GeoEye-1 had been funded primarily by the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency (NGA) to the tune of $478 million. The decision had been made by the NGA’s new director, Lieutenant General James Culpepper, who happened to be an acquaintance of three of the Foundation’s seven founders. They had called in some favors to get Culpepper the job, so when the original puppet masters contacted him on behalf of GeoEye, Culpepper was not about to say no. To that request, or anything else. Culpepper readily committed half a billion dollars of taxpayer money.
It took one phone call.
In exchange for that one phone call, GeoEye granted the American Heritage Foundation unlimited access to the classified portion of the satellite. It turned out to be costing the company roughly $53 million a year in lost revenue, but no one in the company ever complained. Particularly since the chairman was about to ask for the Foundation’s help to secure the funding for their next satellite, GeoEye-2, which was going to cost over a billion dollars.
Stenson talked to the senator warmly, like they were old friends. “Give Justice Barkley my best, won’t you?”
“I’ll do that.” It somehow made the senator feel better that he wasn’t the only one under the thumb of the American Heritage Foundation.
“Allow me to get right to the point, Senator. It appears Dr. Marcus Fenton’s patient has managed to make his echo box work. Acoustic archeology is real.”
The head of Corbin’s six-iron club dropped to the fairway as his arm went limp. “I don’t believe it.”
“We were dubious as well, but circumstances lead us to believe otherwise.”
“What circumstances?”
“Fenton’s head of security has issued a federal warrant for the arrest of a doctor and patient who left hospital grounds in possession of the echo box.”
Davis remained skeptical. “Could be just another one of his ploys.”
“True. But if the echo box is working, we believe Fenton’s objective in reacquiring the device will be to take it underground.”
Davis was flabbergasted. He’d never trusted the arrogant son of a bitch, and sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. “He’ll never get away with it.”
“Senator, all he’d have to do is claim the device still doesn’t work, and no one would be the wiser.”
It was so obvious. Davis didn’t have to be convinced of what Marcus Fenton was capable of. “If this technology is real, it should be in the hands of the NSA or NRO. Certainly not Fenton’s.”
“We believe that, as chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, you need to hear a demonstration for yourself to confirm its legitimacy.”
Davis liked this idea. He liked it a lot. “How would you suggest I go about arranging such a demonstration?”
Senator Corbin Davis had just asked the right question. “The New York office of Homeland Security is at your disposal. National Director Merrell will do whatever you tell him. He doesn’t need to know the specifics. All he needs to know is that the device is classified, and that his agents are to take possession of it from the NYPD.”
“Won’t Fenton’s people have something to say about that?”
“It’s private security guards in the employ of a government-funded psychiatric facility versus federal agents from the Department of Homeland Security. Who do you think will flinch first?”
Davis smiled, glad as hell that Stenson and he were on the same side. “I’m calling Director Merrell now.”
“Let us know if we can be of any assistance.”
After hanging up with Davis, Stenson turned to his protégé, who had been allowed to remain in the office as he spoke to the senator. “Any questions?”
Jason Greers was humbled. All he had strategically considered was how quickly they could get their independent contractors to converge on New York City. It hadn’t occurred to him that the far more elegant solution was to get others to do the work for them. It only took one phone call and wouldn’t cost them a dime. And it further cemented their new relationship with the Indiana senator.
It was the American Heritage Foundation who would take the echo box underground, not Dr. Fenton. The old windbag had surely planned to use the device to tout his own genius and keep his facility funded in perpetuity. The Foundation, however, was going to keep the echo box all to itself. They would know even more than they did now, and no one would be the wiser.
But a few specifics still needed explaining. “You don’t actually intend to allow Senator Davis to hear the device, do you?”
Stenson smirked. “Absolutely.” From behind his desk, he studied Greers, who looked confused until Stenson finished mapping out the upcoming steps in detail.
If there was ever a doubt in Jason Greers’s mind about his chosen career, Stenson knew it was long gone. “If we have the echo box, and no one else does, that would be . . . a very good thing for us.”
“That’s rather an understatement, don’t you think?”
Greers nodded. “I thought you would appreciate it.”
“I do,” Stenson acknowledged.
The protégé considered what was to follow. “Eventually, Edward Parks will try to build another prototype.”
“If he is given the resources, of course he will.”
“Fenton could manage to find someone else to step in.”
“He could.” The mentor wanted his charge to see it for himself. The move was obvious.
“Doesn’t that concern you?”
“Does it look like it concerns me?” Stenson locked eyes with Greers. See it, already. See it.
It took only another moment before Greers understood. “We’re not going to let that happen.”
“Of course not.” Stenson smiled. Greers had passed yet another test. “The moment we are in possession of the echo box and confirm that it’s operational, Edward Parks becomes a liability.”
CHAPTER 48
Sixth Precinct, New York City, May 27, 3:11 p.m.
Interrogation Room Five was pretty much the same as the other four interrogation rooms inside the Sixth Precinct. A windowless box with a metal table and two chairs in the middle. The table was scratched with graffiti. The chairs repaired with duct tape. Eddie stood, slowly rotating his head back and forth as he made himself comfortable. They had parked two blocks away on Beach Street, and entered the station through the west emergency exit, just as the lieutenant had instructed. “Detective McHenry, why is this room called an interrogation room?”
“Because it’s where we interrogate suspects.”
“Why do you interrogate suspects?”
“To see what they will reveal about a particular crime.”
“Do they ever lie?”
“Only when they open their mouths.”
Eddie looked around the walls of the room. “There are probably a lot of very interesting echoes bouncing all around us.”
Skylar chimed in. “I bet there are, too.”
“Why would you bet, Skylar?”
“Because I believe you are correct. And if you believe something is correct, people sometimes make a wager on that belief.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Would you like me to lend you some?” she asked with her usual warmth, which kept Eddie at ease.
“Five million dollars, please.”
She was reminded that money had no meaning for him. Skylar took out a bill. “I don’t happen to have that much on me at the moment. How about one dollar?”
“Is that enough to bet with?”
“Yes, Eddie. It’s plenty.”
“Okay. One dollar.” Eddie accepted the currency, staring at it with interest. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it, or even how to hold it. “I bet one dollar.”
“I bet one dollar, too.” She placed a bill on the table. Eddie copied her action, putting his dollar next to hers.
“That’s two dollars in the pot,” she told him.
“What pot?”
Skylar clarified, “Whoever wins the bet gets to keep both dollars.”
“Forever?” Eddie asked with a degree of amazement.
“You can do whatever you want with them.”
“Can I buy a car?”
“No, Eddie, you cannot buy a car.”
“You said, ‘You can do whatever you want with them.’” Butler was visibly amazed at Eddie’s imitation of Skylar.
“You can do anything that only costs two dollars.”
“What costs only two dollars?”
“Well, a pretzel, for one thing.”
Butler interrupted, “Could we please get on with this?”
Skylar nodded to Eddie. “I will tell you some things you can buy for two dollars after you win the bet. Let’s hear the echoes.”
CHAPTER 49