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CHAPTER FIVE

AGENDAS

The meeting room was one level down from the surface, and had a high ceiling. Six men sat around a large oaken table in dim red light coming from panels above them. They were cloaked and hooded for anonymity and wore earphones connected to a translator module in the center of the table. Two others were not present, but participated via closed circuit television; a camera and video monitor were mounted at one end of the table where the others could see everyone. Heat flowed into the room from floor grates, and a humidifier sprayed a fine mist from one corner of the room. This was in answer to the requests of two of the council members who were suffering uncomfortable skin conditions aggravated by the Arizona heat.

“All are present, so let’s begin,” said Mister Brown, the chairman. “Mister White will read the minutes of the previous meeting.”

The man called Mister White, also a Green, like his chairman, read the minutes, pausing occasionally for the translator to catch up in transmitting his words in four different languages for the council members.”

“Are there any corrections or additions?”

There were none.

“Under new business, I have an announcement. A new analyst has arrived to participate in Shooting Star. There’s some disagreement among our American colleagues as to what agency he works for and why he’s here. If you check your files you’ll see he’s a top program and technology analyst, involved most recently with the Ju-67 lifter package, which surfaced in Sophia. Excellent credentials, and he’s worked for several agencies, including the military, a situation I personally do not find unusual, but the Americans are suffering from their usual paranoia.”

“Well, there have been problems here,” said Mister White. “I don’t think they’re accidents, and neither do you. I can assure all of you the Green Party is not involved with the problem, but it will participate in the solution. I know we have differing views on how and when the drive technology should be revealed, but we all agreed it would eventually be done, and sabotage, either overt or covert, will not be tolerated.”

“Are you pointing a finger at anyone in particular?” asked Mister Jones.

“Are you speaking for the Reds today?” asked Mister White.

“I am.”

“The Americans have a saying that if the shoe fits you wear it, so I suppose—”

“Nobody is being accused, Mister Jones,” said the chairman. “You must admit, however, that any saboteur involved can only be a member of the project and have access to internal correspondence.”

“Witness the damage done to the field generator. Only this Council and Colonel Davis knew when that was coming in,” said White.

“So maybe you should accuse Davis of something besides his usual corruption.”

“It would hardly be in his best interests to damage the technology his corporate masters would like to get their hands on. Whatever Davis does, he can always be diverted by money. He’s not the problem here. Someone wants the project slowed, or stopped. It’s logical to suspect those who have vocally opposed those goals after agreeing to our initial plan.”

“It was your plan,” said Jones.

“But you agreed to it. You all did,” said Mister Brown. “If you’ve changed your minds, then you should disassociate yourselves from the project. We can proceed without you.”

There was a pause, then, “I doubt you’re prepared to pay the political price for that kind of arrogance,” said Jones, and he looked down the table towards the television monitor. “I’d like to hear something from the Blues about now. Mister Smith?”

Again a long pause, and then a soft reply from one of the two-seated figures shown on the video screen, a kind of mumble quickly transformed into the metallic speech of the translator.

“We have nothing to gain personally by the success or failure of this project. Our objection from the beginning has been brought against giving any kind of technology to a political system we basically despise. In the end it will make fortunes for a few, and the common people will see little value from it. Our decision to participate was based on developing relations between the governments represented on this council, to show that after a century of squabbling we could actually work together on something. We have done that until recently, and now we’re squabbling again. Instead of pointing fingers regarding transfer of a technology that is already a generation old we should be asking who will benefit the most if we go our separate ways again.”

“Are you prepared to suggest someone to us?” asked the chairman. “It seems to me we were only having a discussion, not divisive argumentation.”

“But people who oppose the project for various reasons should not be equated with saboteurs who endanger or end lives. That was being inferred. I have no person or party in mind, but whoever it is has access to council discussions and physical access to the base. It could be one person, a group, or a government. It could be one or more of the Americans. This new man just arrived, this Eric Price, I think we all agree he’s more than a scientist or mathematician. The need for better and faster data analysis has been around a long time. When the sabotage began, he is suddenly here. I think he’s here to solve the problem for us, and we should not waste our time here with pointless accusations. We should be talking about getting a new airframe and converter in here to replace the one our American friends so stupidly damaged in the recent test. And we should at last give them the manual in simple English they can understand. That, at least, is in keeping with our agenda for this meeting.”

Chairman Brown quietly bit his tongue to divert an emotional outburst. “Point noted, Mister Jones. You can be certain the sabotage issue will be on next meeting’s agenda. And if there are any further unusual incidents, I’m sure this council can put together its own team of agents who won’t bother to deal with the perpetrators or their supporters in a humane way.”

“And we’ll we willing to contribute to that effort,” said Mister Jones.

“On to other business, then,” said Brown, and they moved on to discuss the logistics of bringing in all the necessary parts to replace what had been damaged or destroyed in the Americans’ hastily arranged and ill-fated test. Eric Price was added to the assignments of the watch team, and there was a report on the deuterium separation facility under construction two hundred miles east of Fiji.

The hour ended, and the meeting was adjourned. The video monitor was shut down, and everyone returned to their rooms before their American hosts had risen for a new day.

Mister Jones did not retire so soon. He went directly to his computer, selected one of four channels, addressed a short invitation for a private meeting, and sent it. A minute later the reply arrived on the open channel, voice mode, blank screen.

“Thank you for answering so quickly,” said Jones. “You can imagine how irritating the meeting was for me. I tried hard to hold my temper.”

“You did well, under the circumstances.” The voice coming from the computer was gravelly, slow-paced, and required no translation. “I’m not displeased with you.”

“I think the Greens are looking for an excuse to bring in their own military, sir. The man’s arrogance has become provocative. He practically dictates policy to the council.”

“In time it will trap him. The Blues are also displeased by his attitude. I’ve just heard from them. I think there might be an opportunity for an alliance.”

“But what do we do about the sabotage?”

“The perpetrators must be found, of course. We should all clean our own houses, but the Americans must not be a part of it. We cannot allow our structure to be revealed. And if the new agent they’ve brought in gets too close to our identities, even at the council level, he’ll have to be killed. It’ll be easy enough to blame it on the Americans. They’re already suspicious of him.”

“Any specific orders for me, sir? I truly regret my outburst today.”

“Do not be so critical of yourself, my friend. Be my eyes and ears, avoid provocation, but let the Greens know they are not going to define policy for the council. Tactfulness is desirable, but firmness is required.”

“Yes, sir.”

And the connection was broken.

Jones went right to bed, and was awake for only minutes. He was confident he was doing all that was required of him, and Control had even called him friend. That was a good sign.

* * * * * * *

Leon ordered lunch uptown at Burger Heaven at eleven, before the weekend mob of tourists got hungry enough to descend on the place. Quarter-pounder with curly fries and diet cola were ready in ten minutes, and he was the only person in line. He took his tray over to a rough-hewn table in the mall way between clothing and new age shops, and sat down facing the street. People crowded the walkway, and wandered in and out of the shops. Angelic music came from one doorway, along with the odor of aromatic oils and burning incense.

Leon ate slowly, starting with his fries. He was halfway through with his burger when a balding, heavyset man with a round face sat down opposite him. The man wore jeans, cowboy shirt and black Stetson. He placed a large cup of coffee on the table, took off his Stetson and put it on the bench beside him.

“Nothing to eat?” asked Leon.

Alexander Davis, Colonel, United States Army, scowled as Leon took a big bite out of his hamburger. “That thing you’re eating would stay in my stomach for a week.”

“Too much stress,” said Leon coldly, but smiled to make it a joke.

Davis uncapped his coffee, and took a cautious sip. “Price acknowledged my message. Pickup is at oh-five-hundred Monday.”

“Does it have to be so early? The party will run after midnight.”

“I don’t care about your party. I have a schedule to keep.”

“If it’ll make you happier, you could tell me who your corporate friends are, and I could send them an invitation. Nataly is the best hostess in town.”

“They contact me; I don’t contact them,” said Davis, “and all you are is hired help. Remember that.”

“As long as I’m well paid,” said Leon. He chewed thoughtfully while Davis took another sip of coffee, then, “So, when are you going to have something else for me?”

“Probably late next week. Our guests are preparing an instruction manual that covers the entire system. After the last test I told them we wouldn’t proceed without it.”

“Ah, so they really do know how that thing flies.”

“We’ll see. It could all be lies, and we’ll have to test everything, but a copy of the manual should be sent out right away. The usual way, from Phoenix, and if you send it to anyone except our clients I’ll know about it.”

“Of course,” said Leon, but thought, you just think you know things, asshole, but you don’t know jack-shit about what’s going on.

“Just reminding you,” said Davis, and then he softened, reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small envelope, folded in half. He handed it to Leon. The envelope felt soft, and bulky. “That’ll make you feel better. You’ll get the same in two weeks, and so on, as long as you do your job. Enjoy it. Buy a painting, or something.”

Leon pocketed the offering. “Give me some warning about delivery of the package.”

“Of course,” said Davis. “Well, gotta go. It’ll be a month before we can meet again like this. Check your P.O. box every day.”

Leon nodded. Davis got up and walked away behind Leon’s back.

Leon finished his cola leisurely, then went to his Humvee and drove directly to his bank to make a deposit.