Dragon - Cussler Clive. Страница 85

THE PRESIDENT STOOD on the green grass of the Congressional Country Club engaged in a late afternoon round of golf. “You’re sure about this? There is no mistake?”

Jordan nodded. He sat in a golf cart watching as the President studied a fairway from the fourteenth tee. “The bad news is confirmed by the fact the team is four hours behind their scheduled contact time.”

The President took an offered five iron from his caddie, who rude in another cart with a Secret Service agent. “Could they have been killed?”

“The only word we have from the British agent inside the Dragon Center is that they were captured soon after exiting the undersea tunnel into the command center installation.”

“What went wrong?”

“We didn’t take into consideration Suma’s army of robotic security forces. Without the budget to place intelligence operatives in Japan, we were ignorant of their advancement in robotics. Their technology in developing mechanical systems with human intelligence, vision, and superphysical movement came as a surprise.”

The President addressed the ball, swung, and stroked it to the edge of the green. Then he looked up at Jordan. He found it difficult if not impossible to comprehend a mechanical security force. “Actual robots that walk and talk?”

“Yes, sir, fully automated and highly mobile and armed to the teeth.”

“You said your people could walk through walls.”

“There are none better at what they do. Until now there was no such thing as a foolproof security system. But Suma’s vast technology created one. Our people met a computerized intelligence they weren’t trained to bypass, that no operative in the world is trained to overcome.”

The President slipped behind the wheel of the cart and pressed the accelerator pedal. “Any hope of a rescue mission to save your people?”

There was a moment’s silence as Jordan hesitated before continuing. “Doubtful. We have reason to believe Suma intends to execute them.”

The President felt a wave of pity for Jordan. It had to be a bitter pill for him to swallow, losing almost an entire MAIT team. No operation in national security history had suffered from such incredibly rotten luck.

“There’ll be hell to pay when Jim Sandecker hears that Pitt and Giordino are going down.”

“I don’t look forward to briefing him.”

“Then we must blow that damn island under the sea, and the Dragon Center with it.”

“We both know, Mr. President, the American public and world opinion would come down on you like a ton of bricks despite your attempt to stop a nuclear disaster in the making.”

“Then we send in our Delta Forces, and quick.”

“Delta Force teams are already standing by their aircraft at Anderson Air Force Base on Guam. But I advise we wait. We still have time for my people to accomplish their planned mission.”

“How, if they have no hope of escape?”

“They’re still the best, Mr. President. I don’t think we should write them off just yet.”

The President stopped his cart beside the ball that sat only a few centimeters from the green. The caddie ran up with a nine iron. The President looked at him and shook his head. “I can putt better than I can chip. You better let me have a putter.”

Two putts later the ball dropped in the cup. “I wish I had the patience for golf,” said Jordan as the President returned to the cart. “But I keep thinking there are more important things to devote my time to.”

“No man can go continuously without recharging his batteries,” said the President. He glanced at Jordan as he drove to the next tee. “What do you want from me, Ray?”

“Another eight hours, Mr. President, before you order in the Delta Forces.”

“You really think your people can still pull it off.”

“I think they should be given the chance.” Jordan paused. “And then there are two other considerations.”

“Such as?”

“The possibility Suma’s robots might cut our Delta Forces team to pieces before they could reach the command center.”

The President grinned dryly. “A robot may not go down under the assault of a martial arts expert, but they’re hardly immune to heavy weapons fire.”

“I give you that, sir, but they can lose an arm and still come at you, and they don’t bleed either.”

“And the other consideration?”

“We have been unable to uncover the whereabouts of Congresswoman Smith and Senator Diaz. We suspect there is a strong case to be made for them being held at Suma’s retreat on Soseki Island.”

“You’re stroking me, Ray. Brogan over at Langley is certain Smith and Diaz are under guard in Edo City. They were seen and identified at Suma’s guest quarters.” There was a long pause. “You know damned well I can’t afford to give you eight hours. If your team hasn’t resurfaced and completed their operation in four, I’m sending in the Delta Forces.”

“Suma’s island is bristling with defense missile systems. Any submarine attempting to land men within twenty kilometers of the shore would be blown out of the water and any aircraft dropping parachutists shot out of the sky. And should the Delta Forces somehow gain a foothold on Soseki, they’d be slaughtered before they could get inside the Dragon Center.”

The President gazed out on the course as the sun was settling into the treetops. “If your team has failed,” he said pensively, “then I’ll have to doom my political career and launch a nuclear bomb. I see no other way to stop the Kaiten Project before Suma has a chance to use it against us.”

In a room deep in Building C of the National Security Agency at Fort Meade, Clyde Ingram, the Director of Science and Technical Data Interpretation, sat in a comfortable chair and studied a giant television screen. The imagery detail from the latest advance in reconnaissance satellites was unbelievable.

Thrown into space on a secret shuttle mission, the Pyramider satellite was far more versatile than its predecessor, the Sky King. Instead of providing only detailed photos and video of the land and sea surface, its three systems also revealed subterranean and suboceanic detail.

By merely pushing buttons on a console, Ingram could maneuver the big bird into position above any target on earth and aim its powerful cameras and sensors to read anything from the fine print of a newspaper lying on a park bench and the layout of an underground missile complex to what the crew of a submarine lurking under an ice floe was having for dinner.

This evening he was analyzing the images showing the sea around Soseki Island. After picking out the missile systems hidden in the forested land around the retreat, he began to concentrate on finding and positioning underwater sensors placed by Suma’s security force to detect any submarine activity and guard against a clandestine landing.

After close to an hour, his eyes spotted a small object resting on the seafloor thirty-six kilometers to the northeast and three hundred and twenty meters deep. He sent a message to the computer mainframe to enlarge the area around the object. The computer in turn gave the coordinates and instructed the satellite’s sensors to zero in.

After the signal was received and locked in the satellite sent an enlarged image to a receiver on a Pacific island that was relayed to Ingram’s computer at Fort Meade, where it was then enhanced and thrown on the screen.

Ingram rose and walked closer to the screen, peering through his reading glasses. Then he returned to his chair and pressed a number on a telephone and called his Deputy Director of Operations, who was in his car stuck in the horrendous homeward traffic crush of Washington.

“Meeker,” came a weary voice from a cellular phone.

“This is Ingram, boss.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of peeking at the world’s darkest secrets all night? Why don’t you go home and make love to your wife?”