Gabriel's Stand Page 12

  Berker nodded.

  “Here is your copy,” Rex said, sliding a sheet across the table. “The Technology Licensing Commission will be empowered to override all state and federal law…including by necessary implication, the constitution itself.”

  “I’ve been in the US long enough now to appreciate just how brilliant and necessary this step was. It will be a true coup d’état, but delayed until the opposition has been suppressed, intimidated and ultimately…eviscerated. And you will make the perfect High Commissioner for Greater America, Rex.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I heard you had a little trouble last night,” Rex said. “Will you need any help?”

  “We have, ah, disposed of it, but thank you very much.”

  “How will this affect Snowfeather?”

  “We don’t think she was aware. The boy was questioned very thoroughly before…he disappeared.”

  “But she will figure it out eventually, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Rex, but we only need her help for a little more time.”

  “I want her in DC as soon as possible,” Rex said. “Have her taken directly to the airport. She’ll be wanted at the White House. We need to keep her in public and preoccupied.”

  ——

  Snowfeather pulled her parka around her shoulders as she was helped from the top of the patrol car. The remaining crowd parted to let her escorts make room for her to pass through. She had looked in vain in the crowd for a sign of Vincent. He had never missed a rally. As she got in the back seat of a car supplied by Mr. Fowler, she pressed against the window.

  The Rose Garden for a presidential ceremony? My own limo? A first class seat? Vincent, where are you? See, this was all a good thing. Every good cause has a few nuts, but they can’t be allowed to spoil everything… Can they?

  ——

  In Washington, Snowfeather closed the door of her hotel suite behind her. She looked around the well-appointed room. She tossed her worn garment bag on the bed; then she noticed the blinking message light. It was Berker.

  “Snowfeather, you must contact your father and persuade him to let up on his opposition to the Earth Restoration Treaty. It will ruin his career. As his daughter, you need to protect him from himself. Call me immediately!”

  Snowfeather cursed out loud. “That crazy bitch!” Furiously she dialed the number Berker had left her. She launched her tirade the second she recognized the voice on the other end. “Louise? I have your message. Is this why you flew me here? You want public appearances? Fine. You want me to lobby sitting US Senators? Fine. But you do not get to exploit my relationship with my father!” Snowfeather lowered her voice. “Talking to Gabriel Standing Bear about a matter he considers a measure of his integrity will not work and I wouldn’t do it if even it did work. Am I clear?” There was a long pause. “Yes, I am tired. No, I won’t change my mind. Do. Not. Ever. Ask. That. Again.”

  Click.

  It was very late and Snowfeather slept through the night. Early the next morning, she confirmed by phone that Vincent had dropped out of sight. A secretary at Rex Longworthy’s Seattle law firm said Vincent had called about some trip to LA but no one else seemed to have any other information. “Are you calling from DC?” the secretary asked. Snowfeather simply hung up. She would go to Seattle as soon as she was done here.

  Vince, I will find you.

  Chapter 20

  On the fourth day, Snowfeather wearily opened the door to her hotel room, having spent the entire day in public appearances. She resolved to book a flight to Seattle before Berker and the Sisters could book yet another appearance for her.

  ——

  Across the country, Gabriel Standing Bear was disembarking at Sea-Tac International, having arrived for a quick, pre-vote meeting with Dr. John Owen, Senator Thurston Smith and Washington Senator Lance McKernon in Edge Medical’s downtown offices. The historic ratification vote on the Earth Restoration Treaty would proceed in three days.

  Gabriel’s friend and colleague, Senator Lance McKernon, was still sitting alone at his desk in downtown Seattle. It was 6:45 P.M. and getting late for that strategy meeting at Edge Medical. Lance was bone tired. The biggest vote of his career was just two days away and he was on the minority side. And it would be dramatically close as a Super Bowl in overtime.

  Lines had begun to crease his movie-star handsome black face. Gray was rapidly spreading from his temples. Maturity sucks, Lance mused. He began to carefully fill his briefcase with the essential papers. Damn. Those college football injuries still hurt…every last one of them.

  McKernon swallowed four ibuprofen, washing down the analgesic with a sip of scotch from a small flask he kept in his desk drawer.

  He scooped all the papers from his desktop and dropped them into the case. He snapped it shut and rubbed his eyes. His flight back to DC from Sea-Tac was scheduled to depart at midnight, leaving time for the strategy meeting with Gabriel and Senator Smith at Dr. Owen’s office. He knew that the meeting was important but he desperately, desperately wanted to be home with his family.

  “Line two.” The voice came from the speaker on his desk.

  “Who is it, Jean?”

  “It’s Ms. Berker of the Environmental Opinion Research.”

  “Christ. Third call?”

  “Fourth.”

  Another sigh. “Put her on.”

  “Senator, we would like just an hour of your time to discuss the Treaty vote.”

  “I don’t have an hour. I don’t have a minute. But I do have a critical meeting to attend and a plane to catch, Ms. Berker. And you know my position on that vote very well.”

  “We think your misgivings are unnecessary. Certainly you are not refusing to hear us out?”

  “Ms. Berker, I have studied every version of the Earth Restoration Treaty carefully. I have declared my position, after due consideration. This Treaty, if ratified, will end the authority of Congress—”

  “Which Congress has misused—”

  “And hand it over to a non-elected Commission—”

  “Dedicated to saving the earth.”

  “Dedicated to ruining the economy. This is insanity, Ms. Berker. Give me one reason I should spend four more minutes listening to you.”

  “Your son.”

  “WHAT?”

  There was a long silence, and a small, familiar voice came on the line.

  “Dad? Dad? Are you there? Please come get me! I’m still okay…” Johnny! Good God.

  “Thank you, dear.” It was Berker’s voice, again. “Take him into the other room—now!” A cold, dead silence followed. Finally, Berker’s calm voice: “Senator, your son will be safe with us for one hour…until we have our little meeting with you. At the Waterfront Hotel, room 205. We just want a little of your time.”

  “This is kidnapping.”

  “This is invitation, Senator. We’ll see you very soon.” Click.

  Lance McKernon stared at nothing. Then he looked at his watch. 6:05 P.M. His hands were shaking as he speed-dialed his wife. “Where is Johnny?”

  “He isn’t home from school. Isn’t he with you?”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  Ice. It spread from his heart to his chest, then his arms. Senator Lance McKernon stood slowly.

  “Wait a few minutes. I’ll call right back.” He let the phone fall to the desk. “Jean,” he shouted. “I need a cab. Now.”

  ——

  While McKernon was rushing to the Waterfront Hotel and Gabriel was rushing from Sea-Tac to the meeting at the offices of Edge Medical, John Owen was about to be distracted by another element of the ongoing personnel crisis involving the death of his chief scientist, Dr. Christoph Fischer.

  In Bellevue, Washington at 7:04 P.M., Dr. Elisabeth Owen-Larson repositioned her phone, her father, Dr. John Owen, having finally answered a call.

  “Sorry. Been a real bust, Elisabeth. What’s up?” he said.

  Elisabeth looked at her toes, wiggling near the fire. Her legs were almost
invisible below the formidable bulge housing her unborn baby. A half-eaten pizza languished on the coffee table next to an open novel. “Dad, I do not think Christoph was mugged.”

  “I really don’t have time, sweetie… Not mugged?”

  “Christoph Fischer, your chief scientist, the man whose cure almost saved Mom, was definitely not mugged. He was obviously murdered, Dad. You haven’t has a chance to look at the coroner’s final report I put on your desk this morning.”

  “That has very scary implications. But I’m pressed. We are in an emergency situation here. Sorry, gotta get off I have to go for now. Love you.” Silence.

  “Damn.” Elisabeth was sitting in front of a tall stone fireplace in her own home in Bellevue, Washington, not far from her father’s home. Her husband Josh was working at the Vector plant. Cradling the phone against her neck, she realized that John had disconnected her. She knew her dad was involved in politics tonight and was hurrying to his Edge Medical offices in downtown Seattle.

  She redialed and got her father’s message. After the beep, she left a message. “This is important, Dad. Follow this thought. This Treaty vote, all the attention directed at you in the press. Dad, something in all this just feels very wrong. Call it a premonition, but if you get this, please, please increase your security. Tonight, I was looking for my prescription list and I stumbled on an unopened envelope with Coroner’s report of Christoph’s death. Did you know that he still had cash on his body; and he was taken a good distance away from the office before he was killed? The sedative found in his blood was an uncommon one. The coroner missed that. It is not typically prescribed. Dad, spies use that stuff. It is much too sophisticated for a common street thug. If this was an assassination, think about what that might mean. Who would want to kill Christoph, a harmless scientist working to save lives? …And why?” The fire crackled while rain spattered gently on the skylight. “Second question while you’re pondering that one. Is anyone else at risk? Are you at risk? Why pick on a pharmaceutical maker. You save lives. You follow the logic wherever it leads, just like you taught me. And that leaves just one thing.” Elisabeth paused, suddenly chilled. “My God, Dad, what if someone is on the side of the germs? Please, please call. I love you.”

  Then Elisabeth called her husband at work, he was at Vector’s data center in South Seattle. “We need you home,” she said.

  “Hi, sweets,” Josh said. “How’s little Josh coming?”

  “Now you know we haven’t peeked. We might be having a girl. Little Josh or Elisabeth is not coming fast enough, partner. She or he is kicking and I am ready to get on with it. So very ready. When are you coming home, big guy?”

  “I need to stop by the Vector plant for five minutes; they are working three shifts because of the India emergency. Then home. Promise. An hour tops. What can I bring?”

  “Just that warm body of yours. I want to see the man I married at least once before he becomes a dad.”

  “Message received.”

  Chapter 21

  Downtown Seattle, 8:36 P.M.

  The secure, top floor conference room in Edge Medical’s corporate offices was open and stocked with coffee and snacks. Dr. John Owen glanced at the voice mail queue on his phone, spotted that Elisabeth had left a long message, and flagged it for attention…as soon as this meeting is over. Then he looked out the conference room window at the foggy, twinkling skyline. He had been pacing. “What the hell is keeping Lance McKernon?” he asked, turning to face the politicians at his table. “So where is your boss, Tom?”

  John was looking at Tom Ballwell, a young man in a crisp, white shirt and tie. He was a political consultant working out of the McKernon’s Seattle office. “The Senator can’t be much longer.” Ballwell was obviously worried.

  Gabriel sat impassively, his dress shirt and worsted wool suit framing the famous weathered face, leather bolo tie and long gray hair. “Lance is never this late,” he said quietly.

  “We’d better start anyway, don’t you think?” It was Utah Senator Thurston Smith, a compact blond man with wire rim glasses. Smith, a bundle of barely controlled energy, sat drumming his fingers on the table.

  Dr. Owen gave an authoritative look to Ken Wang, a husky young man sitting at the end of the long table. Wang was John’s long-time administrative aide and sole body guard and one of the kindest men he knew. “Shall I call the Senator’s office?”

  “Great idea,” Dr. Owen said, “and every other number until you get him.” Ken slipped out of the room.

  John sat down heavily, his lips pursed in worry. He looked around the table sensing the growing tension, an invisible current that ran through the room. In less than three hours, three key Senators, including his old friend, Gabriel, would be flying back to DC to attempt to block a treaty ratification that could change the course of American history. This was hardball. Hopefully three, he thought. Where the hell is Lance?

  “Should we go over strategy one more time?” Ballwell asked.

  “Fine,” Gabriel said, leaning forward. “We stress the danger to the constitution,” Gabriel said. “And we talk about extremists who don’t care about real people.”

  “Who still cares about the constitution these days?” Ballwell asked.

  “At least thirty-four Senators better,” Gabriel snorted, “or we soon won’t have one.”

  “Excuse me. John?” Ken Wang was standing in the doorway, looking agitated.

  “What did you find out?” John asked. Both Senators turned in their chairs, faces suddenly taut.

  Ken Wang was holding a phone in one hand. “Senator McKernon left his Seattle office in a hurry. He does not answer his cell. That’s all they can tell me.”

  “When?”

  “About two hours ago.”

  Gabriel cursed quietly.

  “We really need Lance,” Smith said. “He’ll carry at least twelve votes.”

  Gabriel scowled. “Give him another ten minutes? Then I think we better call the police.”

  “Yes,” Ballwell said. “Although, sometimes the Senator gets sidetracked. Please go on, Senator.”

  Gabriel looked at his friends in turn; then he carefully placed his hands on the table. “People said my Habitat bill would never be passed. But we did it.” He made a fist with his right hand. “I had no clue how extreme these European nuts were, how many good people they were willing to trample. The bottom line is that they don’t give a damn about people at all. The Habitat will be wrecked. These idiots will get an unbalanced, unmanaged, unintegrated set of ecosystems. Rogue species will rule. People will be banned. It’s nuts.”

  “They’re going to stonewall us—deny everything,” John said. “Maybe we should talk about the terrorist connection.”

  “How much can we really say in public?” Smith said. “We know there is a worldwide terrorist network, the G-A-N, which stands for Gaia’s Antibodies Network, we think. It probably started in Germany, with a huge budget that’s not traceable to any one place or person. We also know there are G-A-N terrorists in the American movement. We’re certain that some of them have access to the highest levels of power. There is more, but the best sources are anonymous and confidential.”

  “I say you use everything you have right now.” Dr. Owen said. “There may not be a second chance.”

  “I don’t have the votes to release all the files. Most of my committee refused to tar some very prominent people based on anonymous tips.”

  “What can you release?”

  “My opinion and that of experts who cannot be named is that the G-A-N very much wants this treaty passed. That this whole thing connects to a cult that sees the planet as Gaia, a living being, the alpha earth god or goddess. To these lunatics, people are a flipping infection. The terrorists are the antibodies. At the G-A-N command center a small group of mercenaries and ultra-radicals are led by cultic-religious fanatics.”

  “That’s dynamite, Senator,” Ballwell said. “Surely you can use some of this in the debates.”

  �
�And ask our fellow Senators to take it on faith that the G-A-N wants the Earth Restoration Treaty ratified? The polls say a majority of Americans want the same thing.”

  “Exactly who among the treaty’s supporters are these terrorists tied to?” John asked. “Surely you can ‘leak’ that much to us.”

  “Well?” Gabriel asked.

  Smith hesitated.

  “And why hasn’t your Committee’s final report on domestic terrorism come out yet?” John pressed.

  Senator Thurston Smith raised his hands. “Yes, I know my committee is sitting on dynamite. If I had stronger proof, I would also have the votes to let it out. But we’re not even close to finished with the investigation. We can’t accuse sitting senators and large contributors without more hard evidence.”

  “Sitting Senators? Large contributors? Who are they?” John pressed.

  “John, Gabriel, I’m so sorry. I did leak some of the partly redacted draft report to friends I can trust.”

  “All fifteen of us,” Gabriel said. “You need nineteen more friends, Thur.”

  “What’s in the rest of that piece, Gabriel?” John asked.

  “European money was laundered. Unexplained transfers in suspicious amounts to certain officials, some of them my colleagues. Links to well-known contributors, some of them with ties to half the Senate. But no names.”

  “We are out of time,” Ballwell said. “Public opinion now borders on hysteria.”

  “Can you blame them after all that’s happened?” Gabriel said. “One more disaster and I’m on board!”

  “Remember, we don’t have to carry the polls,” Smith said. “We just have to provide some backbone for thirty-four Senators. If they are assured that the truth will come out fairly soon, we might get them to stall the treaty vote. I just need ten days to finish the investigation.”