“So were Oppenheimer’s during the original Manhattan Project,” Coombs said. “That didn’t keep his loyalty from being compromised.”
“Before you indict Dr. Lee, I’d like to point out that I was the only one at Bonefish Key who knew the exact location of the lab. That information could have come from an outside source. What about the security company?”
Lieutenant Casey said, “The security people didn’t know what the lab was for, but they knew where it was. And they might not have been as tight-lipped as government operatives.”
The lieutenant had made no secret of his opposition to outsourcing the security arrangements for the lab to a civilian company.
“The use of civilian contractors has been widespread,” Coombs said, “especially since the Iraq War.”
“Where it was proven time after time that the government had limited oversight-and-control capabilities,” Casey said. “The taxpayers pay for a professional Navy, not a bunch of oceangoing cowboys.”
“You’re out of line, Lieutenant,” Coombs said. He had lost his cool demeanor, and his face was flushed with anger.
The lieutenant’s phone trilled, heading off a heated argument over the use of private warriors. He had a brief conversation with the caller and hung up.
“The ROV is on the lab site,” he announced with a cutting glance at Coombs. “It’s transmitting photos of the bottom.”
He rose from his chair and went over to a computer at one end of the table, which was connected to a PowerPoint setup. He clicked the mouse and an image of the ocean bottom appeared on the projection screen. There was no trace of the lab, no wreckage to suggest that the Locker had been destroyed.
“Are you sure you’ve got the correct location?” Coombs asked with irritation in his voice.
“Absolutely,” Casey said. “Look closer. You can see the big circular indentations in the sand. That’s where the lab’s support legs rested.”
“What’s this all mean?” Coombs demanded.
Casey gave him a bleak smile.
“Taking a wild guess, Mr. Coombs, I’d say this means that Davy Jones’s Locker has been hijacked.”
Kane still didn’t believe it.
“How could anything that big simply disappear?” he asked.
“You fellows figure out how this facility was hijacked under the nose of the U.S. Navy,” Coombs said. “I’m going to see that Dr. Kane does a similar vanishing act.”
Coombs raised his hand to cut Kane’s next question off, reached into his suit jacket for a cell phone, and hastily punched in a number.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said into the phone.
After a quick conversation, he hung up.
“You’re going to a safe house, Dr. Kane,” he announced.
When Kane protested, Coombs again cut him off.
“Sorry for the temporary inconvenience,” he said, “but someone wants you out of the picture. These attacks show that unauthorized people have found out about the lab even though we have gone to a great deal of trouble to keep it a secret. Even without the natural disaster you suggested, the political repercussions would be staggering if word of this research gets out.”
“I can’t see that happening,” Kane said. “Whoever tried to torpedo our research seems to like secrets too.”
“The difference is, we were prepared to go public once we had a vaccine,” Coombs said.
There was a quick knock at the door, and Jones stepped into the room. He was still wearing sunglasses. Kane felt as if he were being placed under house arrest. He said good-bye, then followed Jones out into the hall.
After Kane was gone, Coombs turned to the others.
“I’m going to recommend to the President that he prepare the country for a state of emergency,” he said. “We’ll contact the CDC and tell them this is the big one.”
“I’ll inform Vice President Sandecker directly,” Casey said. “He maintains contacts at NUMA and will enlist them in the search for the lab.”