Deep Fathom

Deep Fathom Page 37

Nafe sat up straighter. Neither man had an appointment. “Show them in.”

The boy backed out, allowing the two men inside.

Nicolas Ruzickov entered first and waved Jeb Fielding, the head of the Office of Emergency Services, toward the upholstered leather chairs to one side of the room. The older man, of bookish appearance, with rolled shoulders and an emaciated demeanor, bore an armful of papers tucked under his arm.

“Mr. President,” Ruzickov said, “I thought you should see this.” The CIA director gestured toward the sofas and chairs around an antique coffee table, where Fielding already sat. “If you’ll join us.”

With a groan, the heavyset Nafe stood and walked around his desk. “It’s late, Nicolas. Can’t this wait? I have my nationwide address first thing in the morning and I don’t want to look too tired. The American people will need a strong face in the morning as the news of Air Force One sinks in.”

Ruzickov bowed his head slightly, remaining officious. “I understand, Mr. President, and I implore your forgiveness. But this matter may have a bearing on tomorrow’s address.”

Nafe settled onto the sofa in the informal seating arrangement. Ruzickov and Fielding were in the chairs, the OES chief with his pile of papers…maps, Nafe realized.

“What is all this?” Nafe asked, leaning forward, as Fielding unfolded a map on the coffee table.

Ruzickov answered, “Late news.”

“Hmm?”

“As you know, the OES has been investigating the series of quakes from eight days ago. Given the devastation on the West Coast, detailed information was slow to dribble out.”

Nafe nodded impatiently. He had publicly addressed the whole “national disaster” bit last week. It was no longer his concern. He knew that in another few days he was due to tour the region, to shake hands at various homeless shelters and attend memorial services. He was even scheduled to cast a wreath off the coast of Alaska to mourn the thousands of deaths associated with the sinking of the Aleutian Islands. He was ready for the trip. He had his suits picked out and had posed before a mirror with his Armani jacket over his shoulder, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It was a solid down-to-earth look, a President ready to help out his people.

Ruzickov drew Nafe’s attention to the map now open on the table. “With data flowing again from scientific stations on the West Coast, Jeb’s office has been compiling the information and seismic readings, trying to explain the natural catastrophe.”

Nafe looked up. “Do we know what triggered it?”

“No, not exactly, but maybe Jeb had better explain from here.” Ruzickov nodded for Fielding to speak.

The older man was clearly nervous. He wiped a handkerchief over his forehead and cleared his throat. “Thank you for your time, Mr. President.”

“Yes, yes…what have you learned?”

Fielding smoothed the map on the table. It depicted the Pacific Ocean, a topographic map of the sea floor, continental shelf, and coastlines. Drawn over it were a series of concentric circles. The outer circle, the largest, brushed across the western coast of the United States and arced around to the islands of Japan. The inner circles grew progressively smaller. Little red crosses dotted the coastlines and islands caught within these narrowing rings, marking disaster sites. Fielding ran his fingers along the concentric circles. “Our office has been able to map out the vectors of tectonic force during the series of quakes.”

Nafe wrinkled his brow. He hated to admit ignorance, but Ruzickov picked up on his confusion and said to Fielding, “Start at the beginning.”

Fielding bobbed his head. “Of course…I’m sorry…” He licked his lips. “We’ve known from the start that the eclipse-day quakes all occurred along the edge of the Pacific tectonic plate.” He marked out the rough margins of the outermost ring on his map.

Nafe’s brow remained wrinkled.

“Maybe I’d better elaborate further,” Ruzickov said, putting Fielding on hold. “As I’m sure you know, Mr. President, the Earth’s surface is actually a hard shell over a molten core, a fractured shell, actually, like a hardboiled egg struck on a table. Each shell piece or ‘tectonic plate’ floats atop this liquid core and is constantly in motion, one grinding against another, sometimes sinking under to form trenches, or conversely, riding up to form mountains. It is at these friction points between plates that seismic activity is highest.”

“I know all this,” Nafe said irritably, feigning insult.

Ruzickov pointed to the map. “There’s one big plate under the Pacific Ocean. The quakes and volcanic activity eight days ago all occurred along the margins or fault lines of that plate.” The CIA director pointed at some of the islands in the center of the map. “Additional catastrophes to coastlines and islands were the result of tidal wave activity generated by quakes under the sea.”

Nafe sat up, too tired to feign interest any longer. “Fine. I understand. So why this late night science lesson?”

“Jeb, why don’t you finish from here?”

Fielding nodded. “For the past week, we’ve been trying to find out what triggered so many points along the Pacific plate’s edge to go active at the same time, what triggered this catalytic reaction.”

“And?” Nafe said.

Fielding pointed to each concentric ring drawn on the map, starting at the outermost and ticking down each smaller ring. “By triangulating data from hundreds of geologic stations, we’ve been able to trace the direction of intensity, zeroing in on the true epicenter of this entire series of quakes.”

“You mean all these quakes may have originated from a single bigger event somewhere else?”

“Exactly. It’s called plate harmonics. A strong enough force striking a tectonic plate could send shockwaves radiating out, causing the plate’s rim to blow out with activity.”

“Like a pebble dropped into a still pond,” Ruzickov added. “Generating waves on the shorelines.”

Nafe’s brows rose. “Do we know what this ‘pebble’ might be?”

“No,” Fielding said, “but we do know where the pebble struck.” The head of OES continued to draw his fingertip down the map until he reached the centermost circle, a tiny red ring. He tapped his finger. “It was right here.”

Leaning closer, Nafe studied the map. It was only empty ocean. “What’s the significance?”

Ruzickov answered, “That circle is where Air Force One crashed.”

Nafe gasped. “Are you saying the crash of Air Force One caused this? That Bishop’s jet was this pebble we’ve been talking about?”

“No, certainly not,” Fielding said. “The quakes started hours before Air Force One crashed. In fact, it was the quakes in Guam that required the President’s evacuation. But either way, a plane crash would not yield a fraction of the force necessary to trigger a harmonic wave across the Pacific plate. Instead we’re talking about a force equal to a trillion megaton explosion.”

Nafe settled back onto the sofa. “Are you saying, then, that such an event occurred down there?” He nodded toward the tiny red circle.

Fielding slowly nodded back.

Ruzickov spoke into the silence. “Jeb, that’s all we’ll need for now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Fielding reached for the map.

“Leave it,” Ruzickov said.

The man reluctantly pulled back his hand. He gathered up his other papers and stood. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

Nafe lifted a hand, dismissing him.

As Fielding moved off, Ruzickov said, “And, Jeb, your confidence in this matter would be appreciated. This stays between us for now.”

“Of course, sir,” Fielding replied, then left the room.

When he was gone, Nafe spoke. “So what do you think, Nick?”

Ruzickov pointed to the map. “I think this discovery may be the most important find of this century. Something happened out there. Something that might be related to the crash of Air Force One.” The CIA director stared Nafe full in the face. “That’s why I wanted you to hear about this tonight, before the official announcement tomorrow, before we commit ourselves fully to our current plan of blaming the Chinese.”

Nafe shook his head. “I’m not changing our position. Not at this late stage of the game.” He scowled at the concentric rings. “All this is just…just science. Not politics.”

“I agree,” Ruzickov said with a firm nod. “You’re in charge. It is ultimately your decision. I wanted you to be fully informed.”

Nafe felt a surge of self-pride at the CIA director’s support. “Good. But Nick, what about all this other information? Can we keep it buried?”

“Jeb’s my man. He won’t talk unless I tell him to.”

“Good, then tomorrow’s announcement will go along as planned.” Nafe leaned into the sofa, relieved that nothing would upset his schedule. “Now what did you mean about this being the discovery of the century?”

Ruzickov remained silent for a few moments, studying the map. “I’ve been keeping abreast on all reports from the crash site. Did you know that all the wreckage’s parts are magnetized?”

“No, but what does that matter?”

“The chief investigator, the deceased Edwin Weintraub, theorized that the parts were exposed to a strong magnetic force shortly after settling to the ocean’s bottom. I also read reports that the salvage operation’s submersible experienced some strange effects while down there…something associated with the discovery of a new crystalline formation.”

“I still don’t understand the significance.”

Ruzickov looked up. “Whatever is down there was strong enough to shake the entire Pacific plate. As Jeb said, a force equal to a trillion megatons. What if we could harness that power? Discover its secret? A supreme new energy source. Could you imagine that firepower at our fingertips? It could free us of the Arab’s stranglehold on our oil supply…power weapons and ships to dwarf any other military. There would be no end to the possibilities.”