“And the data could not be recovered?” the President asked.
“No,” Argentine said. “It was electronically shredded at the highest security level.”
“Could it have been a routine data purge?”
“Mr. President, data with an Alpha level classification can't be purged without an executive order from you or the National Security Adviser.”
“Then how could it have been erased?”
“We don't know,” Dolen answered.
“So,” the President said, “along with everything else you've told me, we can also assume that someone has the ability to access the highest levels of secured files at the Department of Defense and do whatever they want to them?”
“It appears that way, yes,” Colonel Argentine said.
The President shook his head and made a note on his pad to have the FBI start a full-scale investigation into who stole the file. Then he said, “Gentlemen, I've got a nationwide rail strike set to start at midnight, forest fires all over Southern California, and a budget crisis on Capitol Hill that's come close to fist fights on the Senate floor. I've got to tell you, this is not a good time to ask me to invade Cuba.”
“Not an invasion, sir,” Argentine said, “just a recon mission. A couple of Army Rangers and an Army Corps of Engineers mining expert.”
“Are you absolutely certain that you can reconstruct this korium device?” The President’s voice was stern and dry.
“As certain as we can be, sir,” Dolen said. “Based on our computer simulations, that is. What makes Thorpe's Candle so deadly is that its destructive power equals or dwarfs anything we currently have in our arsenal. Combine that with the fact that once you get around the technology, it's inexpensive to build. What was conceived as a cheap, renewable source of energy turned out to be a new way to produce widespread death and destruction.”
There was a long pause before the President finally said, “If you had a supply of the ore, how long until you can deliver a working model?”
Argentine said, “It's hard to say at this point with so little data remaining from Project Candle Power. The important thing is to get our hands on a sample and start the real tests as soon as possible. In addition, it's imperative that we find and secure whatever sources of the ore exist in the world. We know someone has stolen the information. The possibility of this technology falling into the wrong hands is, well, too frightening to ignore.”
The President stared at Argentine for a few seconds, then looked down at his notes. “Out of curiosity, why was it called Thorpe's Candle?”
“Apparently,” Dolen said, “it was named after one of the original members of Project Candle Power, a brilliant young scientist by the name of Dr. William Thorpe.”
“And where is this Dr. Thorpe now?”
Argentine answered, “He was a member of the chemistry department at the University of North Carolina for almost fifteen years. Then three years ago, his wife had a terrible bout with cancer. When she died, he became despondent and developed a heavy drinking problem. He went into debt, lost everything, and screwed up his career. The university finally let him go. The last anyone heard, he was somewhere in Mexico doing research for a pharmaceutical company.”
The President thought for a moment then said, “How do you plan on getting your team into Cuba?”
“Navy sub,” Argentine said. “We'll drop them off the southern coast of the island at night.”
“Colonel, I'm authorizing you to use whatever resources you need to locate Dr. Thorpe. Get him on an Air Force jet back to your Deep Scan headquarters as soon as possible. No sense in re-inventing the wheel. I want him involved in the reconstruction of the korium device. In the meantime, proceed with your mission to Cuba. I'll expect a progress report every twelve hours. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
The President stood. “For everyone’s sake, gentlemen, I hope you’re all dead wrong and this proves to be nothing but a waste of time.” Without another word, he walked out of the Oval Office.
Dolen turned his silver Lexus out of the White House gates and onto Pennsylvania Avenue. “That was quite a gamble, Michael,” he said.
“Maybe not,” Colonel Argentine said. “More like a calculated risk.” He watched the visitors ambling along the sidewalks admiring the splendor of the most powerful government in the world.
“Still,” Reynolds added from the back seat, “it could have blown up in our faces. He could have rejected the whole thing and tossed us out on our impeccable behinds.”
“I don't think so,” Argentine said. “Here's his chance to go down in history as the man who saved the world from the most destructive force imaginable. How could he turn down a shot like that?”
“Let's hope you're right,” Dolen said. He steered the Lexus toward Arlington, away from the crowds and monuments. “I don't want to be around when he finds out you sent your recon team into Cuba two days ago.”
THE AZTEC PRINCESS
Candice Stevens lay on the cool sheets, her mind drifting at the edge of sleep. She could feel the warmth of Matt Skyler beside her. From his breathing, she knew he was awake, probably staring at the dark ceiling of the stateroom. The scent of their lovemaking still lingered in the air. She felt a tingle of arousal as she considered turning over and making love again. How many times that night had she moaned with pleasure when he slid inside her and they moved as one in the darkness. She could not get enough of him. But he had so much on his mind. Candice smiled, knowing there would be many other nights.
That evening, she and Skyler had boarded the Aztec Princess for the last leg of their vacation. After he spent two days helping Paco Cruz find the San Paulo, she couldn’t wait to get him back in her arms. At dinner, they had had one of their many discussions on why neither was ready to make a long-term commitment to their relationship.
They had met in Egypt three years ago. Candice had just finished photographing the layout for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. She was invited to a lavish reception in honor of the President of Egypt at the Hotel Luxor near the banks of the Nile. As she stood talking to a group of international magazine editors, her gaze was drawn to a man standing alone in the middle of the crowd. He was tall and almost handsome — he would later describe himself as having a lot of rough edges. His skin was the color of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors, and he needed a shave. Despite it being a semi-formal affair, he dressed in a suede sports jacket, jeans, boat shoes, no socks, and an open-collared, checkered shirt. She felt an instant attraction as she observed him. While the conversation rambled on with her friends, she watched him watching everyone else. His eyes moved from person to person with what appeared to be a sincere interest in each. When he noticed her stare, he returned it with a smile that made her feel she had known him forever.
“Who's the fashion statement?” she asked her friends.
“Matt Skyler, Director of OceanQuest,” said the National Geographic science editor. “That's the guy that raised the Soviet sub off Bermuda. Helped to close a chapter from the last days of the Cold War. Received an accommodation from the Presidents of the United States and Russia. Among other things, he's one of the world's leading authorities on undersea military salvage. Been an adviser to National Geographic for years.”
“What's he doing here?” Candice asked.
“I understand OceanQuest located an ancient Roman warship on the bottom of the Nile a few miles from here,” the science editor said. “Skyler supervised the operation.”