She went up to the closed conference room door and pressed the manual plate. The door slid open, and the room fell silent. The attentive eyes of the delegation turned to her. "Mr. Gray apologizes. It's been a busy day, as you can all imagine. He's been delayed by pressing business for just a minute or two."
Before she could turn to leave, the tall American spy said, "You haven't been on the island all that long, have you, Dr. Aldridge?"
She was shocked that he knew who she was. "No. Not long."
They seemed to hang on her every word, which raised her already acute level of discomfort.
"Come," the Frenchwoman said. "Here." Her hand rested on the empty seat next to the head of the table. Laura wanted to extract herself but couldn't think of any polite way to do it. She headed for the chair, and the men at the table rose to their feet.
After Laura took her seat, there was small talk, all of it centering around her. They were so gracious that she grew comfortable enough to finally ask, during a lull, "What is it you all want?" A momentary pause was followed by an eruption of laughter from all around the table.
"Forgive us, Dr. Aldridge," the Englishman said with genuine amusement in his eyes. "We seldom encounter much forthrightness in our line of work, although we were led to expect such during our visit here — from Mr. Gray, that is."
"I can answer your question," the tall American said, much to the apparent chagrin of the others. "We're here to make sure that your Mr. Gray doesn't destroy our planet." He was leaning forward — the pleasant smile he'd worn earlier barely visible. "In the past seventy-two hours, Mr. Gray has joined the nuclear club. The other members of that club have come to pay our respects."
The British diplomat who sat across from Laura cleared his throat. "What my colleague is trying to say is that issues have arisen which go beyond the purely internal affairs of this island. Far beyond. We have attempted in the last few days to—"
The door opened, and in walked Gray. As the diplomats got to their feet, he strode boldly to the head of the table. "I'd like to open with a few remarks," Gray said as he sank into his chair even before the last of his visitors had risen. "First, armed incursions onto this island are extremely dangerous both to my employees and to the military personnel involved and should therefore be halted immediately. Secondly, I understand from the not-so-subtle presence of warships off my island that you intend to threaten me with hostile action unless I agree to whatever demands you have brought. I view those threats as provocative and can assure you that they will in no way influence the conduct of my operations. Finally, I want to reiterate to you, to our governments, and to the people of your countries that nothing I have ever done or ever intend to do in any way threatens you or them."
Gray stood. "I hope I've made myself clear. I don't want any misunderstandings, because the results could be catastrophic. Now, with that out of the way, I wish you all a pleasant return trip and thank you for your visit." He headed for the door.
"Mr. Gray!" the Englishman blurted out — appalled. "We have a full agenda for today. We telecopied it to your offices. Surely you don't suggest that the meeting is concluded?"
"What more do you want me to say?" Gray asked with a smile.
"We…" The diplomat was flustered. "Very well!" He picked his leather briefcase off the floor and dialed the combination into the lock. The room grew busy as others followed suit. Within seconds, the table was filled with papers, expensive fountain pens, and leather notepads.
The English diplomat cleared his throat. "First off, I have a joint statement from the Security Council of the United Nations."
He picked up the thick sheaf of papers.
"Skip it," Gray said from the door. "Next?"
The diplomat turned to the others and then reluctantly put the prepared statement aside. "As you wish. Let's just get down to 'brass tacks,' as you Americans like to say. Or perhaps, 'the bottom line' would be more appropriate. You have substantial financial resources in banks located all around the world. We are prepared to freeze your accounts unless you agree to a program of inspections of your facilities by representatives of international agencies."
"Freeze away," Gray said. "Next."
The man's jaw was slack but then went firm. "Have it your way, Mr. Gray. You also have operations — most notably direct broadcasts by satellites into each of our countries. The members of the Security Council and, I would venture, almost every other UN member nation stand ready to ban all such broadcasts into their countries effective immediately if you should refuse to comply with our quite reasonable demands!" There was fire in his eyes as he pulled out the big guns.
Gray shrugged. "Ban them, then."
There was general commotion around the table.
"You don't understand sir!" a previously silent man with a thick German accent said. "We will shut down your television operations!"
"No, you will ban them. The last time I checked with my technical people, 'banning' does not impede the passage of electromagnetic signals through space."
"We can shoot your satellites down," the tall American said calmly.
"Not as fast as I can put them up. But let's assume you do find a way to shut me down. What will you have done? We've sold three hundred and fifty million units worldwide. The average cost per system was three thousand dollars. Add it up. That's over one trillion U.S. dollars in sales that I have already pocketed and that your citizenry has already parted with. How happy are the consumers in your countries going to be when the entire value of their investment goes poof! And it's not just the loss of goods which have a ninety-six percent product-approval rating. It's the loss of the entertainment they dispense. Those consumers have grown used to five hundred channels of high-definition television and nine-channel surround sound. I hope you're prepared for the storm when the weekend rolls around and they're all screwing with their radios to find the ball games."
"You forget, Mr. Gray, that there is another way," the woman with the thick French accent said. "One that does not involve depriving the people of their video opiate."
Gray and the woman stared at each other, and the room fell silent.
"Seizure of my operations?" Gray asked, a smile curling his lips. "Do you really think I would have left that to chance?" He turned, slapped the plate by the door, and was gone.
"Joseph!" Laura called out, breaking into a run down the hallway from the conference room. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. Hard knots bulged from his jaw as his teeth ground together.
"You're pushing them too hard," she said. "Give a little. Let them save face."
"No."
"Why not?" Laura said. "By this time tomorrow, the asteroid scare will be over and things can return to normal, whatever that is."
He looked off toward the control room and heaved a loud sigh. "Joseph, they've got the guns."
After a momentary pause, the stern look broke. All of a sudden he nodded and smiled. "And all they've got is guns."
Laura had no idea what he meant. "Don't you think that's enough?"
"Guns mean nothing in the long run. I could have all the guns in the world and the advantage would be fleeting. It's in the minds of the soldiers who use them that the battle truly takes place. If your ideas are bankrupt, those guns will never be used and your cause will eventually fail."
"And are armies following you into battle part of phase two, Joseph?"
Laura didn't realize how important his answer was to her until she heard the question come out of her mouth.
"Yes… but you don't understand what that answer means."
He turned and left as the first of the departing diplomats appeared in the hallway behind her.
Laura headed down the hall to her office. She sank into her chair, leaned back and closed her eyes — exhausted by all the questions.