THE WHITE HOUSE

The president listened with difficulty to Niles as he gave the latest update on the Group’s incursion into the Amazon tributary. He was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on the words the director was saying. He had informed the First Lady about the predicament their daughter was in; he couldn’t keep it from her any longer, unable to lie about something that was clearly showing on his face every time he saw her.

“The latest coordinates have been passed onto Proteus so they will have a general idea where they will need to orbit.” Niles repeated the longitude and latitude.

“Anything else?”

“Not yet, Mr. President, Pete Golding and I have been assembling a time-line and historical record for everything we have on Padilla and the subsequent expeditions to that area. A most important bit of intelligence should be in our hands soon. A man in his nineties, Dr. Allan Freeman, a retired professor from the University of Chicago, will be able to finally tell us what it was he was doing down there in 1942.”

The president could hardly pay attention to these details. “When is Collins going into the mine?”

“They are starting now.”

The national security advisor sat with the president on one of the two couches arranged in front of his desk, waiting for the president to continue. But the man sat silently, the fingers of his right hand rubbing his right temple.

“Sir, you were saying?” prodded Nathan Ambrose.

The president looked up and seemed lost for a moment, not recognizing the face looking at him. Then he shook his head as if startled awake.

“I’m sorry, Nathan. Caught me there, didn’t you?”

“Is there something happening that you’re not telling me about?”

The president looked at him and said nothing.

Ambrose tossed his notebook onto the coffee table and leaned forward on the couch.

“Has the secretary of state made any headway with your request for assistance from Brazil?”

“No, for some reason Brazil is acting as though the Zachary expedition was a cover for something else. They’re stonewalling the secretary.”

“Have you spoken with the Brazilian president yourself?”

“No, Secretary Nussbaum informed me that the president will not speak to me directly, but only through the secretary’s official office. He’s even threatened to go to the UN Security Council.”

Ambrose had to admire the secretary; he did have the balls it took to run this country. Keeping the leaders of both countries at arm’s length could only cloud an already confusing state.

The door from the outer office opened and a Secret Service officer stepped in.

“Sir, the First Lady is on her way down for the reception.”

The president stood and walked to his desk as he pulled up the knot of his tie and buttoned his jacket.

“Sorry, we’ll pick this up later.”

“Sir, I’m your national security advisor. You have to tell me what’s happening here.”

The president straightened his tie and then brushed at his lapels. “It’s being handled. But if things become more active, I’ll get you up to date.”

“Sir, you’re moving whole carrier groups around the Pacific. You shut down Panamanian airspace for three hours without any official explanation, and the secretary of state is trying hard to avert a conflict with a friendly neighbor where there wasn’t a conflict this morning.”

“Later, Nathan,” the president said, clenching his teeth. His jaw muscles worked visibly beneath his skin as he glared at his advisor, then he brushed passed him.

Ambrose watched his boss leave and then counted to three. He moved quickly to the president’s phone, then quickly looked up to make sure the doors were closed. He had decided to take a very dangerous but necessary chance three hours earlier while the president was with the First Lady. He had placed a small bug inside the cap of the receiver, a small gift from a friend across the river. He deftly unscrewed the cap, transferred the small device to his pocket, then replaced the cap. He then moved swiftly away from the desk. None too soon, as the outer door opened and a Secret Service agent stepped through.

“Mr. Ambrose, you know this area is off limits when the president isn’t in.” “Yes, I was just gathering my briefing materials; the president left rather abruptly.” The national security advisor made a show of reaching for his case as the agent reached out and held the door open for him, the move so sudden it made Ambrose nervous.

Once in his own office, Ambrose decided that the information on the miniature recorder couldn’t wait. He had to know what was going on. He removed the small round object from his pocket and placed it inside a small device that resembled an iPod. He quickly tapped the play button as he put on his headphone. A voice he didn’t recognize explained to the president a plan Ambrose just couldn’t believe. As he listened, he jotted down the coordinates Niles Compton had given in his last phone conversation. This information had to be placed in the hands of the secretary as soon as possible. The national security advisor had to stop this mission at all costs. How had the military sneaked Proteus by him?

Ten minutes later, after he had used several sources in the military to confirm the existence of Proteus and its abilities, he placed a call to the U.S. embassy in Brazil. The private cell phone number was answered by the American secretary of state.

“I hope you’ve come through for us, Mr. Top Advisor.”

Ambrose didn’t like the tone the secretary was taking with him lately. They would have to discuss their roles in this melodrama at a later date.

“You believe the president already has people on the ground in Brazil. Well, I may have just confirmed it.”

“Imagine that, the national security advisor to the president of the United States has come up with something concerning the military he was supposed to be overseeing in the first place. I’m stunned. I’ll have you know, I also have people on the ground, thanks to our Brazilian Air Force friend.”

Ambrose closed his eyes and waited for the secretary’s sarcasm to run its course. Lying to both presidents must be taking its toll, and it was coming through in the cabinet member’s temper.

The advisor continued, “I can’t confirm the rescue attempt, but I believe I may have come across their security blanket against your mercenaries. And it’s right up the road you wanted to go. To protect the ground unit in the Amazon Basin, the president has ordered up a Proteus scenario.”

“That Star Wars crap the air force has? I thought that project had been shelved.”

“It was. But the air force flexed its muscle and got one prototype built before the cancellation.”

“So, what’s this to do with what I need?”

“Think, Mr. Secretary. In order for Proteus to be of any value, they have to be on station.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Ambrose couldn’t resist a smirk. Having the upper hand in talking with the secretary was a situation he liked very much.

The national security advisor decided to spell it out. “They’ll have to intrude on Brazilian airspace to accomplish their mission against the force you arrayed. However, I am now in possession of the coordinates where Proteus will be taking up station. I’m sure the president of Brazil would be none too happy over having their sovereign territory not only invaded but their airspace compromised. Down that plane and there will be no helping the ground team when they need it most. Let’s see the president talk his way out of that one. I think you may say that he has pulled the rug out from under your diplomatic efforts, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I believe you have indeed earned your spot in my new cabinet, Mr. Ambrose. I will contact our friend in the Brazilian government and get his guarantee of action.”

“Not too hard to do with what you have hanging over his head already.”

“Remember, Mr. Advisor, we’re still talking about American men in that aircraft and the people on the ground. I just hope we haven’t gone too far.”

“By my estimation, Mr. Secretary, we’ve gone just far enough already. We have covered exactly thirteen steps up the gallow’s staircase. And with your official statements to both sides confusing the issue of a rescue, I would think its safe to say that the few remaining steps to the hangman’s rope are already in the bank. I see no other choice here.”

“Give me the coordinates.”