danbrown.deceptionpoint-第40部分

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　the　spotlight　without　my　letting　one　of　their　slipshod　errors　cast　a　shadow　over　our　public　moment　of　glory。　Dr。　Ming's　accident　remains　a　secret　until　after　the　press　conference。　Do　you　understand？〃
　The　man　nodded；　pale。　〃I'll　stow　his　body。〃
　
　　
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　Michael　Tolland　had　been　at　sea　enough　times　to　know　the　ocean　took　victims　without　remorse　or　hesitation。　As　he　lay　in　exhaustion　on　the　expansive　sheet　of　ice；　he　could　just　make　out　the　ghostly　outline　of　the　towering　Milne　Ice　Shelf　receding　in　the　distance。　He　knew　the　powerful　Arctic　current　flowing　off　the　Elizabethan　Islands　spiraled　in　an　enormous　loop　around　the　polar　ice　cap　and　would　eventually　skirt　land　in　northern　Russia。　Not　that　it　mattered。　That　would　be　months　from　now。
　We've　got　maybe　thirty　minutes。。。　forty…five　at　the　most。
　Without　the　protective　insulation　of　their　gel…filled　suits；　Tolland　knew　they　would　be　dead　already。　Thankfully；　the　Mark　IXs　had　kept　them　dry…the　most　critical　aspect　of　surviving　cold　weather。　The　thermal　gel　around　their　bodies　had　not　only　cushioned　their　fall；　but　it　was　now　helping　their　bodies　retain　what　little　heat　they　had　left。
　Soon　hypothermia　would　set　in。　It　would　start　with　a　vague　numbness　in　limbs　as　the　blood　retreated　to　the　body's　core　to　protect　the　critical　internal　organs。　Delirious　hallucinations　would　e　next；　as　the　pulse　and　respiration　slowed；　cheating　the　brain　of　oxygen。　Then；　the　body　would　make　a　final　effort　to　conserve　its　remaining　heat　by　shutting　down　all　operations　except　the　heart　and　respiration。　Unconsciousness　would　follow。　In　the　end；　heart　and　respiration　centers　in　the　brain　would　stop　functioning　altogether。
　Tolland　turned　his　gaze　toward　Rachel；　wishing　he　could　do　something　to　save　her。
　　
　The　numbness　spreading　through　Rachel　Sexton's　body　was　less　painful　than　she　would　have　imagined。　Almost　a　wele　anesthetic。　Nature's　morphine。　She　had　lost　her　goggles　in　the　collapse；　and　she　could　barely　open　her　eyes　against　the　cold。
　She　could　see　Tolland　and　Corky　on　the　ice　nearby。　Tolland　was　looking　at　her；　eyes　filled　with　regret。　Corky　was　moving　but　obviously　in　pain。　His　right　cheekbone　was　smashed　and　bloody。
　Rachel's　body　trembled　wildly　as　her　mind　searched　for　answers。　Who？　Why？　Her　thoughts　were　muddled　by　a　growing　heaviness　inside　her。　Nothing　was　making　sense。　She　felt　like　her　body　was　slowly　shutting　down；　lulled　by　an　invisible　force　pulling　her　to　sleep。　She　fought　it。　A　fiery　anger　ignited　within　her　now；　and　she　tried　to　fan　the　flames。
　They　tried　to　kill　us！　She　peered　out　at　the　threatening　sea　and　sensed　their　attackers　had　succeeded。　We're　already　dead。　Even　now；　knowing　she　would　probably　not　live　to　learn　the　whole　truth　about　the　deadly　game　being　played　out　on　the　Milne　Ice　Shelf；　Rachel　suspected　she　already　knew　who　to　blame。
　Administrator　Ekstrom　had　the　most　to　gain。　He　was　the　one　who　sent　them　out　on　the　ice。　He　had　ties　to　the　Pentagon　and　Special　Ops。　But　what　did　Ekstrom　have　to　gain　by　inserting　the　meteorite　beneath　the　ice？　What　did　anyone　have　to　gain？
　Rachel　flashed　on　Zach　Herney；　wondering　if　the　President　was　a　coconspirator　or　an　unknowing　pawn？　Herney　knows　nothing。　He's　innocent。　The　President　obviously　had　been　duped　by　NASA。　Now　Herney　was　only　about　an　hour　away　from　making　NASA's　announcement。　And　he　would　do　so　armed　with　a　video　documentary　containing　endorsements　from　four　civilian　scientists。
　Four　dead　civilian　scientists。
　Rachel　could　do　nothing　to　stop　the　press　conference　now；　but　she　vowed　that　whoever　was　responsible　for　this　attack　would　not　get　away　with　it。
　Summoning　her　strength；　Rachel　tried　to　sit　up。　Her　limbs　felt　like　granite；　all　her　joints　screaming　in　pain　as　she　bent　her　legs　and　arms。　Slowly；　she　pulled　herself　to　her　knees；　steadying　herself　on　the　flat　ice。　Her　head　spun。　All　around　her　the　ocean　churned。　Tolland　lay　nearby；　gazing　up　at　her　with　inquisitive　eyes。　Rachel　sensed　he　probably　thought　she　was　kneeling　in　prayer。　She　was　not；　of　course；　although　prayer　probably　had　as　good　a　chance　of　saving　them　as　what　she　was　about　to　attempt。
　Rachel's　right　hand　fumbled　across　her　waist　and　found　the　ice　ax　still　bungeed　to　her　belt。　Her　stiff　fingers　gripped　the　handle。　She　inverted　the　ax；　positioning　it　like　an　upside　down　T。　Then；　with　all　her　energy；　she　drove　the　butt　downward　into　the　ice。　Thud。　Again。　Thud。　The　blood　felt　like　cold　molasses　in　her　veins。　Thud。　Tolland　looked　on　in　obvious　confusion。　Rachel　drove　the　ax　down　again。　Thud。
　Tolland　tried　to　lift　himself　onto　his　elbow。　〃Ra。。。　chel？〃
　She　did　not　answer。　She　needed　all　her　energy。　Thud。　Thud。
　〃I　don't　think。。。　；〃　Tolland　said；　〃this　far　north。。。　that　the　SAA。。。　could　hear。。。　〃
　Rachel　turned；　surprised。　She　had　forgotten　Tolland　was　an　oceanographer　and　might　have　some　idea　what　she　was　up　to。　Right　idea。。。　but　I'm　not　calling　the　SAA。
　She　kept　pounding。
　The　SAA　stood　for　a　Suboceanic　Acoustic　Array；　a　relic　of　the　Cold　War　now　used　by　oceanographers　worldwide　to　listen　for　whales。　Because　underwater　sounds　carried　for　hundreds　of　miles；　the　SAA　network　of　fifty…nine　underwater　microphones　around　the　world　could　listen　to　a　surprisingly　large　percentage　of　the　planet's　oceans。　Unfortunately；　this　remote　section　of　the　Arctic　was　not　part　of　that　percentage；　but　Rachel　knew　there　were　others　out　there　listening　to　the　ocean　floor…others　that　few　on　earth　knew　existed。　She　kept　pounding。　Her　message　was　simple　and　clear。
　THUD。　THUD。　THUD。
　THUD。。。　THUD。。。　THUD。。。　
　THUD。　THUD。　THUD。
　Rachel　had　no　delusions　that　her　actions　would　save　their　lives；　she　could　already　feel　a　frosty　tightness　gripping　her　body。　She　doubted　she　had　a　half　hour　of　life　left　in　her。　Rescue　was　beyond　the　realm　of　possibility　now。　But　this　was　not　about　rescue。
　THUD。　THUD。　THUD。
　THUD。。。　THUD。。。　THUD。。。　
　THUD。　THUD。　THUD。
　〃There's。。。　no　time。。。　〃　Tolland　said。
　It's　not。。。　about　us；　she　thought。　It's　about　the　information　in　my　pocket。　Rachel　pictured　the　incriminating　GPR　printout　inside　the　Velcro　pocket　of　her　Mark　IX　suit。　I　need　to　get　the　GPR　printout　into　the　hands　of　the　NRO。。。　and　soon。
　Even　in　her　delirious　state；　Rachel　was　certain　her　message　would　be　received。　In　the　mid…eighties；　the　NRO　had　replaced　the　SAA　with　an　array　thirty　times　as　powerful。　Total　global　coverage：　Classic　Wizard；　the　NRO's　12　million　ear　to　the　ocean　floor。　In　the　next　few　hours　the　Cray　superputers　at　the　NRO/NSA　listening　post　in　Menwith　Hill；　England；　would　flag　an　anomalous　sequence　in　one　of　the　Arctic's　hydrophones；　decipher　the　pounding　as　an　SOS；　triangulate　the　coordinates；　and　dispatch　a　rescue　plane　from　Thule　Air　Force　Base　in　Greenland。　The　plane　would　find　three　bodies　on　an　iceberg。　Frozen。　Dead。　One　would　be　an　NRO　employee。。。　and　she　would　be　carrying　a　strange　piece　of　thermal　paper　in　her　pocket。
　A　GPR　printout。
　Norah　Mangor's　final　legacy。
　When　the　rescuers　studied　the　printout；　the　mysterious　insertion　tunnel　beneath　the　meteorite　would　be　revealed。　From　there；　Rachel　had　no　idea　what　would　happen；　but　at　least　the　secret　would　not　die　with　them　here　on　the　ice。
　
　　
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　Every　president's　transition　into　the　White　House　involves　a　private　tour　of　three　heavily　guarded　warehouses　containing　priceless　collections　of　past　White　House　furniture：　desks；　silverware；　bureaus；　beds；　and　other　items　used　by　past　presidents　as　far　back　as　George　Washington。　During　the　tour；　the　transitioning　president　is　invited　to　select　any　heirlooms　he　likes　and　use　them　as　furnishings　inside　the　White　House　during　his　term。　Only　the　bed　in　the　Lincoln　Bedroom　is　a　permanent　White　House　fixture。　Ironically；　Lincoln　never　slept　in　it。
　The　desk　at　which　Zach　Herney　was　currently　sitting　inside　the　Oval　Office　had　once　belonged　to　his　idol；　Harry　Truman。　The　desk；　though　small　by　modern　standards；　served　as　a　daily　reminder　to　Zach　Herney　that　the　〃buck〃　did　indeed　stop　here；　and　that　Herney　was　ultimately　responsible　for　any　shortings　of　his　administration。　Herney　accepted　the　responsibility　as　an　honor　and　did　his　best　to　instill　in　his　staff　the　motivations　to　do　whatever　it　took　to　get　the　job　done。
　〃Mr。　President？〃　his　secretary　called　out；　peering　into　the　office。　〃Your　call　just　went　through。〃
　Herney　waved。　〃Thank　you。〃
　He　reached　for　his　phone。　He　would　have　preferred　some　privacy　for　this　call；　but　he　sure　as　hell　was　not　going　to　get　any　of　that　right　now。　Two　makeup　specialists　hovered　like　gnats；　poking　and　primping　at　his　face　and　hair。　Directly　in　front　of　his　desk；　a　television　crew　was　setting　up；　and　an　endless　swarm　of　advisers　and　PR　people　scurried　around　the　office；　excitedly　discussing　strategy。
　T　minus　one　hour。。。　
　Herney　pressed　the　illuminated　button　on　his　private　phone。　〃Lawrence？　You　there？〃
　〃I'm　here。〃　The　NASA　administrator's　voice　sounded　consumed；　distant。
　〃Everything　okay　up　there？〃
　〃Storm's　still　moving　in；　but　my　people　tell　me　the　satellite　link　will　not　be　affected。　We're　good　to　go。　One　hour　and　counting。〃
　〃Excellent。　Spirits　high；　I　hope。〃
　〃Very　high。　My　staff's　excited。　In　fact；　we　just　shared　some　beers。〃
　Herney　laughed。　〃Glad　to　hear　it。　Look；　I　wanted　to　call　and　thank　you　before　we　do　this　thing。　Tonight's　going　to　be　one　hell　of　a　night。〃
　The　administrator　paused；　sounding　uncharacteristically　uncertain。　〃That　it　will；　sir。　We've　been　waiting　a　long　time　for　this。〃
　Herney　hesitated。　〃You　sound　exhausted。〃
　〃I　need　some　sunlight　and　a　real　bed。〃
　〃One　more　hour。　Smile　for　the　cameras；　enjoy　the　moment；　and　then　we'll　get　a　plane　up　there　to　bring　you　back　to　D。C。〃
　〃Looking　forward　to　it。〃　The　man　fell　silent　again。
　As　a　skilled　negotiator；　Herney　was　trained　to　listen；　to　hear　what　was　being　said　between　the　lines。　Something　in　the　administrator's　voice　sounded　off　somehow。　〃You　sure　everything's　okay　up　there？〃
　〃Absolutely。　All　systems　go。〃　The　administrator　seemed　eager　to　change　the　subject。　〃Did　you　see　the　final　cut　of　Michael　Tolland's　documentary？〃
　〃Just　watched　it；〃　Herney　said。　〃He　did　a　fantastic　job。〃
　〃Yes。　You　made　a　good　call　bringing　him　in。〃
　〃Still　mad　at　me　for　involving　civilia