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WASHINGTON, D.C:
After a long flight from Seattle, Alex enters the Director of National Security’s office in the Whitehouse. When he sees Martin talking on the phone, he sits in a chair in front of the desk and waits.
“Yes, Mr. President,” Martin says into the phone. “I understand, sir. Yes, sir. Mr. Cave just walked in. I’ll call you back.”
Martin hangs up and looks across the desk at Alex. “More oil was stolen from one of the refineries on the East Coast, and OPEC refuses to send any of their oil. The President is ordering a permanent national rationing program. Not just gasoline, but all petroleum products. We’ll have to rely on our national reserves until we stop this hijacking.”
When Alex slowly stands and walks to the window, Martin rotates his chair and stares at his back. “What is it, Alex?”
Alex continues to stare out the window. “I’m not sure, really. I have a feeling we may not be able to stop what’s happening. What would you think if I told you the crude oil is not being stolen, but changed into something else?”
Martin chuckles. “You’re kidding, of course.” Alex turns to face him, but the look on his face says he isn’t. “Good, grief!” he mumbles softly.
“We watched it happen to another tanker, and to the Defiance. That’s why we abandoned ship.” Alex tells him about the two men fighting on Defiance’s deck. “They just dissolved into nothing. It looked like the light coming out of the cargo hold incinerated them. Later, when we were in the rafts, we saw billions of crystals, like the one Christa found, flow out of the holds and rise into the air. The strangest part is then they vanished. We managed to get back on the Defiance, and a short time later, the submarine arrived. They informed us the other tanker had capsized in the storm. We searched for the crew, but couldn’t find a single person.”
Donner sees the sorrow in Alex’s eyes. He knows about the warning from the All Alaska manager, but there was nothing he could do to stop the tankers. “The West Coast is in chaos.”
“Yeah, I heard. We still don’t know who’s behind this.”
“The Navy is putting its own people on one of the last tankers at Cook Inlet. Vetted crew only, and a Seal team. They’ll try to get it to a refinery in Washington.”
Alex stands. “No sense me hanging around here, Martin. I’ll be in Montana. Let me know if you learn anything.”
The phone rings and Martin answers. He listens to the caller as Alex moves toward the door. “Hold on a minute, Alex!”
Alex turns, listening to Martin’s side of the conversation. Martin hangs up and stares at him.
“Better stick around for a few minutes. The FBI is sending a man over with some important information about the oil.”
Alex hears a knock on the door, and a burly man enters the office.
“I’m Bill Pickowski,” the man says as he steps in and closes the door.
Martin indicates the chair in front of the desk and Pickowski sits down. “What have you discovered?”
“I know who is stealing the oil.” Pickowski explains everything he knows and about the events that took place in the Idaho meadow. “Menno Simons hypnotized hundreds of people at a time. I was even under his spell for a while. It was the most amazing thing I ever saw. It was like a scene out of a movie. Menno somehow produced a bright crescent moon, high in the sky.”
Alex snaps his head toward Pickowski as he remembers the moon he saw after the tanker incident.
“You say you have one of the ampoules?” Martin asks.
Pickowski reaches into his coat pocket and hands the two-inch long ampoule to Martin. “The people handed out thousands of those things.”
Martin studies the colored granules inside, then hands it to Alex. Alex holds it up to the light from the window and stares at it for a moment. The sparkling powder appears to be moving. He spins toward Martin. “I’d like to take this to the college immediately. We’ll see if there’s a connection between this and the information Christa learned from the crystal she found on the tanker.”
“All right. Keep me informed.”
Alex leaves the room, and as he enters the parking area below the White House, his assigned driver informs him they will have to use the alternate exit because crowds of protestors are blocking the streets around the Capitol. They drive down a long tunnel for several minutes and exit four miles away. As they approach Washington International Airport, the traffic slows, and when they are within half a mile of the terminal, the vehicles are at a standstill.
The driver looks out the side window at the rearview mirror and shakes his head no. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cave, but we’re blocked in.”
“Okay. I’ll walk the rest of the way to the air terminal.”
The driver opens the trunk and hands Alex his bag, and Alex walks beside the bumper-to-bumper traffic as he tries to figure out why it’s so congested. When he reaches the terminal, he finds hundreds of people lined up outside the doors, and airport security police standing at each entrance to keep them out of the terminal.
Alex approaches one of the officers. “What’s going on?”
“Ain’t you been listening to the news, Mr.? The rationing started this morning and the airlines are cutting a lot of their flights. You’ll have to wait in line like everyone else.”
“It’s very important that I catch the next flight to Montana.”
The officer laughs. “You and everyone else out here.”
“Look, you don’t understand.”
“You’ll wait like everyone else!”
Alex retrieves the government ID from his coat pocket and shows it to the officer. “I want to talk to your supervisor,” he tells him and points to the portable radio clipped to the officer’s belt. “Call him!”
The officer starts to protest until he sees the fierce look in Alex’s eyes and grudgingly speaks into the radio. When the supervisor arrives, Alex shows him his ID and hands him a piece of paper. “Call that number and ask about me. I’ll wait.”
The supervisor stares at Alex for a moment before stepping away, then dials the number. When he returns, he looks at the guard. “Let him through, George. Follow me, Mr. Cave.”
Once inside the air terminal, the crowd thins out dramatically. The supervisor leads Alex to a ticket counter where he purchases a ticket, then leads him through the sprawling building to a boarding gate where a line of passengers waits. The supervisor speaks to the boarding attendant, who lets Alex onto the aircraft, while those in line shout their protests. A moment later, a steady stream of people passes his seat, and Alex hears an angry man yelling at the boarding attendant just before the airplane door closes.