Kenner just nodded slowly. "And there we have it."
Sanjong was pointing to the computer screen, and Kenner came over, sliding into the seat next to him. The screen showed an aerial image of a tropical island, heavily forested, and a broad curving bay of blue water. The photo seemed to be taken from a low-flying airplane. Around the bay were four weathered wood shacks.
"Those are new," Sanjong said. "They went up in the last twenty-four hours."
"They look old."
"Yes, but they're not. Close inspection suggests that they are artificial. They may be made out of plastic instead of wood. The largest one appears to be a residence, and the other three house equipment."
"What kind of equipment?" Kenner said.
"Nothing has been visible in the photographs. The equipment was probably offloaded at night. But I went back and got a decent description from Hong Kong customs. The equipment consists of three hypersonic cavitation generators. Mounted in carbon matrix resonant impact assembly frames."
"Hypersonic cavitation equipment is for sale?"
"They got it. I don't know how."
Kenner and Sanjong were huddled together, speaking in low tones. Evans drifted over, leaned in close. "What's a hypersonic whatever-it-is?" he said quietly.
"Cavitation generator," Kenner said. "It's a high-energy acoustic device the size of a small truck that produces a radially symmetric cavitation field."
Evans looked blank.
"Cavitation," Sanjong explained, "refers to the formation of bubbles in a substance. When you boil water, that's cavitation. You can boil water with sound, too, but in this case the generators are designed to induce cavitation fields in a solid."
Evans said, "What solid?"
"The earth," Kenner said.
"I don't get it," Evans said. "They're going to make bubbles in the ground, like boiling water?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Why?"
They were interrupted by the arrival of Ann Garner. "Is this a boys-only meeting?" she said. "Or can anyone sit in?"
"Of course," Sanjong said, tapping the keyboard. The screen showed a dense array of graphs. "We were just reviewing the carbon dioxide levels of ice cores taken from Vostok and from North GRIP in Greenland."
"You guys can't keep me in the dark forever, you know," Ann said. "Sooner or later we will land this plane. And then I'm going to find out what you're really up to."
"That's true," Kenner said.
"Why not tell me now?"
Kenner just shook his head.
The pilot clicked the radio. "Check your seat belts, please," he said. "Prepare for landing in Honolulu."
Ann said, "Honolulu!"
"Where did you think we were going?"
"I thought--"
And then she broke off.
Sarah thought:She knows where we are going .
While they refueled at Honolulu, a customs inspector came onboard and asked to see their passports. He seemed amused by the presence of Ted Bradley, whom he referred to as "Mr. President"; Bradley in turn was pleased by the attention from a man in uniform.
After the customs officer checked their passports, he said to the group, "Your destination is filed as Gareda in the Solomon Islands. I just want to make sure you're aware of the travel advisory for Gareda. Most embassies have warned visitors against going there in view of the current conditions."
"What current conditions?" Ann said.
"There are rebels active on the island. There have been a number of murders. The Australian army went in last year and captured most of the rebels, but not all. There have been three murders in the last week, including two foreigners. One of the corpses was, uh, mutilated. And the head was taken."
"What?"
"The head was taken. Not while he was alive."
Ann turned to Kenner. "That's where we are going? Gareda?"
Kenner nodded slowly.
"What do you mean, the head was taken?"
"Presumably, it was for the skull."
"The skull," she repeated. "So...you're talking about headhunters..."
Kenner nodded.
"I'm getting off this plane," she said, and gathering up her hand bag, walked down the stairs.
Jennifer was just waking up. "What's her problem?"
"She doesn't like good-byes," Sanjong said.
Ted Bradley was stroking his chin in what he imagined was a thoughtful manner. He said, "A foreigner had his head cut off?"
"Apparently, it was worse than that," the customs officer said.
"Jesus. What's worse than that?" Bradley said, laughing.
The customs officer said, "The situation on the ground is not entirely clear. The reports are conflicting."
Bradley stopped laughing. "No. Seriously: I want to know. What's worse than beheading?"
There was a brief silence.
"They ate him," Sanjong said.
Bradley rocked back in his chair. "Theyate him?"
The customs officer nodded. "Parts of him," he said. "At least, that's the report."
"Holy shit," Bradley said. "Which parts? Never mind, I don't want to know. Jesus Christ. Theyate the guy."