‘This is cool,’ she whispered as she flew the drone.
‘Stay focused,’ Vaughn replied as he watched the traffic flow. ‘LeMay’s coming past us right now.’
Lopez forced herself to focus on the screen and not look outside as she hovered the drone three hundred feet above Manhattan.
‘Passing us…,’ Vaughn said, ‘…now.’
‘Got him.’
Lopez saw the silver Mercedes in the drone’s sights as it passed by, heard the whisper quiet engine and the hum of its tires on the asphalt as it passed them on its way to the Pierre Hotel.
‘You think that you can pick him up once he goes inside?’ Vaughn asked. ‘We won’t be able to see him inside the hotel, and the DIA only bugged his vehicle not his clothes.’
Lopez nodded, replying as she kept her gaze fixed to the screen.
‘He’s meeting Majestic Twelve. I figure nothing else will do for them but the Penthouse Suite.’
Gordon LeMay checked his tie one last time as he walked through the foyer of the Pierre Hotel and into an elevator, the bell hop pressing the button for the top floor without the need to be asked. The hotel had been informed of LeMay’s arrival by the driver and the door staff, and everything prepared for his smooth passage through the hotel.
The elevator hummed quickly up to the top floor and opened onto a thickly carpeted corridor. The bell hop did not follow LeMay out, under strict orders along with all of the other staff to remain clear of the top floor. The elevator door closed behind LeMay and he turned toward the only open door before him at the far end of the corridor.
Somehow, he knew that there would be no turning back after this. Once he had been fully welcomed into the fold of Majestic Twelve there could be no leaving, no changing his mind, which was damned well fine with him. He was done with the stress of the intelligence community and more concerned with ensuring his own survival of any Congressional investigation into his conduct as Director of the FBI than anything else. Membership of Majestic Twelve would ensure that such irritations would be swept away and his future secured.
LeMay walked through the open door and saw a figure close it behind him. Victor Wilms was standing with his hand on the door handle, sealing LeMay into the elaborate room, which was occupied by eleven men that at a glance he knew represented Majestic Twelve.
‘Gentlemen,’ he greeted them.
‘What news from Antarctica?’ asked the tall, gaunt leader of the group.
No greetings. No ceremony. Down to business it was then, LeMay realized, but as a man who often gave the President his daily intelligence briefing he was used to being prepared.
‘The team have accessed the tunnel system beneath the ice and have reached the base concealed within,’ he reported. ‘Communications are patchy at best, but I have it on good authority that the DIA team dispatched before us is now pinned inside with no means of escape. There have been casualties, but there will be no evidence of our presence at the site.’
Another of the men peered at LeMay.
‘The DIA reached the artifact before your men?’
‘Yes,’ LeMay replied, ‘an unfortunate eventuality but not one that could be avoided. They are, as you are no doubt aware, supported by US Navy SEALs and well equipped. But their success in reaching the base first means nothing if they cannot escape.’
The gaunt man shook his head.
‘Support will reach them soon, likely a nuclear submarine or perhaps even a major fleet,’ he cautioned. ‘It is imperative that this is brought to a close before such reinforcements can arrive in the area.’
‘It will be,’ LeMay assured them. ‘My people are under strict instructions to either escape the area with Black Knight in their possession, or if that proves impossible to destroy all trace of the site and the DIA team. We either get what we want, or nobody does.’
The leader of the group nodded and then stood. Despite his obvious advancing years he projected an aura of menace and competence that unnerved LeMay as he glared down at him.
‘Your work has impressed us,’ he said, ‘and your commitment to our cause has not gone unnoticed despite the danger to your own career. You are certain, Gordon, that you have not been tracked to this location?’
LeMay realized that he had not until now been called by his given name, that the act of doing so was likely a major concession in the silent war of wills between them.
‘Nobody knows that I am here with you,’ LeMay assured him. ‘I am visiting family in the city.’
‘Good,’ the tall man said, ‘then it is time for you to come out of the cold. We know that your position as Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation is coming to an end as a result of the work you have done for us. We will ensure that your exit will be without any political or criminal discomfort.’
LeMay beamed. ‘That would be much appreciated.’
‘Furthermore,’ the gaunt man went on, ‘we should like to hold a small ceremony, a tradition if you will, that has been a part of our history and will formally welcome you among our number. You, my friend, will become Number Four.’
LeMay’s eyebrow raised in surprise. ‘I am to replace a member?’
The gaunt man, evidently Number One, chuckled although LeMay could detect no true humor.
‘We have a great deal of power,’ he replied as the rest of the members got to their feet, ‘but we do not yet have control over our longevity. I am not the first leader of this cabal and I shall not be the last. The previous Number Four was a man named Dwight Oppenheimer, who ironically was involved in searching for the elixir, the fountain of youth, several years ago in New Mexico. He died at the hands of a man whom I believe you to be familiar, one Ethan Warner?’
LeMay’s expression darkened. ‘I know of him.’
‘Then your first mission, once our Antarctic business is complete, will be to eradicate Warner and his partner, Lopez. You will be a part of our future, Gordon, and we shall celebrate that formally tomorrow. But for now, congratulations.’
Number One extended a thin, wiry hand laced with purple veins that Gordon LeMay shook vigorously as the other men in the room clapped politely and Victor Wilms handed LeMay a champagne flute.
XXXI
‘Keep it steady.’
‘I’m trying!’
Lopez worked the control unit furiously as she guided the drone alongside the rear of the Pierre Hotel. The calm air at ground level near Central Park had been replaced by the faster free winds three hundred feet above the city that buffeted the drone as Lopez sent it whizzing across the rooftops toward the top of the hotel.
The dizzying height and the drone’s instability in the wind began to take its toll on Lopez’s ability to control the device, and she realized quickly that such unsteady footage was not going to be sufficient to identify the members of Majestic Twelve. Jarvis, and indeed the President, would need clear images of the group combined with the audio obtained from LeMay’s implant in order to ensure that any convictions stuck.
‘I’m going to have to switch on the auto-stability that Hellerman included in the package,’ she said as she struggled to control the drone.
‘Won’t that use up more power?’ Vaughn asked.
‘Yeah, but at this rate we’ll get nothing, it’s too damned windy.’
Lopez’s thumb moved briefly off the control column and flipped a switch on the top of the controller. Almost immediately the drone levelled off and began returning a crystal clear image of the city.
‘Damn, Hellerman,’ she smiled as she worked the controls and brought the drone back onto course toward the hotel’s penthouse suite.