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“As you probably know, relations with Mexico have been strained due to the immigration issue among other things. However, things have thawed a bit with what happened to Padilla. I know he’s an accidental hero, but he still lost his life. And we need heroes wherever we can find them. The story has gotten favorable play in Mexico and here. The people of our two nations have come together a little bit more. It’s positive, or so my aides tell me. Something to build on for the future. That’s one of the major reasons we’re holding the joint memorial service.”
He hit more buttons and the TV turned off and the wall slid back into place. He put the remote down and leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee.
“Which brings us to today.”
“Yes sir.”
“All right. I think it’s now time for me to ask why you wanted to meet.”
“I know you’re a busy man so I’ll get right to it.” Herbert paused, but only for a moment. “Could you tell me where Agent Garchik is? And what happened to the evidence that went missing with him? Because I know you have the answers to both those questions.”
PRESIDENT BRENNAN AND OLIVER Herbert stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time. Herbert had engaged in such protracted battles of will before with people he considered his employers. The key was never to break eye contact. If you did they interpreted that as a sign of weakness and would pounce. They all had this skill; that was why they were in leadership positions.
“I beg your pardon?” the president said, but there was a slight hitch in his voice that was compelling in its disclosure of what the man was truly thinking.
Herbert didn’t answer. He just kept staring at the man, as though he could see the content of every synapse firing. Herbert had to convey through this silence that he knew everything, though some of it was only speculation.
He waited.
Brennan said nothing else, his gaze intensifying briefly, but then slowly the burn faded. He stood.
“Let’s take a walk, Herbert. I think we need to come to an understanding, and I need to stretch my legs.”
Herbert followed him outside after the president slipped on a jacket. The security detail accompanied them, keeping both men encircled at the center of a hard diamond formed by the Secret Service agents. The men and women of the security detail were dressed casually in deference to their boss’s clothes and the rustic surroundings.
The president spoke in a low voice as they made their way along a trail in the woods over which many past presidents had trod.
“Love it up here. Recharge. Forget my troubles, so to speak, at least for a little while.”
Herbert’s gaze drifted right and left and up ahead as the agents kept to their marks precisely. Camp David in truth was even better protected than the White House. It was in the middle of rugged terrain, and its perimeter defenders, a large detachment of highly trained Marines, would be able to see any adversary coming long in advance.
The president drew so close to Herbert that their elbows touched. Herbert automatically looked around to see if the Secret Service agents had an issue with that. However, since their boss had initiated the proximity, the security detail just kept trudging along.
“Herbert, we have a problem.”
“The debris. Do we know what it is yet?”
“Have you ever heard of nanobots?”
“Nanotechnology? I’ve read about it in the newspapers. That’s
about the extent of my knowledge.”
“Damnedest things. It’s already in our clothes, foods, cosmetics, appliances, lots of things. And most people have no idea it’s even there. Half the scientists think it’s perfectly safe. And the other half say we don’t know enough and it could have unforeseen and possibly disastrous long-term consequences.”
“So they found some of these nanobots in the debris? But I thought they were microscopic?”
“They are. They were only revealed after being put under the scope.”
“Why would they have been there? What would be the purpose in the context of a bomb?”
The president smiled resignedly. “There’s the rub, Herbert. We don’t know. What we think is that someone out there has come up with a new application that uses nanotechnology in ways that were never intended.”
“You mean for criminal or terrorism purposes?”
“Yes.”
“What are people speculating? I mean, for why the nanobots were there? There must be some theories.”
“There are. The most popular one is also the most chilling. That theory involves some sort of contagion being grafted onto the explosive. When the bomb exploded it released this contagion that is now in the system of everyone who’s been at that park. And they’ve unwittingly carried it on to others.”
Herbert flinched and moved away from the man. “I’ve been to that park. I was knocked over by the blast. I could be contaminated. You shouldn’t be near me.”
“I’ve already been exposed, Herbert. Through Agent Birdman, Garchik and others. Hell, the FBI director was out there too. But I can tell you that I’ve had every test known to the doctors and they’ve given me a clean bill of health.”
“Is there any evidence of the existence of such a contagion on the debris?”
“Not that we know. But you know what they’re telling me now? That the damn nanobots have the ability to invade and actually change certain molecular structures of other substances. This ‘transformation’ can leave the substances in their original form, but it can change them subtly enough to make identifying them much harder. So right now we don’t believe there’s a contagion problem, but the truth is we don’t know for certain. We’re not even sure what to test for. So all the things the doctors checked me for may be worthless. And furthermore, they could have used nanobots to produce a totally new contagion. It’s like my grandkids playing whack-a-mole. You hit at one hole and the damn thing shows up in another.”
“And Agent Garchik?” he said.
“We thought it best to remove him from the field for a while. He’s currently at an ATF safe house in—”
Herbert put up a hand. “I’d prefer not to know the exact location.”
“You mean?”
“In case someone tries to get it from me. Yes.”
“Dangerous times, Herbert. Uncertain times.”
“Enemies closer.”
“Right. If only we knew exactly who they were anymore. It’s getting harder and harder on that score.”
- Writer
