“I get it now. We’re piggybacking onto their expedition. How many people in total?”
“About forty, I think. Since Geo-Research is bringing a full support staff for their scientists, we’ll pay them for your room, board, and any additional labor you need. The Germans are furious about the arrangement, by the way. Because our expedition is site specific, the Danes told them they had to work near Camp Decade to accommodate us. It shouldn’t really matter to them. In terms of global warming research, one patch of Greenland is pretty much like all the others. But they wanted to work about a hundred miles north of our destination.”
“And the other team you mentioned?”
“They couldn’t care less just as long as they get their work done.” Charles knocked back the last of his drink and set the Waterford tumbler on the desk. “We pulled a few strings to get the Danes to force Geo-Research to agree to our location.”
Mercer cocked an eyebrow, inviting an explanation.
“One of the Society’s armchair explorers like myself happens to be the U.S. ambassador to Denmark. Some members buy their way in with money and others with position.” Bryce then added with a smile, “Because of his geology background, Herbert Hoover belonged to the Surveyor’s Society long before he went into politics. You can imagine the bloody murder we got away with when he became president. For the club, Prohibition ended at his inauguration, not when Roosevelt repealed it in ’33. Not that we took much notice anyway.”
Mercer smiled with Bryce. “Any lingering problems with Geo-Research?”
“There shouldn’t be any difficulties by the time you arrive. Geo-Research has had a couple of months to calm down about the change. Even if there are problems, our part of the expedition shouldn’t last for more than a couple of weeks. After you leave, the Japanese who were kicked out last year are going to replace you.”
“What do you know about Geo-Research? I’ve had a run-in with an environmental group before that I’d just as soon forget.”
“They’re not tree huggers, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Geo-Research is dedicated to hard science, not flavor-of-the-month crusades. They’ve been around for about six years, contracting their ship and services to various governments and universities.” Charles looked at Mercer levelly. “Do you have any other questions? You haven’t said even if you want to go.”
Fighting to keep the grin off his face, Mercer set his empty glass next to Bryce’s. His murky gray eyes were bright. “The only question I have is, when do I leave?”
“Congratulations and welcome to the Surveyor’s Society.” Charles pumped Mercer’s hand vigorously. “I knew you’d do it. In fact, we’ve already submitted your name to Geo-Research and your participation was posted on our Web page a few weeks ago.”
“Am I that easy?”
“You have a choice as to when you leave. You can join Geo-Research’s ship, Njoerd, in Reykjavik in three days and sail with her to Ammassalik, Greenland, where she’ll be offloaded for the trek to the camp. Or you can leave about a week later when the base camp has been established.”
“When is the rest of our team leaving?” Mercer noted he was already using the possessive in reference to the expedition. He was truly excited about this. It was a tremendous opportunity on so many levels. The geologist in him wanted to explore one of the largest ice sheets on the planet and the romantic in him loved the idea of joining the Society.
“They’re opting for the sea voyage.”
“I’ll bring my shuffleboard stick.” Because he worked on a contractual basis, Mercer could easily shift his schedule to accommodate the trip.
It was nearing four in the afternoon by the time Mercer left the Society’s headquarters. Lunch had ranked as one of the finest meals he’d ever eaten and the company around the table had been fantastic. They’d dined with the billionaire Herriman and several others who regaled Mercer with slightly embellished stories about expeditions they’d financed or been part of.
With a three-day window before the flight to Reykjavik, Mercer decided to spend the night in the city and visit the Natural History Museum the following day. Mercer explained his plans to Charles, and ten minutes later, Dobson, the steward who’d met Mercer at the door, had arranged for a Town Car to take him to the Carsyle, where a room was waiting. Dobson had also booked him on the following evening’s shuttle to Washington.
Charles Bryce waved to Mercer from the stoop and went back inside. In the borrowed office of the assistant administrative director, he threw himself behind the desk and reached for the phone. He had the number memorized.
“Paul, it’s Charlie Bryce,” he said after getting past a legion of secretaries.
“How did it go?” asked the cultured voice from the other end of the line.
“Mercer’s on board,” Charles said with a trace of bitterness. “He’ll meet the ship in Iceland and sail with them to Greenland.”
“Good job. I told you recruiting him wouldn’t be difficult.”
“I don’t like this. Mercer should know what he’s getting into.”
“Charles, you don’t even know what Dr. Mercer is getting into.”
“You know what I mean,” Bryce snapped. “I don’t have a lot of friends, and I hate using the few I have without at least warning them first.”
“This operation is compartmentalized on a need-to-know basis, and at this point Mercer has no need. Besides, he’s just a backup. Chances are, he won’t even know what’s happening in Greenland. He’ll enjoy his stay there, open that base for Bishop, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“What happens if something does go wrong?”
“You might know the public side of Mercer, Charles, but there are things he hasn’t told you. Like how he took time off during his doctoral studies to help the Defense Department by going into Iraq with a commando team prior to the Gulf War to see if Saddam Hussein had been mining uranium ore. Or how he had a hand in averting the terrorist attack against the Alaska Pipeline last year. If for some reason something happens that puts our mission in jeopardy, Philip Mercer is more than capable of looking after himself and our interests at the same time.”
“I didn’t know about that other stuff and it sounds impressive,” Bryce persisted. “But he doesn’t know the full story. He’s going in blind.”
“If the time comes, he will be informed. But that is my decision to make. Your part in this is over.” The line clicked dead.
“I’m sorry, Mercer,” Bryce whispered to the empty office. “I wish I hadn’t gotten you involved.”
THE VATICAN ROME, ITALY
It seemed to outsiders that the white smoke signifying the election of the first pope of the new millennium was barely out of the chimney of the Apostolic Palace when Leo XIV, the 263rd man to take the seat of St. Peter, began changing the Holy See. Those who worked within the Vatican knew this wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough. And many were stunned by what the former Cardinal Giuseppi Salvi was planning to do.
Salvi had been was seen as a temporary compromise between factions within the Curia. Politicking during the electoral conclave had been rampant, and the election dragged on for ballot after ballot with no end in sight. After five days, it became apparent that neither of the two principal contenders would ever receive the two-thirds needed, so each side began to play a waiting game, hoping that the final ballot on the twelfth day, when a simple majority would take the election, would see their man victorious.