Читать книгу The Prime Network - Gerard G. Nahum - Страница 8

3 THE CRISIS

ONE MORNING IN EARLY JUNE, TWO MEMBERS OF THE Secret Service knocked on Mr. Gregory’s door. They told him the president wanted to see him urgently. There was a limousine waiting outside to take him to the White House, and he left immediately.

When he arrived, he was escorted directly to the Situation Room beneath the West Wing. The president was seated at a large mahogany table with a dozen of his advisers. “Welcome, Mr. Gregory,” the president said as he motioned for him to take a seat.

Everyone around the table was intensely focused, and multiple world maps were projected on the walls.

“We have an interesting challenge,” the president said. “I’ll let Secretary Howard summarize the situation.”

The secretary of defense, a tall, mature-looking man in a dark suit, cleared his throat before speaking. “The issue involves a civilian freighter of Panamanian registry that is transiting through the Persian Gulf from a port in Iran,” he said, pointing to the region on the map. “It is sailing to the Arabian Sea carrying some sensitive materials. The Iranian government has been alerted as to what is aboard, and they are preparing to intercept it when it reaches the Strait of Hormuz.” He paused and glanced over at the president.

“Although we have the means to provide it with military support through the strait,” the president said, “it would risk a confrontation with Iranian forces. That could create an international incident, and it could also reveal what is aboard the ship. In the worst case, the ship could be attacked and its cargo lost. We don’t want that to happen.”

After another brief pause, the secretary spoke again. “Fortunately, what is aboard the freighter is sensitive enough that the Iranians don’t want to create an incident that would be visible to the international community either. Their goal is to retrieve the ship’s cargo discreetly and intact, so they’re waiting until the freighter reaches the strait to board it.”

“The gulf is only twenty miles wide at that point,” the president interjected. “So they can cover its entire span with their vessels.”

Mr. Gregory looked at his watch. “When will it get there?”

“In approximately six hours,” the secretary replied.

“Then there’s not much time,” Mr. Gregory said, furrowing his brow. “What happens after it gets through the strait?”

“Once it has transited the Gulf of Oman, it will enter open international waters in the Arabian Sea, where our naval vessels will be able to surround it and transfer its cargo securely.”

The president leaned forward and looked at Mr. Gregory with a penetrating gaze. “The question is, will you be able to ensure its safety through the strait?”

“I think it’s possible,” he replied.

“Possible or probable?” the secretary pressed him.

“I won’t know until I evaluate the Network,” he responded without elaborating further.

“Fair enough,” the president said definitively, pushing his chair back from the table. “Do you need anything else from us?”

“Not at the moment,” Mr. Gregory replied.

“We’ll be grateful for any help you can provide in this tricky situation,” the president said. “We have confidence in you.” He stood up and shook Mr. Gregory’s hand.

The Secret Service escorted Mr. Gregory out of the building, where another limousine was waiting to take him home.

When he arrived, he went downstairs to his basement and retrieved a small suitcase stored in a safe behind his water heater. It contained his equipment. Since no one knew what it was or how it operated, there was little risk it could be misused. He took it out and started a targeted scan of the Network.

Sure enough, when he focused in on the regions linked to the Strait of Hormuz, he saw a flurry of activity. Whole regions of nodes were rapidly exchanging information, and he could tell from the pattern of convergences that the Panamanian freighter was sailing on a course where it would soon be surrounded by more than a dozen Iranian vessels.

The options to intervene were limited and constricting rapidly. After considering a range of approaches, he settled on the one with the highest likelihood of success: changing the local weather conditions to be more favorable to the freighter’s passage. Night would soon fall, and a combination of three additional factors would provide the ship with an advantage for getting through the strait: high seas, wind, and fog.

Mr. Gregory identified the nodes that were mapped to the weather conditions in the area. Then he used his machine to focus a beam of photons on them and bathed them in energy. Soon he could see from the changing patterns on his screen that they were starting to transfer additional information on to other nodes, which then dispersed it more widely to other regions of the Network. As he watched, increasing amounts of information began to coalesce at nodes linked to the four-dimensional features of wind, temperature, and humidity in the strait. By delivering the additional energy to the nodes, he’d tipped them over the edge to produce the particular effects he was trying to induce in four dimensions.

Soon the strait had sustained winds of sixty miles per hour, fog, and forty-foot swells in the darkness. Those conditions would not lend themselves to the successful interception of the freighter by any of the other vessels in the region, and he could see from the changes in the Network’s activity that the ship would make it through the strait. He closed his machine and returned it to its suitcase. His work was done.

The following morning, he heard a knock at his door. The Secret Service agents were back. They told him that the president wanted to speak with him.

This time, when he arrived at the White House, he was taken to the Oval Office, where the president was huddled around his desk with his secretary of defense and secretary of state. They all seemed in a jovial mood, exchanging compliments and congratulations.

“Please sit down, Mr. Gregory,” the president said when he arrived. “I asked you here today to thank you. What you did yesterday was not only successful but also entirely without hint of any action on the part of the United States. It seems that some unusual natural phenomena changed the weather conditions in the Strait of Hormuz in a way that was both miraculous and unexpected.” He chuckled. “The freighter got through unscathed. No one could control that—except for you, of course.”

“I’m glad I could be of service, Mr. President,” he replied unemotionally.

“The entire country is indebted to you, Mr. Gregory,” the president said, flashing his trademark smile and opening his arms in a gesture of gratitude. “Many dedicated professionals worked diligently to get that cargo out of Iran, and they put their lives at risk to do so. You helped to get us out of a very difficult situation. I’m afraid that without your assistance, the outcome might have been different. Although the matter is sensitive enough that we can’t acknowledge your assistance publicly, I hope you’ll accept our sincerest thanks and allow us to call on you again if the situation warrants.”

“Of course,” Mr. Gregory replied. “I’ll help in whatever ways I can.”

“But you won’t tell us how you did it, will you?” the president added, clearly frustrated.

“I’d like to, but I haven’t worked it out fully yet,” he said. “It’s quite complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” the president replied. “However, I can assure you that we have many talented people at the Department of Defense. They’ll understand if you tell them.”

“I’ll be glad to do so when I have it perfected, Mr. President,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “But at this point, I’m afraid it’s still very much a work in progress.”

“Very well then, Mr. Gregory. I’ll hold you to that,” the president replied with a thin smile. “You just let us know when you’re ready.” He shook his hand, and Mr. Gregory was escorted out of the White House to a waiting limousine that took him home.

After Mr. Gregory left, the president ended his meeting with the members of his cabinet and dismissed them from his office. Then he called in his chief of staff.

“Alan, I don’t know what he has, but it’s allowing him to do things that are, frankly, extraordinary. We need to know more about it, and he doesn’t seem willing to tell us.”

“He is a presidential adviser, sir,” his chief of staff replied respectfully. “As a contingency to his appointment, he’s agreed to undergo lie detector tests as a routine matter—with or without cause.”

“I’m not sure that will help,” the president responded, visibly irritated. “I don’t think we have anyone with enough technical knowledge about what he’s doing to ask the right questions—at least not ones that would be incisive enough to get anything useful out of him.” He paused for a moment and drummed his fingers on his desk. “Whatever he has, it poses too much of a threat in the hands of a private citizen. It’s not something that we can continue to allow him to have unsupervised.”

“I understand, sir. How would you like to proceed?”

“I don’t think we have a choice. I want us to pull together all the resources we need to get hold of it. You have my authorization to do it, but everything needs to be legal—I don’t want the federal government accused of trampling on the intellectual or personal rights of a US citizen. And I don’t want whatever he has to create a test case in the courts regarding federal jurisdiction over private property. It needs to be done quietly and effectively—but with alacrity.”

“Yes, Mr. President. I’ll start on it right away.”

“Good,” the president said. “And one more thing. We can’t leave him loose out there anymore. What he knows is highly privileged. We need to know where he is at all times, and I want him protected everywhere he goes.”

“I’ll have Homeland Security place him under twenty-four-hour surveillance,” he answered dryly.

The president nodded his approval, and the chief of staff left his office. The president went back to the work on his desk.