“What kind of questions?”
“Don't get nervous. He's asking about the FBI investigation of Alex Graham. It's perfectly logical, since the woman and his wife are such good friends.”
“He may know something.”
Betworth shook his head. “He may suspect something. No one knows anything. And in seven days it won't matter anyway. So calm down and just go about your job. I only told you because I didn't want you hearing from someone else and panicking.”
“I'm not panicking. I'm anxious. You always underestimate me. I'm the one who set up Matanza. I have a right to be anxious.”
“Of course you do.” Danley's sudden rebellion surprised Betworth. “Anxiety is fine. It keeps the edge. Overconfidence can be fatal. Who's assigned to go down and keep Matanza in line?”
“I thought I'd go myself.”
“No, I'll need you at Z-3. Besides, you're too visible. Andreas might miss you and ask questions.”
“Then I'll send Al Leary. He's competent, and he worked out the deal between Morales and Matanza at Fairfax.”
“Since Morales was taken down, I wouldn't say that would inspire much faith in the group.”
“They don't have to have faith. We're giving them what they want and they're giving us what we want. If you don't need me, I'll leave Wednesday for Z-3.”
Betworth felt a surge of excitement. It was going to happen. For years he'd worked and planned and now it was almost here. “Go ahead. If there's any emergency, I'll be in touch.”
“There had better not be an emergency.”
It sounded almost like a threat. Well, he could handle that later. He had plenty of ammunition to keep Danley in line. Right now it was time to use honey. “Everything is going smoothly, thanks to you. It's amazing what one intelligent man can accomplish.” He stopped at the Capitol steps. “Now, smile and wave good-bye. A very casual good-bye.”
Danley's gaze went to the head of the steps, where Carl Shepard was standing surrounded by congressmen. “What's he doing here?”
“Trying to swing votes for Andreas on the environmental bill. He probably won't succeed. He's no Andreas.”
“You can say that again. But I hear he's done well working to improve Homeland Security.”
“That's a piece of cake. Security is on everyone's mind these days. Environment is much more difficult. I'm the only one who can swing those votes. But I'll shake Shepard's hand and look properly impressed and flattered at the attention of the honorable Vice President. Then I'll fade into the background with my fellow congressmen.”
“Not much chance of that.” Danley turned and moved toward the parking lot.
He was right, Betworth thought. His star was ascending, not setting, and there was no way he was going to let it fade away.
11
“I found it.” Alex threw the papers down on the table in front of Morgan. “Maybe.”
“Well, that's definite.” Morgan picked up the sheets. “Lontana?”
“Philip Lontana. A Brazilian oceanographer. Very well respected in the profession. He's done it all—written reports on the deterioration of the barrier reefs, searched for lost cities, drawn charts of unexplored undersea territory. One of his pet projects was the study of oceanic thermal vents.”
“And that leads us where?”
“Two years ago he wrote a paper that was published in Nautilus. It's a fairly obscure professional journal and that's the reason it took me so long to find it. It dealt with the possibility of tapping deep into the earth's core itself, of creating vents that could be controlled by sonic technology. It would take a complicated mathematical formula each time to make the necessary insertion, but he was sure he was on the right track. He was already working on the device.” She shook her head. “He was all excited about the prospect of an unlimited power source that would change the way we live.”
“Or the way we die. He didn't think of the possibility of using it as a weapon?”
“He mentioned it but then skimmed right over any disadvantages, stressing an energy source that could save the planet. Let the UN take care of the problems.”
“Not the Brazilian government?”
“Evidently he wasn't fond of the Brazilian government. Early in his career he'd located a sunken Spanish galleon and he had to give half his finder's fee to the government. He rambles on quite a bit about salvage rights and the rights of the individual. He sounds like an eccentric.”
“Or a nut cake?”
“Maybe a brilliant nut cake. But evidently the scientific community didn't take him seriously. There are several follow-up replies to his report from other oceanographers. They said what he was proposing was impossible, since the earth's core lies nearly six thousand kilometers below the surface.”