Deception Point Page 44

Lets go Norah shouted, pulling the tethe redness group along as she headed toward the perimeter of the illuminated circle. I dont know what NASAs up to here, plainly I sure as hell dont appreciate creation used as a pawn for their-Norah Mangors neck snapped back as if shed been rammed in the supercilium by some invisible force. She let out a guttural gasp of pain, wavered, and collapsed backward onto the ice. Almost instantly, Corky let out a abuse and spun around as if his shoulder had been propelled backward. He fell to the ice, writhing in pain.Rachel immediately forgot each round the printout in her hand, Ming, the meteorite, and the bizarre tunnel beneath the ice. She had except felt a small projectile graze her ear, barely missing her temple. Instinctively, she dropped to her knees, yanking Tolland down with her.Whats going on Tolland screamed.A hailstorm was all Rachel could imagine-balls of ice blowing down cancelled the glacier-and yet from the force with which Corky and Norah had just been hit, Rachel knew the hailstones would permit to be moving at hundreds of miles an hour. Eerily, the sudden shelling of marble-sized objects seemed now to focus on Rachel and Tolland, pelting all around them, sending up plumes of exploding ice. Rachel rolled onto her stomach, dug her crampons toe spikes into the ice, and launched toward the only cover available. The sled. Tolland arrived a moment later, scrambling and hunkering down beside her.Tolland looked out at Norah and Corky open on the ice. Pull them in with the tether he yelled, grabbing the rope and trying to pull.But the tether was wrapped around the sled.Rachel stuffed the printout in the Velcro pocket of her ensure IX suit, and scrambled on all fours toward the sled, trying to untangle the rope from the sled runners. Tolland was right behind her.The hailstones suddenly rained down in a barrage against the sled, as if Mother Nature had abandoned Corky and Norah and was taking direct aim at Rach el and Tolland. One of the projectiles slammed into the top of the sled tarp, partially embedding itself, and then bounced over, get on the sleeve of Rachels coat.When Rachel saw it, she froze. In an instant, the bewilderment she had been feeling turned to terror. These hailstones were man-made. The ball of ice on her sleeve was a flawlessly shaped ellipsoid of revolution the size of a large cherry. The surface was polished and smooth, marred only by a linear seam around the circumference, like an old-fashioned send musket ball, machined in a press. The globular pellets were, without a doubt, man-made.Ice bulletsAs someone with phalanx clearance, Rachel was well acquainted with the new experimental IM weaponry-Improvised Munitions-snow rifles that compacted snow into ice pellets, abandon rifles that melted sand into glass projectiles, water-based firearms that shot pulses of liquid water with such force that they could break bones. Improvised Munitions weaponry had an enormous a dvantage over courtly weapons because IM weapons used available resources and literally manufactured munitions on the spot, providing soldiers unlimited rounds without their having to carry heavy conventional bullets. The ice balls being fired at them now, Rachel knew, were being categorical on demand from snow fed into the butt of the rifle.As was often the case in the intelligence world, the more one knew, the more frightening a scenario became. This moment was no exception. Rachel would have preferred blissful ignorance, but her knowledge of IM weaponry instantly led her to a sole chilling conclusion They were being attacked by some kind of U.S. Special Ops force, the only forces in the country currently cleared to use these experimental IM weapons in the field.The presence of a military covert operations unit brought with it a second, even more terrifying realization The probability of surviving this attack was close to zero.The morbid thought was alter as one of the ice pell ets found an opening and came screaming through the wall of gear on the sled, colliding with her stomach. Even in her padded Mark IX suit, Rachel felt like an invisible prizefighter had just gut-punched her. Stars began to dance around the periphery of her vision, and she teetered backward, grabbing gear on the sled for balance. Michael Tolland dropped Norahs tether and lunged to support Rachel, but he arrived too late. Rachel fell backward, pulling a pile of equipment with her. She and Tolland tumbled to the ice in a pile of electronic apparatus.Theyre bullets, she gasped, the air momentarily crushed from her lungs. Run50The Washington MetroRail sub flair now leaving Federal Triangle station could not speed away from the White House fast enough for Gabrielle Ashe. She sit rigid in a deserted corner of the set as darkened shapes tore past outside in a blur. Marjorie Tenchs big red envelope lay in Gabrielles lap, pressing down like a ten-ton weight.Ive got to talk to Sexton she thou ght, the train accelerating now in the direction of Sextons office build. presentlyNow, in the dim, shifting light of the train, Gabrielle felt like she was enduring some kind of hallucinogenic drug trip. Muted lights whipped by overhead like slow-motion disco strobes. The ponderous tunnel rose on all sides like a deepening canyon.Tell me this is not happening.She gazed down at the envelope on her lap. Unclasping the flap, she reached interior and pulled out one of the photos. The internal lights of the train flickered for a moment, the harsh glare illuminating a shocking image-Sedgewick Sexton lying naked in his office, his gratify face turned perfectly toward the camera while Gabrielles dark form lay nude beside him.She shivered, rammed the photo back inside, and fumbled to reclasp the envelope.Its over.As soon as the train exited the tunnel and climbed onto the aboveground tracks near LEnfant Plaza, Gabrielle dug out her cellphone and called the senators private cellular numb er. His voice mail answered. Puzzled, she phoned the senators office. The secretary answered.Its Gabrielle. Is he in?The secretary sounded peeved. Where have you been? He was looking for you.I had a meeting that ran long. I need to talk to him right away.Youll have to wait till morning. Hes at Westbrooke.Westbrooke Place high life Apartments was the building where Sexton kept his D.C. residence. Hes not picking up his private line, Gabrielle said.He blocked off tonight as a P.E., the secretary re principaled. He left early.Gabrielle scowled. Personal Event. In all the excitement, shed forgotten Sexton had scheduled himself a night alone at home. He was very particular about not being disturbed during his P.E. blocks. Bang on my door only if the building is on fire, he would say. Other than that, it can wait until morning. Gabrielle decided Sextons building was definitely on fire. I need you to reach him for me.Impossible.This is serious, I really-No, I mean literally impossible. He left his pager on my desk on his way out and told me he was not to be disturbed all night. He was adamant. She paused. More so than usual.Shit. Okay, thanks. Gabrielle hung up.LEnfant Plaza, a recording announced in the subway car. linkup all stations.Closing her eyes, Gabrielle tried to clear her mind, but devastating images rushed in the lurid photos of herself and the senator the pile of documents alleging Sexton was taking bribes. Gabrielle could still hear Tenchs rasping demands. Do the right thing. Sign the affidavit. Admit the affair.As the train screeched into the station, Gabrielle forced herself to imagine what the senator would do if the photos hit the presses. The first thing to pop in her mind both shocked and shamed her.