“This is Harrington,” he said into an encrypted satellite phone. “We’ve got them. All safe and sound.”
There was a pause, and then Harrington said to General Christie: “Sorry, can you repeat that? Okay. Okay. Right. Copy that, moving now.”
The call was ended and Harrington said to the driver: “NASA’s Ames Research Center, eastern gate.”
•
Eve tried another landline, then another cell number, and they all ended in the same result: nothing—not even voicemail.
Eve paced her room. She saw on the news that the Russian President had ordered a proportional military response to a US cyber attack on their nation’s communications network, and that it would be swift justice against the perpetrators. Columns of Russian armored vehicles were crossing the border into Eastern Ukraine, and NATO announced that it was mobilizing its rapid reaction force so that all options were on the table. The news feed cut to the White House for commentary.
Eve stared at her phone.
When she thought of McCorkell and Somerville, she also thought of the first person who she had met out of that UN team: Andrew Hutchinson, an FBI Special Agent on secondment to the unit. She had his cell-phone number in her phone, and she rang it.
Nothing. Not even voicemail. The phone just rang and rang.
Then she saw the Vice President of the United States on the television, and did a double-take. She dialed the operator for a call-connect.
“The White House, please. Yes, the White House. I don’t know—is there a press number? Or how about general inquiries? Okay, that’s fine, put me through. Thank you.” Eve waited as the call connected, and when it was answered she said, “This is Eve Walker, and I need you to listen to me: I have an urgent message for the Vice President, from Jed Walker . . .”
•
Walker was in the back of a transport van, his back against a side wall, a black hood over his head and his wrists bound behind his back with plastic cable ties. Paul was seated to his left, and Monica to his right, each identically subdued. He knew from the sounds and motions inside the van that two of the paramilitary guys had climbed in and sat opposite, watching them. The leader, Harrington, whose name he caught one of the guys saying as they were loaded into the van, was talking—Texas accent—on the phone in the passenger seat. And the fourth guy was at the wheel, driving through Palo Alto.
To NASA’s Ames Research Center.
Did these guys know that Jasper was there? Judging from the way Harrington took the information during the call, Walker figured he was in the dark about the location; Harrington had seemed surprised that they weren’t heading to a DoD site. Unless of course his surprise had actually been connected to what he had been instructed to do with his prisoners once they arrived at Ames . . .