tha

t \par the information inside would change the world. Lives already had been lost to \p ar protect it. \par At the moment, everything looked quiet outside the structure. \par The true test, however, was what was happening inside. \par Delta-One reentered the tent and addressed his two fellow soldiers. \ldblquote T ime for a \par flyby.\rdblquote \par Both men nodded. The taller of them, Delta-Two, opened a laptop computer and \pa r \page\par turned it on. Positioning himself in front of the screen, Delta-Two placed his h and \par on a mechanical joystick and gave it a short jerk. A thousand meters away, hidde n \par deep within the building, a surveillance robot the size of a mosquito received h is \par transmission and sprang to life. \par 3\par Rachel Sexton was still steaming as she drove her white Integra up Leesburg \par Highway. The bare maples of the Falls Church foothills rose stark against a cris p \par March sky, but the peaceful setting did little to calm her anger. Her father\rqu ote s recent \par surge in the polls should have endowed him with a modicum of confident grace, \p ar and yet it seemed only to fuel his self-importance. \par The man\rquote s deceit was doubly painful because he was the only immediate fam ily \par Rachel had left. Rachel\rquote s mother had died three years ago, a devastating loss \par whose emotional scars still raked at Rachel\rquote s heart. Rachel\rquote s only solace was \par knowing that the death, with ironic compassion, had liberated her mother from a \par deep despair over a miserable marriage to the senator. \par Rachel\rquote s pager beeped again, pulling her thoughts back to the road in fro nt of her. \par The incoming message was the same. \par \emdash RPRT DIRNRO STAT\emdash \par Report to the director of NRO stat. She sighed. I\rquote m coming, for God\rquot e s sake! \par With rising uncertainty, Rachel drove to her usual exit, turned onto the private \par access road, and rolled to a stop at the heavily armed sentry booth. This was 14 225 \par Leesburg Highway, one of the most secretive addresses in the country. \par While the guard scanned her car for bugs, Rachel gazed out at the mammoth \par \page\par structure in the distance. The one-million-square-foot complex sat majestically on \par sixty-eight forested acres just outside D.C. in Fairfax, Virginia. The building\ rquote s \par facade was a bastion of one-way glass that reflected the army of satellite dishe s, \par antennas, and rayodomes on the surrounding grounds, doubling their already awein spiring \par numbers. \par Two minutes later, Rachel had parked and crossed the manicured grounds to the \p

ar main entrance, where a carved granite sign announced \par NATIONAL RECONNAISSANCE OFFICE (NRO) \par The two armed Marines flanking the bulletproof revolving door stared straight \p ar ahead as Rachel passed between them. She felt the same sensation she always felt \par as she pushed through these doors\'85that she was entering the belly of a sleepi ng \par giant. \par Inside the vaulted lobby, Rachel sensed the faint echoes of hushed conversations \par all around her, as if the words were sifting down from the offices above. An \pa r enormous tiled mosaic proclaimed the NRO directive: \par ENABLING U.S. GLOBAL INFORMATION \par SUPERIORITY, DURING PEACE AND THROUGH WAR. \par The walls here were lined with massive photographs\emdash rocket launches, subma rine \par christenings, intercept installations\emdash towering achievements that could be \par celebrated only within these walls. \par Now, as always, Rachel felt the problems of the outside world fading behind her. \par She was entering the shadow world. A world where the problems thundered in like \par freight trains, and the solutions were meted out with barely a whisper. \par As Rachel approached the final checkpoint, she wondered what kind of problem \pa r had caused her pager to ring twice in the last thirty minutes. \par \ldblquote Good morning, Ms. Sexton.\rdblquote The guard smiled as she approach ed the steel \par \page\par doorway. \par Rachel returned the smile as the guard held out a tiny swab for Rachel to take. \par \ldblquote You know the drill,\rdblquote he said. \par Rachel took the hermetically sealed cotton swab and removed the plastic covering . \par Then she placed it in her mouth like a thermometer. She held it under her tongue \par for two seconds. Then, leaning forward, she allowed the guard to remove it. The \par guard inserted the moistened swab into a slit in a machine behind him. The \par machine took four seconds to confirm the DNA sequences in Rachel\rquote s saliva . \par Then a monitor flickered on, displaying Rachel\rquote s photo and security clear ance. \par The guard winked. \ldblquote Looks like you\rquote re still you.\rdblquote He p ulled the used swab from \par the machine and dropped it through an opening, where it was instantly incinerate d. \par \ldblquote Have a good one.\rdblquote He pressed a button and the huge steel do ors swung open. \par As Rachel made her way into the maze of bustling corridors beyond, she was \par amazed that even after six years here she was still daunted by the colossal scop e of \par this operation. The agency encompassed six other U.S. installations, employed \p ar over ten thousand agents, and had operating costs of over $10 billion per year.

\par In total secrecy, the NRO built and maintained an astonishing arsenal of cutting edge \par spy technologies: worldwide electronic intercepts; spy satellites; silent, \par embedded relay chips in telecomm products; even a global naval-recon network \pa r known as Classic Wizard, a secret web of 1,456 hydrophones mounted on \par seafloors around the world, capable of monitoring ship movements anywhere on \pa r the globe. \par NRO technologies not only helped the United States win military conflicts, but \ par they provided an endless stream of peacetime data to agencies such as the CIA, \ par NSA, and Department of Defense, helping them thwart terrorism, locate crimes \pa r against the environment, and give policymakers the data needed to make informed \par decisions on an enormous array of topics. \par \page\par Rachel worked here as a \ldblquote gister.\rdblquote Gisting, or data reduction , required analyzing \par complex reports and distilling their essence or \ldblquote gist\rdblquote into concise, single-page \par briefs. Rachel had proven herself a natural. All those years of cutting through my \par father\rquote s bullshit, she thought. \par Rachel now held the NRO\rquote s premier gisting post\emdash intelligence liaiso n to the \par White House. She was responsible for sifting through the NRO\rquote s daily inte lligence \par reports, deciding which stories were relevant to the President, distilling those \par reports into single-page briefs, and then forwarding the synopsized material to the \par President\rquote s National Security Adviser. In NRO-speak, Rachel Sexton \par \ldblquote manufactured finished product and serviced the customer.\rdblquote \ par Although the job was difficult and required long hours, the position was a badge \par of honor for her, a way to assert her independence from her father. Senator Sext on \par had offered many times to support Rachel if she would quit the post, but Rachel \par had no intention of becoming financially beholden to a man like Sedgewick \par Sexton. Her mother was testimony to what could happen when a man like that \par held too many cards. \par The sound of Rachel\rquote s pager echoed in the marble hall. \par Again? She didn\rquote t even bother to check the message. \par Wondering what the hell was going on, she boarded the elevator, skipped her own \par floor, and went straight to the top. \par 4\par To call the NRO director a plain man was in itself an overstatement. NRO \par Director William Pickering was diminutive, with pale skin, a forgettable face, a \par bald head, and hazel eyes, which despite having gazed upon the country\rquote s deepest \par \page\par secrets, appeared as two shallow pools. Nonetheless, to those who worked under \

par him, Pickering towered. His subdued personality and unadorned philosophies were \par legendary at the NRO. The man\rquote s quiet diligence, combined with his wardro be of \par plain black suits, had earned him the nickname the \ldblquote Quaker.\rdblquote A brilliant strategist \par and the model of efficiency, the Quaker ran his world with an unrivaled clarity. \par His mantra: \ldblquote Find the truth. Act on it.\rdblquote \par When Rachel arrived in the director\rquote s office, he was on the phone. Rachel was \par always surprised by the sight of him: William Pickering looked nothing like a ma n \par who wielded enough power to wake the President at any hour. \par Pickering hung up and waved her in. \ldblquote Agent Sexton, have a seat.\rdblqu ote His voice had a \par lucid rawness to it. \par \ldblquote Thank you, sir.\rdblquote Rachel sat. \par Despite most people\rquote s discomfort around William Pickering\rquote s blunt demeanor, \par Rachel had always liked the man. He was the exact antithesis of her \par father\'85physically unimposing, anything but charismatic, and he did his duty w ith \par a selfless patriotism, shunning the spotlight her father loved so much. \par Pickering removed his glasses and gazed at her. \ldblquote Agent Sexton, the Pre sident \par called me about a half hour ago. In direct reference to you.\rdblquote \par Rachel shifted in her seat. Pickering was known for getting to the point. One he ll \par of an opening, she thought. \ldblquote Not a problem with one of my gists, I hop e.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote On the contrary. He says the White House is impressed with your work. \rdblquote \par Rachel exhaled silently. \ldblquote So what did he want?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote A meeting with you. In person. Immediately.\rdblquote \par Rachel\rquote s unease sharpened. \ldblquote A personal meeting? About what?\rdb lquote \par \page\par \ldblquote Damn good question. He wouldn\rquote t tell me.\rdblquote \par Now Rachel was lost. Keeping information from the director of the NRO was like \ par keeping Vatican secrets from the Pope. The standing joke in the intelligence \pa r community was that if William Pickering didn\rquote t know about it, it hadn\rqu ote t happened. \par Pickering stood, pacing now in front of his window. \ldblquote He asked that I c ontact you \par immediately and send you to meet with him.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Right now?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote He sent transportation. It\rquote s waiting outside.\rdblquote \par Rachel frowned. The President\rquote s request was unnerving on its own account, but it \par was the look of concern on Pickering\rquote s face that really worried her. \ldb lquote You \par obviously have reservations.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I sure as hell do!\rdblquote Pickering showed a rare flash of emotio n. \ldblquote The President\rquote s \par timing seems almost callow in its transparency. You are the daughter of the man \par

who is currently challenging him in the polls, and he demands a private meeting \par with you? I find this highly inappropriate. Your father no doubt would agree.\rd blquote \par Rachel knew Pickering was right\emdash not that she gave a damn what her father \par thought. \ldblquote Do you not trust the President\rquote s motives?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote My oath is to provide intel support to the current White House admini stration, \par not pass judgment on their politics.\rdblquote \par Typical Pickering response, Rachel realized. William Pickering made no bones \pa r about his view of politicians as transitory figureheads who passed fleetingly ac ross \par a chessboard whose real players were men like Pickering himself\emdash seasoned \par \ldblquote lifers\rdblquote who had been around long enough to understand the g ame with some \par perspective. Two full terms in the White House, Pickering often said, was not \p ar nearly enough to comprehend the true complexities of the global political \par landscape. \par \page\par \ldblquote Maybe it\rquote s an innocent request,\rdblquote Rachel offered, hop ing the President was above \par trying some sort of cheap campaign stunt. \ldblquote Maybe he needs a reduction of some \par sensitive data.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Not to sound belittling, Agent Sexton, but the White House has access to plenty \par of qualified gisting personnel if they need it. If it\rquote s an internal White House job, \par the President should know better than to contact you. And if not, then he sure a s \par hell should know better than to request an NRO asset and then refuse to tell me \par what he wants it for.\rdblquote \par Pickering always referred to his employees as assets, a manner of speech many \p ar found disconcertingly cold. \par \ldblquote Your father is gaining political momentum,\rdblquote Pickering said. \ldblquote A lot of it. The \par White House has got to be getting nervous.\rdblquote He sighed. \ldblquote Poli tics is a desperate \par business. When the President calls a secret meeting with his challenger\rquote s daughter, \par I\rquote d guess there\rquote s more on his mind than intelligence gists.\rdblqu ote \par Rachel felt a distant chill. Pickering\rquote s hunches had an uncanny tendency to be \par dead on. \ldblquote And you\rquote re afraid the White House feels desperate eno ugh to introduce \par me into the political mix?\rdblquote \par Pickering paused a moment. \ldblquote You are not exactly silent about your feel ings for \par your father, and I have little doubt the President\rquote s campaign staff is aw are of the \par rift. It occurs to me that they may want to use you against him somehow.\rdblquo te \par

\ldblquote Where do I sign up?\rdblquote Rachel said, only half-joking. \par Pickering looked unimpressed. He gave her a stern stare. \ldblquote A word of wa rning, \par Agent Sexton. If you feel that your personal issues with your father are going t o \par cloud your judgment in dealing with the President, I strongly advise that you \p ar decline the President\rquote s request for a meeting.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Decline?\rdblquote Rachel gave a nervous chuckle. \ldblquote I obvio usly can\rquote t refuse the \par \page\par President.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote No,\rdblquote the director said, \ldblquote but I can.\rdblquote \p ar His words rumbled a bit, reminding Rachel of the other reason Pickering was \par called the \ldblquote Quaker.\rdblquote Despite being a small man, William Pick ering could cause \par political earthquakes if he were crossed. \par \ldblquote My concerns here are simple,\rdblquote Pickering said. \ldblquote I have a responsibility to protect \par the people who work for me, and I don\rquote t appreciate even the vague implica tion \par that one of them might be used as a pawn in a political game.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote What do you recommend I do?\rdblquote \par Pickering sighed. \ldblquote My suggestion is that you meet with him. Commit to nothing. \par Once the President tells you what the hell is on his mind, call me. If I think h e\rquote s \par playing political hardball with you, trust me, I\rquote ll pull you out so fast the man \par won\rquote t know what hit him.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Thank you, sir.\rdblquote Rachel sensed a protective aura from the d irector that she often \par longed for in her own father. \ldblquote And you said the President already sent a car?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Not exactly.\rdblquote Pickering frowned and pointed out the window. \par Uncertain, Rachel went over and gazed out in the direction of Pickering\rquote s \par outstretched finger. \par A snub-nosed MH-60G PaveHawk helicopter sat idling on the lawn. One of the \par fastest choppers ever made, this PaveHawk was emblazoned with the White \par House insignia. The pilot stood nearby, checking his watch. \par Rachel turned to Pickering in disbelief. \ldblquote The White House sent a PaveH awk to \par take me fifteen miles into D.C.?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Apparently the President hopes you are either impressed or intimidate d.\rdblquote \par \page\par Pickering eyed her. \ldblquote I suggest you are neither.\rdblquote \par Rachel nodded. She was both. \par Four minutes later, Rachel Sexton exited the NRO and climbed into the waiting \p ar helicopter. Before she had even buckled herself in, the craft was airborne, bank ing \par hard across the Virginia woods. Rachel gazed out at the blur of trees beneath he r \par and felt her pulse rising. It would have risen faster had she known this chopper \par would never reach the White House. \par

5\par The frigid wind battered the fabric of the ThermaTech tent, but Delta-One hardly \par noticed. He and Delta-Three were focused on their comrade, who was \par manipulating the joystick in his hand with surgical dexterity. The screen before \par them displayed a live video transmission from a pinpoint camera mounted aboard \ par the microrobot. \par The ultimate surveillance tool, Delta-One thought, still amazed every time they \par powered it up. Lately, in the world of micromechanics, fact seemed to be outpaci ng \par fiction. \par Micro Electro Mechanical Systems (MEMS)\emdash microbots\emdash were the newest tool \par in high-tech surveillance\emdash\ldblquote fly on the wall technology,\rdblquote they called it. \par Literally. \par Although microscopic, remote-controlled robots sounded like science fiction, in \par fact they had been around since the 1990s. Discovery magazine had run a cover \p ar \page\par story in May 1997 on microbots, featuring both \ldblquote flying\rdblquote and \ldblquote swimming\rdblquote models. \par The swimmers\emdash nanosubs the size of salt grains\emdash could be injected in to the \par human bloodstream \'e0 la the movie Fantastic Voyage. They were now being used \ par by advanced medical facilities to help doctors navigate arteries by remote contr ol, \par observe live intravenous video transmissions, and locate arterial blockages with out \par ever lifting a scalpel. \par Contrary to intuition, building a flying microbot was even simpler business. The \par aerodynamics technology for getting a machine to fly had been around since Kitty \par Hawk, and all that remained had been the issue of miniaturization. The first fly ing \par microbots, designed by NASA as unmanned exploration tools for future Mars \par missions, had been several inches long. Now, however, advances in \par nanotechnology, lightweight energy-absorbent materials, and micromechanics had \ par made the flying microbots a reality. \par The true breakthrough had come from the new field biomimics\emdash copying Mothe r \par Nature. Miniature dragonflies, as it turned out, were the ideal prototype for th ese \par agile and efficient flying microbots. The PH2 model Delta-Two was currently \par flying was only one centimeter long\emdash the size of a mosquito\emdash and emp loyed a ency in the air. \par The microbot\rquote s refueling mechanism had been another breakthrough. The fir st \par microbot prototypes could only recharge their energy cells by hovering directly \par beneath a bright light source, not ideal for stealth or use in dark locales. The newer \par prototypes, however, could recharge simply by parking within a few inches of a \

par magnetic field. Conveniently, in modern society, magnetic fields were ubiquitous \par and discreetly placed\emdash power outlets, computer monitors, electric motors, audio \par speakers, cellphones\emdash it seemed there was never any shortage of obscure \p ar recharging stations. Once a microbot had been introduced successfully into a \pa r locale, it could transmit audio and video almost indefinitely. The Delta Force\r quote s \par PH2 had been transmitting for over a week now with no trouble whatsoever. \par \page\par Now, like an insect hovering inside a cavernous barn, the airborne microbot hung \par silently in the still air of the structure\rquote s massive central room. With a bird\rquote s-eye \par view of the space below, the microbot circled silently above unsuspecting \par occupants\emdash technicians, scientists, specialists in numerous fields of stud y. As the \par PH2 circled, Delta-One spotted two familiar faces engaged in conversation. They \par would be a telling mark. He told Delta-Two to drop down and have a listen. \par Manipulating the controls, Delta-Two switched on the robot\rquote s sound sensor s, \par oriented the microbot\rquote s parabolic amplifier, and decreased the robot\rquo te s elevation \par until it was ten feet over the scientists\rquote heads. The transmission was fa int, but \par discernible. \par \ldblquote I still can\rquote t believe it,\rdblquote one scientist was saying. The excitement in his voice had \par not diminished since his arrival here forty-eight hours ago. \par The man with whom he was talking obviously shared the enthusiasm. \ldblquote In your \par lifetime\'85did you ever think you would witness anything like this?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Never,\rdblquote the scientist replied, beaming. \ldblquote It\rquot e s all a magnificent dream.\rdblquote \par Delta-One had heard enough. Clearly everything inside was proceeding as \par expected. Delta-Two maneuvered the microbot away from the conversation and \par flew it back to its hiding place. He parked the tiny device undetected near the \par cylinder of an electric generator. The PH2\rquote s power cells immediately bega n \par recharging for the next mission. \par 6\par Rachel Sexton\rquote s thoughts were lost in the morning\rquote s bizarre develo pments as her \par PaveHawk transport tore across the morning sky, and it was not until the \par helicopter rocketed out across Chesapeake Bay that she realized they were headin g \par \page\par in entirely the wrong direction. The initial flash of confusion instantly gave w ay to \par trepidation. \par \ldblquote Hey!\rdblquote she yelled to the pilot. \ldblquote What are you doin g?\rdblquote Her voice was barely \par audible over the rotors. \ldblquote You\rquote re supposed to be taking me to th e White House!\rdblquote \par

The pilot shook his head. \ldblquote Sorry, ma\rquote am. The President is not a t the White House \par this morning.\rdblquote \par Rachel tried to remember if Pickering had specifically mentioned the White House \par or whether she had simply assumed. \ldblquote So where is the President?\rdblquo te \par \ldblquote Your meeting with him is elsewhere.\rdblquote \par No shit. \ldblquote Where elsewhere?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Not far now.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote That\rquote s not what I asked.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Sixteen more miles.\rdblquote \par Rachel scowled at him. This guy should be a politician. \ldblquote Do you dodge bullets as \par well as you dodge questions?\rdblquote \par The pilot did not answer. \par It took less than seven minutes for the chopper to cross the Chesapeake. When \p ar land was in sight again, the pilot banked north and skirted a narrow peninsula, \par where Rachel saw a series of runways and military-looking buildings. The pilot \ par dropped down toward them, and Rachel then realized what this place was. The six \par launchpads and charred rocket towers were a good clue, but if that was not \par enough, the roof of one of the buildings had been painted with two enormous \par \page\par words: WALLOPS ISLAND. \par Wallops Island was one of NASA\rquote s oldest launch sites. Still used today fo r \par satellite launches and testing of experimental aircraft, Wallops was NASA\rquote s base \par away from the spotlight. \par The President is at Wallops Island? It made no sense. \par The chopper pilot aligned his trajectory with a series of three runways that ran the \par length of the narrow peninsula. They seemed to be heading for the far end of the \par center runway. \par The pilot began to slow. \ldblquote You will be meeting the President in his off ice.\rdblquote \par Rachel turned, wondering if the guy was joking. \ldblquote The President of the United \par States has an office on Wallops Island?\rdblquote \par The pilot looked dead serious. \ldblquote The President of the United States has an office \par wherever he likes, ma\rquote am.\rdblquote \par He pointed toward the end of the runway. Rachel saw the mammoth shape \par glistening in the distance, and her heart almost stopped. Even at three hundred \par yards, she recognized the light blue hull of the modified 747. \par \ldblquote I\rquote m meeting him aboard the\'85\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Yes, ma\rquote am. His home away from home.\rdblquote \par Rachel stared out at the massive aircraft. The military\rquote s cryptic designa tion for this \par prestigious plane was VC-25-A, although the rest of the world knew it by another \par name: Air Force One. \par \ldblquote Looks like you\rquote re in the new one this morning,\rdblquote the pilot said, motioning to the \par

numbers on the plane\rquote s tail fin. \par \page\par Rachel nodded blankly. Few Americans knew that there were actually two Air \par Force Ones in service\emdash a pair of identical, specially configured 747-200-B s, one \par with the tail number 28000 and the other 29000. Both planes had cruising speeds \par of 600 mph and had been modified for in-flight refueling, giving them virtually \par unlimited range. \par As the PaveHawk settled onto the runway beside the President\rquote s plane, Rac hel \par now understood the references to Air Force One being the commander-in chief\rquo te s \par \ldblquote portable home court advantage.\rdblquote The machine was an intimida ting sight. \par When the President flew to other countries to meet heads of state, he often \par requested\emdash for security purposes\emdash that the meeting take place on the runway \par aboard his jet. Although some of the motives were security, certainly another \p ar incentive was to gain a negotiating edge through raw intimidation. A visit to Ai r \par Force One was far more intimidating than any trip to the White House. The sixfoo t-\par high letters along the fuselage trumpeted \ldblquote UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.\r dblquote A \par female English cabinet member had once accused President Nixon of \ldblquote wav ing his \par manhood in her face\rdblquote when he asked her to join him aboard Air Force On e. Later \par the crew jokingly nicknamed the plane \ldblquote Big Dick.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Ms. Sexton?\rdblquote A blazer-clad Secret Serviceman materialized o utside the chopper \par and opened the door for her. \ldblquote The President is waiting for you.\rdblqu ote \par Rachel got out of the chopper and gazed up the steep gangway at the bulging hull . \par Into the flying phallus. She had once heard the flying \ldblquote Oval Office\rd blquote had over four \par thousand square feet of interior floor space, including four separate private \p ar sleeping quarters, berths for a twenty-six-member flight crew, and two galleys \ par capable of providing food for fifty people. \par Climbing the stairway, Rachel felt the Secret Serviceman on her heels, urging he r \par upward. High above, the cabin door stood open like a tiny puncture wound on the \par side of a gargantuan silver whale. She moved toward the darkened entryway and \p ar felt her confidence starting to ebb. \par Easy, Rachel. It\rquote s just a plane. \par \page\par On the landing, the Secret Serviceman politely took her arm and guided her into a \par surprisingly narrow corridor. They turned right, walked a short distance, and \p ar emerged into a luxurious and spacious cabin. Rachel immediately recognized it \p ar

from photographs. \par \ldblquote Wait here,\rdblquote the serviceman said, and he disappeared. \par Rachel stood alone in Air Force One\rquote s famous wood-paneled fore cabin. Thi s was \par the room used for meetings, entertaining dignitaries, and, apparently, for scari ng \par the hell out of first-time passengers. The room spanned the entire width of the \par plane, as did its thick tan carpeting. The furnishings were impeccable\emdash co rdovan \par leather armchairs around a bird\rquote s-eye maple meeting table, burnished bras s floor \par lamps beside a continental sofa, and hand-etched crystal glassware on a mahogany \par wet bar. \par Supposedly, Boeing designers had carefully laid out this fore cabin to provide \ par passengers with \ldblquote a sense of order mixed with tranquility.\rdblquote T ranquility, however, \par was the last thing Rachel Sexton was feeling at the moment. The only thing she \ par could think of was the number of world leaders who had sat in this very room and \par made decisions that shaped the world. \par Everything about this room said power, from the faint aroma of fine pipe tobacco \par to the ubiquitous presidential seal. The eagle clasping the arrows and olive \pa r branches was embroidered on throw pillows, carved into the ice bucket, and even \par printed on the cork coasters on the bar. Rachel picked up a coaster and examined \par it. \par \ldblquote Stealing souvenirs already?\rdblquote a deep voice asked behind her. \par Startled, Rachel wheeled, dropping the coaster on the floor. She knelt awkwardly \par to retrieve it. As she grasped the coaster, she turned to see the President of t he \par United States gazing down at her with an amused grin. \par \ldblquote I\rquote m not royalty, Ms. Sexton. There\rquote s really no need to kneel.\rdblquote \par \page\par 7\par Senator Sedgewick Sexton savored the privacy of his Lincoln stretch limousine as \par it snaked through Washington\rquote s morning traffic toward his office. Across from \par him, Gabrielle Ashe, his twenty-four-year-old personal assistant, read him his \ par daily schedule. Sexton was barely listening. \par I love Washington, he thought, admiring the assistant\rquote s perfect shape ben eath her \par cashmere sweater. Power is the greatest aphrodisiac of all\'85and it brings wome n \par like this to D.C. in droves. \par Gabrielle was a New York Ivy Leaguer with dreams of being a senator herself one \par day. She\rquote ll make it too, Sexton thought. She was incredible-looking and s harp as a \par

whip. Above all, she understood the rules of the game. \par Gabrielle Ashe was black, but her tawny coloring was more of a deep cinnamon or \par mahogany, the kind of comfortable in-between that Sexton knew bleeding heart \pa r \ldblquote whites\rdblquote could endorse without feeling like they were giving away the farm. \par Sexton described Gabrielle to his cronies as Halle Berry\rquote s looks with Hil lary \par Clinton\rquote s brains and ambition, although sometimes he thought even that wa s an \par understatement. \par Gabrielle had been a tremendous asset to his campaign since he\rquote d promoted her to \par his personal campaign assistant three months ago. And to top it all off, she was \par working for free. Her compensation for a sixteen-hour workday was learning the \ par ropes in the trenches with a seasoned politician. \par Of course, Sexton gloated, I\rquote ve persuaded her to do a bit more than just work. \par After promoting Gabrielle, Sexton had invited her to a late night \ldblquote ori entation \par session\rdblquote in his private office. As expected, his young assistant arriv ed starstruck \par \page\par and eager to please. With a slow-moving patience mastered over decades, Sexton \ par worked his magic\'85building up Gabrielle\rquote s trust, carefully stripping aw ay her \par inhibitions, exhibiting tantalizing control, and finally seducing her right ther e in \par his office. \par Sexton had little doubt the encounter had been one of the most sexually gratifyi ng \par experiences of the young woman\rquote s life, and yet, in the light of the day, Gabrielle \par clearly regretted the indiscretion. Embarrassed, she offered to resign. Sexton \ par refused. Gabrielle stayed on, but she made her intentions very clear. The \par relationship had been strictly business ever since. \par Gabrielle\rquote s pouty lips were still moving. \ldblquote\'85don\rquote t want you to be lackadaisical \par going into this CNN debate this afternoon. We still don\rquote t know who the Wh ite \par House is sending as opposition. You\rquote ll want to peruse these notes I typed .\rdblquote She \par handed him a folder. \par Sexton took the folder, savoring the scent of her perfume mixed with the plush \ par leather seats. \par \ldblquote You aren\rquote t listening,\rdblquote she said. \par \ldblquote Certainly am.\rdblquote He grinned. \ldblquote Forget about this CNN debate. Worst case scenario, \par the White House snubs me by sending some low-level campaign intern. Best case \p ar scenario, they send a bigwig, and I eat him for lunch.\rdblquote \par Gabrielle frowned. \ldblquote Fine. I\rquote ve included a list of the most prob able hostile topics in \par your notes.\rdblquote \par

\ldblquote The usual suspects no doubt.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote With one new entry. I think you might face some hostile backlash from the gay \par community for your comments last night on Larry King.\rdblquote \par Sexton shrugged, barely listening. \ldblquote Right. The same-sex marriage thing .\rdblquote \par \page\par Gabrielle gave him a disapproving look. \ldblquote You did come out against it p retty \par strongly.\rdblquote \par Same-sex marriages, Sexton thought in disgust. If it were up to me, the faggots \par wouldn\rquote t even have the right to vote. \ldblquote Okay, I\rquote ll turn i t down a notch.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Good. You\rquote ve been pushing the envelope a bit on some of these hot topics lately. \par Don\rquote t get cocky. The public can turn in an instant. You\rquote re gaining now, and you \par have momentum. Just ride it out. There\rquote s no need to hit the ball out of t he park \par today. Just keep it in play.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Any news from the White House?\rdblquote \par Gabrielle looked pleasantly baffled. \ldblquote Continued silence. It\rquote s o fficial; your \par opponent has become the \lquote Invisible Man.\rquote\rdblquote \par Sexton could barely believe his good fortune lately. For months, the President h ad \par been working hard on the campaign trail. Then suddenly, a week ago, he had \par locked himself in the Oval Office, and nobody had seen or heard from him since. \par It was as if the President simply could not face Sexton\rquote s groundswell of voter \par support. \par Gabrielle ran a hand through her straightened black hair. \ldblquote I hear the White House \par campaign staff is as confused as we are. The President is offering no explanatio n \par for his vanishing act, and everyone over there is furious.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Any theories?\rdblquote Sexton asked. \par Gabrielle gazed at him over her scholarly glasses. \ldblquote As it turns out, I got some \par interesting data this morning from a contact of mine in the White House.\rdblquo te \par Sexton recognized the look in her eyes. Gabrielle Ashe had scored some insider \ par information again. Sexton wondered if she were giving some presidential aide \pa r backseat blow jobs in exchange for campaign secrets. Sexton didn\rquote t care\' 85so long \par as the information kept coming. \par \page\par \ldblquote Rumor has it,\rdblquote his assistant said, lowering her voice, \ldb lquote the President\rquote s strange \par behavior all started last week after an emergency private briefing with the \par administrator of NASA. Apparently the President emerged from the meeting \par looking dazed. He immediately cleared his schedule, and he\rquote s been in clos e \par contact with NASA ever since.\rdblquote \par Sexton certainly liked the sound of that. \ldblquote You think maybe NASA delive red some \par

more bad news?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Seems a logical explanation,\rdblquote she said hopefully. \ldblquot e Although it would have to be \par pretty critical to make the President drop everything.\rdblquote \par Sexton considered it. Obviously, whatever was going on with NASA had to be bad \ par news. Otherwise the President would throw it in my face. Sexton had been \par pounding the President pretty hard on NASA funding lately. The space agency\rquo te s \par recent string of failed missions and gargantuan budget overruns had earned NASA \par the dubious honor of becoming Sexton\rquote s unofficial poster child against bi g \par government overspending and inefficiency. Admittedly, attacking NASA\emdash one of \par the most prominent symbols of American pride\emdash was not the way most politic ians \par would think of winning votes, but Sexton had a weapon few other politicians \par had\emdash Gabrielle Ashe. And her impeccable instincts. \par The savvy young woman had come to Sexton\rquote s attention several months ago w hen \par she was working as a coordinator in Sexton\rquote s Washington campaign office. With \par Sexton trailing badly in the primary polls and his message of government \par overspending falling on deaf ears, Gabrielle Ashe wrote him a note suggesting a \par radical new campaign angle. She told the senator he should attack NASA\rquote s huge \par budget overruns and continued White House bailouts as the quintessential \par example of President Herney\rquote s careless overspending. \par \ldblquote NASA is costing Americans a fortune,\rdblquote Gabrielle wrote, incl uding a list of \par financial figures, failures, and bailouts. \ldblquote Voters have no idea. They would be \par horrified. I think you should make NASA a political issue.\rdblquote \par \page\par Sexton groaned at her na\'efvet\'e9. \ldblquote Yeah, and while I\rquote m at it , I\rquote ll rail against singing \par the national anthem at baseball games.\rdblquote \par In the weeks that followed, Gabrielle continued to send information about NASA \ par across the senator\rquote s desk. The more Sexton read, the more he realized thi s young \par Gabrielle Ashe had a point. Even by government agency standards, NASA was an \pa r astounding money pit\emdash expensive, inefficient, and, in recent years, grossl y \par incompetent. \par One afternoon Sexton was doing an on-air interview about education. The host \pa r was pressing Sexton about where he would find funding for his promised overhaul \par of public schools. In response, Sexton decided to test Gabrielle\rquote s NASA t heory \par with a half-joking response. \ldblquote Money for education?\rdblquote he said. \ldblquote Well, maybe I\rquote ll cut \par the space program in half. I figure if NASA can spend fifteen billion a year in \par space, I should be able to spend seven and a half billion on the kids here on ea rth.\rdblquote \par

In the transmission booth, Sexton\rquote s campaign managers gasped in horror at the \par careless remark. After all, entire campaigns had been sunk by far less than taki ng a \par potshot at NASA. Instantly, the phone lines at the radio station lit up. Sexton\ rquote s \par campaign managers cringed; the space patriots were circling for the kill. \par Then something unexpected happened. \par \ldblquote Fifteen billion a year?\rdblquote the first caller said, sounding sh ocked. \ldblquote With a B? Are \par you telling me that my son\rquote s math class is overcrowded because schools ca n\rquote t \par afford enough teachers, and NASA is spending fifteen billion dollars a year taki ng \par pictures of space dust?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Um\'85that\rquote s right,\rdblquote Sexton said warily. \par \ldblquote Absurd! Does the President have the power to do something about that? \rdblquote \par \ldblquote Absolutely,\rdblquote Sexton replied, gaining confidence. \ldblquote A President can veto the \par budget request of any agency he or she deems overfunded.\rdblquote \par \page\par \ldblquote Then you have my vote, Senator Sexton. Fifteen billion for space rese arch, and \par our kids don\rquote t have teachers. It\rquote s outrageous! Good luck, sir. I h ope you go all the \par way.\rdblquote \par The next caller came on the line. \ldblquote Senator, I just read that NASA\rquo te s International \par Space Station is way overbudget and the President is thinking of giving NASA \pa r emergency funding to keep the project going. Is that true?\rdblquote \par Sexton jumped at this one. \ldblquote True!\rdblquote He explained that the spa ce station was \par originally proposed as a joint venture, with twelve countries sharing the costs. But \par after construction began, the station\rquote s budget spiraled wildly out of con trol, and \par many countries dropped out in disgust. Rather than scrapping the project, the \p ar President decided to cover everyone\rquote s expenses. \ldblquote Our cost for t he ISS project,\rdblquote \par Sexton announced, \ldblquote has risen from the proposed eight billion to a stag gering one \par hundred billion dollars!\rdblquote \par The caller sounded furious. \ldblquote Why the hell doesn\rquote t the President pull the plug!\rdblquote \par Sexton could have kissed the guy. \ldblquote Damn good question. Unfortunately, one third \par of the building supplies are already in orbit, and the President spent your tax \par dollars putting them there, so pulling the plug would be admitting he made a \pa r multibillion-dollar blunder with your money.\rdblquote \par The calls kept coming. For the first time, it seemed Americans were waking up to \par the idea that NASA was an option\emdash not a national fixture. \par When the show was over, with the exception of a few NASA diehards calling in \pa r with poignant overtures about man\rquote s eternal quest for knowledge, the cons

ensus \par was in: Sexton\rquote s campaign had stumbled onto the holy grail of campaigning \emdash a \par new \ldblquote hot button\rdblquote\emdash a yet untapped controversial issue th at struck a nerve with \par voters. \par In the weeks that followed, Sexton trounced his opponents in five crucial \par primaries. He announced Gabrielle Ashe as his new personal campaign assistant, \ par praising her for her work in bringing the NASA issue to the voters. With the wav e \par \page\par of a hand, Sexton had made a young African-American woman a rising political \pa r star, and the issue of his racist and sexist voting record disappeared overnight . \par Now, as they sat together in the limousine, Sexton knew Gabrielle had yet again \par proven her worth. Her new information about last week\rquote s secret meeting be tween \par the NASA administrator and the President certainly suggested more NASA \par troubles were brewing\emdash perhaps another country pulling funding from the sp ace \par station. \par As the limousine passed the Washington Monument, Senator Sexton could not \par help but feel he had been anointed by destiny. \par 8\par Despite having ascended to the most powerful political office in the world, \par President Zachary Herney was average in height, with a slender build and narrow \par shoulders. He had a freckled face, bifocals, and thinning black hair. His \par unimposing physique, however, stood in stark contrast to the almost princely lov e \par the man commanded from those who knew him. It was said that if you met Zach \par Herney once, you would walk to the ends of the earth for him. \par \ldblquote So glad you could make it,\rdblquote President Herney said, reaching out to shake \par Rachel\rquote s hand. His grasp was warm and sincere. \par Rachel fought the frog in her throat. \ldblquote Of\'85course, Mr. President. An honor to \par meet you.\rdblquote \par The President gave her a comforting grin, and Rachel sensed firsthand the \par legendary Herney affability. The man possessed an easygoing countenance \par political cartoonists loved because no matter how skewed a rendition they drew, \par no one ever mistook the man\rquote s effortless warmth and amiable smile. His ey es \par \page\par mirrored sincerity and dignity at all times. \par \ldblquote If you follow me,\rdblquote he said in a cheery voice, \ldblquote I\ rquote ve got a cup of coffee with your \par name on it.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Thank you, sir.\rdblquote \par The President pressed the intercom and called for some coffee in his office. \pa r As Rachel followed the President through the plane, she could not help but notic e \par that he looked extremely happy and well-rested for a man who was down in the \pa r polls. He was also very casually dressed\emdash blue jeans, a polo shirt, and L.

L. Bean \par hiking boots. \par Rachel tried to make conversation. \ldblquote Doing\'85some hiking, Mr. Presiden t?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Not at all. My campaign advisers have decided this should be my new l ook. What \par do you think?\rdblquote \par Rachel hoped for his sake that he wasn\rquote t serious. \ldblquote It\rquote s very\'85um\'85manly, sir.\rdblquote \par Herney was deadpan. \ldblquote Good. We\rquote re thinking it will help me win b ack some of the \par women\rquote s vote from your father.\rdblquote After a beat, the President bro ke into a broad \par smile. \ldblquote Ms. Sexton, that was a joke. I think we both know I\rquote ll need more than a \par polo shirt and blue jeans to win this election.\rdblquote \par The President\rquote s openness and good humor were quickly evaporating any tens ion \par Rachel felt about being there. What this President lacked in physical brawn, he \par more than made up for in diplomatic rapport. Diplomacy was about people skills, \par and Zach Herney had the gift. \par Rachel followed the President toward the back of the plane. The deeper they went , \par the less the interior resembled a plane\emdash curved hallways, wallpapered wall s, even \par an exercise room complete with StairMaster and rowing machine. Oddly, the \par plane seemed almost entirely deserted. \par \page\par \ldblquote Traveling alone, Mr. President?\rdblquote \par He shook his head. \ldblquote Just landed, actually.\rdblquote \par Rachel was surprised. Landed from where? Her intel briefs this week had included \par nothing about presidential travel plans. Apparently he was using Wallops Island to \par travel quietly. \par \ldblquote My staff deplaned right before you arrived,\rdblquote the President said. \ldblquote I\rquote m headed back \par to the White House shortly to meet them, but I wanted to meet you here instead o f \par my office.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Trying to intimidate me?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote On the contrary. Trying to respect you, Ms. Sexton. The White House i s anything \par but private, and news of a meeting between the two of us would put you in an \pa r awkward position with your father.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I appreciate that, sir.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote It seems you\rquote re managing a delicate balancing act quite gracef ully, and I see no \par reason to disrupt that.\rdblquote \par Rachel flashed on her breakfast meeting with her father and doubted that it \par qualified as \ldblquote graceful.\rdblquote Nonetheless, Zach Herney was going out of his way to be \par decent, and he certainly didn\rquote t have to. \par \ldblquote May I call you Rachel?\rdblquote Herney asked. \par \ldblquote Of course.\rdblquote May I call you Zach? \par \ldblquote My office,\rdblquote the President said, ushering her through a carv ed maple door. \par

The office aboard Air Force One certainly was cozier than its White House \par counterpart, but its furnishings still carried an air of austerity. The desk was \par \page\par mounded with papers, and behind it hung an imposing oil painting of a classic, \ par three-masted schooner under full sail trying to outrun a raging storm. It seemed a \par perfect metaphor for Zach Herney\rquote s presidency at the moment. \par The President offered Rachel one of the three executive chairs facing his desk. She \par sat. Rachel expected him to sit behind his desk, but instead he pulled one of th e \par chairs up and sat next to her. \par Equal footing, she realized. The master of rapport. \par \ldblquote Well, Rachel,\rdblquote Herney said, sighing tiredly as he settled i nto his chair. \ldblquote I imagine \par you\rquote ve got to be pretty damned confused to be sitting here right now, am I right?\rdblquote \par Whatever was left of Rachel\rquote s guard crumbled away with the candor in the man\rquote s \par voice. \ldblquote Actually, sir, I\rquote m baffled.\rdblquote \par Herney laughed out loud. \ldblquote Terrific. It\rquote s not every day I can ba ffle someone from \par the NRO.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote It\rquote s not every day someone from the NRO is invited aboard Air Force One by a \par President in hiking boots.\rdblquote \par The President laughed again. \par A quiet rap on the office door announced the arrival of coffee. One of the fligh t \par crew entered with a steaming pewter pot and two pewter mugs on a tray. At the \p ar President\rquote s bidding, she laid the tray on the desk and disappeared. \par \ldblquote Cream and sugar?\rdblquote the President asked, standing up to pour. \par \ldblquote Cream, please.\rdblquote Rachel savored the rich aroma. The Presiden t of the United \par States is personally serving me coffee? \par Zach Herney handed her a heavy pewter mug. \ldblquote Authentic Paul Revere,\rdb lquote he said. \par \ldblquote One of the little luxuries.\rdblquote \par \page\par Rachel sipped the coffee. It was the best she had ever tasted. \par \ldblquote Anyhow,\rdblquote the President said, pouring himself a cup and sitt ing back down, \ldblquote I\rquote ve \par got limited time here, so let\rquote s get to business.\rdblquote The President plopped a sugar cube \par in his coffee and gazed up at her. \ldblquote I imagine Bill Pickering warned yo u that the \par only reason I would want to see you would be to use you to my political \par advantage?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Actually, sir, that\rquote s exactly what he said.\rdblquote \par The President chuckled. \ldblquote Always the cynic.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote So he\rquote s wrong?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Are you kidding?\rdblquote the President laughed. \ldblquote Bill Pi ckering is never wrong. He\rquote s \par dead-on as usual.\rdblquote \par 9\par Gabrielle Ashe gazed absently out the window of Senator Sexton\rquote s limousin

e as it \par moved through the morning traffic toward Sexton\rquote s office building. She wo ndered \par how the hell she had arrived at this point in her life. Personal assistant to Se nator \par Sedgewick Sexton. This was exactly what she had wanted, wasn\rquote t it? \par I\rquote m sitting in a limousine with the next President of the United States. \par Gabrielle stared across the car\rquote s plush interior at the senator, who seem ed to be far \par away in his own thoughts. She admired his handsome features and perfect attire. \par He looked presidential. \par Gabrielle had first seen Sexton speak when she was a poli-sci major at Cornell \ par \page\par University three years ago. She would never forget how his eyes probed the \par audience, as if sending a message directly to her\emdash trust me. After Sexton\ rquote s speech, \par Gabrielle waited in line to meet him. \par \ldblquote Gabrielle Ashe,\rdblquote the senator said, reading her name tag. \l dblquote A lovely name for a \par lovely young woman.\rdblquote His eyes were reassuring. \par \ldblquote Thank you, sir,\rdblquote Gabrielle replied, feeling the man\rquote s strength as she shook his \par hand. \ldblquote I was really impressed by your message.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Glad to hear it!\rdblquote Sexton thrust a business card into her ha nd. \ldblquote I\rquote m always looking \par for bright young minds who share my vision. When you get out of school, track \p ar me down. My people may have a job for you.\rdblquote \par Gabrielle opened her mouth to thank him, but the senator was already on to the \ par next person in line. Nonetheless, in the months that followed, Gabrielle found \ par herself following Sexton\rquote s career on television. She watched with admirat ion as he \par spoke out against big government spending\emdash spearheading budget cuts, \par streamlining the IRS to work more effectively, trimming fat at the DEA, and even \par abolishing redundant civil service programs. Then, when the senator\rquote s wif e died \par suddenly in a car crash, Gabrielle watched in awe as Sexton somehow turned the \ par negative into a positive. Sexton rose above his personal pain and declared to th e \par world that he would be running for the presidency and dedicating the remainder o f \par his public service to his wife\rquote s memory. Gabrielle decided right then and there that \par she wanted to work closely with Senator Sexton\rquote s presidential campaign. \ par Now she had gotten as close as anyone could get. \par Gabrielle recalled the night she had spent with Sexton in his plush office, and she \par cringed, trying to block out the embarrassing images in her mind. What was I \pa r thinking? She knew she should have resisted, but somehow she\rquote d found hers elf \par unable. Sedgewick Sexton had been an idol of hers for so long\'85and to think he

\par wanted her. \par The limousine hit a bump, jarring her thoughts back to the present. \par \page\par \ldblquote You okay?\rdblquote Sexton was watching her now. \par Gabrielle flashed a hurried smile. \ldblquote Fine.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote You aren\rquote t still thinking about that drudge, are you?\rdblquot e \par She shrugged. \ldblquote I\rquote m still a little worried, yeah.\rdblquote \pa r \ldblquote Forget it. The drudge was the best thing that ever happened to my cam paign.\rdblquote \par A drudge, Gabrielle had learned the hard way, was the political equivalent of \p ar leaking information that your rival used a penis enlarger or subscribed to Stud \par Muffin magazine. Drudging wasn\rquote t a glamorous tactic, but when it paid off , it paid \par off big. \par Of course, when it backfired\'85 \par And backfire, it had. For the White House. About a month ago, the President\rquo te s \par campaign staff, unsettled by the slipping polls, had decided to get aggressive a nd \par leak a story they suspected to be true\emdash that Senator Sexton had engaged in an \par affair with his personal assistant, Gabrielle Ashe. Unfortunately for the White \par House, there was no hard evidence. Senator Sexton, a firm believer in the best \ par defense is a strong offense, seized the moment for attack. He called a national \par press conference to proclaim his innocence and outrage. I cannot believe, he sai d, \par gazing into the cameras with pain in his eyes, that the President would dishonor \par my wife\rquote s memory with these malicious lies. \par Senator Sexton\rquote s performance on TV was so convincing that Gabrielle herse lf \par practically believed they had not slept together. Seeing how effortlessly he lie d, \par Gabrielle realized that Senator Sexton was indeed a dangerous man. \par Lately, although Gabrielle was certain she was backing the strongest horse in th is \par presidential race, she had begun to question whether she was backing the best \p ar horse. Working closely with Sexton had been an eye-opening experience\emdash aki n to \par \page\par a behind-the-scenes tour of Universal Studios, where one\rquote s childlike awe over the \par movies is sullied by the realization that Hollywood isn\rquote t magic after all . \par Although Gabrielle\rquote s faith in Sexton\rquote s message remained intact, sh e was \par beginning to question the messenger. \par 10 \par \ldblquote What I am about to tell you, Rachel,\rdblquote the President said, \ ldblquote is classified \lquote UMBRA.\rquote \par Well beyond your current security clearance.\rdblquote \par

Rachel felt the walls of Air Force One closing in around her. The President had \par flown her to Wallops Island, invited her onboard his plane, poured her coffee, t old \par her flat out that he intended to use her to political advantage against her own \par father, and now he was announcing he intended to give her classified information \par illegally. However affable Zach Herney appeared on the surface, Rachel Sexton \p ar had just learned something important about him. This man took control in a hurry . \par \ldblquote Two weeks ago,\rdblquote the President said, locking eyes with her, \ldblquote NASA made a \par discovery.\rdblquote \par The words hung a moment in the air before Rachel could process them. A NASA \par discovery? Recent intelligence updates had suggested nothing out of the ordinary \par going on with the space agency. Of course, these days a \ldblquote NASA discover y\rdblquote \par usually meant realizing they\rquote d grossly under budgeted some new project. \ par \ldblquote Before we talk further,\rdblquote the President said, \ldblquote I\r quote d like to know if you share your \par father\rquote s cynicism over space exploration.\rdblquote \par Rachel resented the comment. \ldblquote I certainly hope you didn\rquote t call me here to ask me \par to control my father\rquote s rants against NASA.\rdblquote \par \page\par He laughed. \ldblquote Hell, no. I\rquote ve been around the Senate long enough to know that \par nobody controls Sedgewick Sexton.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote My father is an opportunist, sir. Most successful politicians are. An d \par unfortunately NASA has made itself an opportunity.\rdblquote The recent string of NASA \par errors had been so unbearable that one either had to laugh or cry\emdash satelli tes that \par disintegrated in orbit, space probes that never called home, the International S pace \par Station budget rising tenfold and member countries bailing out like rats from a \par sinking ship. Billions were being lost, and Senator Sexton was riding it like a \par wave\emdash a wave that seemed destined to carry him to the shores of 1600 \par Pennsylvania Avenue. \par \ldblquote I will admit,\rdblquote the President continued, \ldblquote NASA has been a walking disaster area \par lately. Every time I turn around, they give me yet another reason to slash their \par funding.\rdblquote \par Rachel saw her opening for a foothold and took it. \ldblquote And yet, sir, didn \rquote t I just read \par that you bailed them out last week with another three million in emergency \par funding to keep them solvent?\rdblquote \par The President chuckled. \ldblquote Your father was pleased with that one, wasn\r quote t he?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Nothing like sending ammunition to your executioner.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Did you hear him on Nightline? \lquote Zach Herney is a space addict, and the \par

taxpayers are funding his habit.\rquote\rdblquote \par \ldblquote But you keep proving him right, sir.\rdblquote \par Herney nodded. \ldblquote I make it no secret that I\rquote m an enormous fan of NASA. I always \par have been. I was a child of the space race\emdash Sputnik, John Glenn, Apollo 11 \emdash and \par I have never hesitated to express my feelings of admiration and national pride f or \par our space program. In my mind, the men and women of NASA are history\rquote s \p ar modern pioneers. They attempt the impossible, accept failure, and then go back t o \par \page\par the drawing board while the rest of us stand back and criticize.\rdblquote \par Rachel remained silent, sensing that just below the President\rquote s calm exte rior was \par an indignant rage over her father\rquote s endless anti-NASA rhetoric. Rachel fo und \par herself wondering what the hell NASA had found. The President was certainly \par taking his time coming to the point. \par \ldblquote Today,\rdblquote Herney said, his voice intensifying, \ldblquote I i ntend to change your entire \par opinion of NASA.\rdblquote \par Rachel eyed him with uncertainty. \ldblquote You have my vote already, sir. You may want \par to concentrate on the rest of the country.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I intend to.\rdblquote He took a sip of coffee and smiled. \ldblquot e And I\rquote m going to ask you to \par help me.\rdblquote Pausing, he leaned toward her. \ldblquote In a most unusual way.\rdblquote \par Rachel could now feel Zach Herney scrutinizing her every move, like a hunter \pa r trying to gauge if his prey intended to run or fight. Unfortunately, Rachel saw \par nowhere to run. \par \ldblquote I assume,\rdblquote the President said, pouring them both more coffe e, \ldblquote that you\rquote re aware \par of a NASA project called EOS?\rdblquote \par Rachel nodded. \ldblquote Earth Observation System. I believe my father has ment ioned \par EOS once or twice.\rdblquote \par The weak attempt at sarcasm drew a frown from the President. The truth was that \par Rachel\rquote s father mentioned the Earth Observation System every chance he go t. It \par was one of NASA\rquote s most controversial big-ticket ventures\emdash a constel lation of five \par satellites designed to look down from space and analyze the planet\rquote s envi ronment: \par ozone depletion, polar ice melt, global warming, rainforest defoliation. The int ent \par was to provide environmentalists with never before seen macroscopic data so that \par they could plan better for earth\rquote s future. \par Unfortunately, the EOS project had been wrought with failure. Like so many \par \page\par NASA projects of late, it had been plagued with costly overruns right from the \ par start. And Zach Herney was the one taking the heat. He had used the support of \ par

the environmental lobby to push the $1.4 billion EOS project through Congress. \ par But rather than delivering the promised contributions to global earth science, E OS \par had spiraled quickly into a costly nightmare of failed launches, computer \par malfunctions, and somber NASA press conferences. The only smiling face lately \p ar was that of Senator Sexton, who was smugly reminding voters just how much of \pa r their money the President had spent on EOS and just how lukewarm the returns \pa r had been. \par The President dropped a sugar cube into his mug. \ldblquote As surprising as thi s may \par sound, the NASA discovery I\rquote m referring to was made by EOS.\rdblquote \p ar Now Rachel felt lost. If EOS had enjoyed a recent success, NASA certainly would \par have announced it, wouldn\rquote t they? Her father had been crucifying EOS in t he \par media, and the space agency could use any good news they could find. \par \ldblquote I\rquote ve heard nothing,\rdblquote Rachel said, \ldblquote about a ny EOS discovery.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote I know. NASA prefers to keep the good news to themselves for a while. \rdblquote \par Rachel doubted it. \ldblquote In my experience, sir, when it comes to NASA, no n ews is \par generally bad news.\rdblquote Restraint was not a forte of the NASA public rela tions \par department. The standing joke at the NRO was that NASA held a press conference \ par every time one of their scientists so much as farted. \par The President frowned. \ldblquote Ah, yes. I forget I\rquote m talking to one of Pickering\rquote s NRO \par security disciples. Is he still moaning and groaning about NASA\rquote s loose l ips?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote Security is his business, sir. He takes it very seriously.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote He damn well better. I just find it hard to believe that two agencies with so much \par in common constantly find something to fight about.\rdblquote \par Rachel had learned early in her tenure under William Pickering that although bot h \par \page\par NASA and the NRO were space-related agencies, they had philosophies that were \p ar polar opposites. The NRO was a defense agency and kept all of its space activiti es \par classified, while NASA was academic and excitedly publicized all of its \par breakthroughs around the globe\emdash often, William Pickering argued, at the ri sk of \par national security. Some of NASA\rquote s finest technologies\emdash high-resolut ion lenses for \par satellite telescopes, long-range communications systems, and radio imaging \par devices\emdash had a nasty habit of appearing in the intelligence arsenal of hos tile \par countries and being used to spy against us. Bill Pickering often grumbled that \ par NASA scientists had big brains\'85and even bigger mouths. \par A more pointed issue between the agencies, however, was the fact that because \p

ar NASA handled the NRO\rquote s satellite launches, many of NASA\rquote s recent f ailures \par directly affected the NRO. No failure had been more dramatic than that of August \par 12, 1998, when a NASA/Air Force Titan 4 rocket blew up forty seconds into \par launch and obliterated its payload\emdash a $1.2 billion NRO satellite code-name d \par Vortex 2. Pickering seemed particularly unwilling to forget that one. \par \ldblquote So why hasn\rquote t NASA gone public about this recent success?\rdbl quote Rachel challenged. \par \ldblquote They certainly could use some good news right now.\rdblquote \par \ldblquote NASA is being silent,\rdblquote the President declared, \ldblquote b ecause I ordered them to be.\rdblquote \par Rachel wondered if she had heard him correctly. If so, the President was \par committing some kind of political hara-kiri that she did not understand. \par \ldblquote This discovery,\rdblquote the President said, \ldblquote is\'85shall we say\'85nothing short of \par astounding in its ramifications.\rdblquote \par Rachel felt an uneasy chill. In the world of intelligence, \ldblquote astounding \par ramifications\rdblquote seldom meant good news. She now wondered if all the EOS \par secrecy was on account of the satellite system having spotted some impending \pa r environmental disaster. \ldblquote Is there a problem?\rdblquote \par \ldblquote No problem at all. What EOS discovered is quite wonderful.\rdblquote \par \page\par Rachel fell silent. \par \ldblquote Suppose, Rachel, that I told you NASA has just made a discovery of su ch \par scientific importance\'85such earth-shattering significance\'85that it validated every \par dollar Americans have ever spent in space?\rdblquote \par Rachel could not imagine. \par The President stood up. \ldblquote Let\rquote s take a walk, shall we?\rdblquote \par 11 \par Rachel followed President Herney out onto the gliste\par \par dual pair of transparent, hinged, silicon-leaf wings, giving it unparalleled mob ility \par and effici\par \b0\f1\par }

You might also like