Piranha (Oregon Files 10)

“That’s why I’m calling. As we’ve been driving back to the airport, Eric’s been studying the part of a thesis we recovered from the Berlin University library using his phone’s translation app. The thesis was written by Gunther Lutzen, the scientist who was aboard the Roraima. Now that Stoney’s had a chance to get a crude translation of some of the document, he thinks he knows how our security has been compromised.”

“And it’s okay to be discussing this on the phone? Kensit hasn’t cracked our encryption?”

“He doesn’t need to. Eric thinks Kensit has developed a neutrino telescope. At least that’s what Eric is calling it for now.”

Max frowned. He was an accomplished engineer and he’d never heard of such a thing. “How does looking at space help him eavesdrop on our plans?”

“Eric can explain all this better when we get back to the Oregon, but it has nothing to do with space. Lutzen developed revolutionary theories about how to detect subatomic particles. They were decades ahead of their time, and some of the equations in the thesis are so advanced even Stoney is having trouble understanding them. He believes Kensit used those equations to build a device that lets him see anywhere in the world.”

Now Max was really confused. “What do you mean ‘anywhere’?”

“I mean,” Juan said, “with this telescope, he could be looking at you right now and you’d never know it.”

Although he was fuming about the failures of the day, Lawrence Kensit couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched Max Hanley look warily around the op center as if he could spy a camera hidden in someone’s lapel. In fact, Juan Cabrillo was correct. There was absolutely no way for him to know that Kensit could see and hear everything Hanley was doing and saying. The control room on Kensit’s yacht was hundreds of miles away from the Oregon, being fed the signal from the Sentinel array buried deep underground.

Despite the focus on his larger goals, Kensit enjoyed the Peeping Tom aspect of his design, based on Gunther Lutzen’s work. With one giant observation screen, plus half a dozen smaller monitors and various keyboards, touch screens, and joysticks, Kensit could view anything he wanted anywhere in the world. It really was like he had a superpower and he felt like a god viewing his subjects from afar, ready to affect their lives at his pleasure or whim. Of course, he saw himself as a benevolent god, having humanity’s collective best interests in mind, but he could be wrathful when it was required for his grand design. The lesser beings didn’t need to understand why things happened the way they did. It was simply his will and they were his servants.

Before he brought Brian Washburn into his control room, he called Hector Bazin. As soon as the call went through, he read the GPS coordinates of the private jet just taking off from Berlin and fed them into the computer, which zoomed in until it found the right altitude for the plane and locked onto it to follow it. In an instant, he was looking at the interior of the cabin. Bazin was alone and answered the phone.

“Cabrillo got part of the thesis,” he said.

“I know,” Kensit replied, “I just heard him talking to the Oregon. What happened?”

Bazin recounted the chase through Berlin. Knowing that Kensit was watching, he began leafing through the portion of the thesis that he managed to save, giving Kensit an opportunity to see the pages.

Kensit nodded approvingly. “Good. At least he doesn’t have the most important equations. Now I’m the only person in the world who possesses all of the secrets of the neutrino telescope. Burn it as soon as you land.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your man Pasquet is dead.” He stated it matter-of-factly even though he knew Pasquet was Bazin’s closest friend. Kensit never understood why people insisted on soft-pedaling bad news.

Bazin looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. “How?”

“He failed to destroy the Roraima. I told him exactly how to proceed, but once they were underwater, I couldn’t communicate with them anymore to warn them. They didn’t anticipate the Oregon’s tactics. All of them were killed, and the Oregon may have managed to recover some of Lutzen’

s photo plates.”

“And if they discover where the Sentinel array is hidden?”

“That’s why I want you to go directly to Haiti. The next forty-eight hours are critical. Your objective is to protect Sentinel at all costs. Once our mission is finished, Sentinel is expendable and we can move on to Phase Two. Do you have enough men to defend it?”

Bazin nodded. “I have two dozen mercs left, and I can call in a favor from the Haitian National Police if it looks like we might be overrun by a larger force.”

“Excellent. Let me know once you’re at the bunker. After you’re there, no one else goes in or out until the mission is over, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kensit hung up, and called for Washburn to join him in the control room.

Washburn stepped inside and gawked at the technology that was beyond his comprehension.

“After showing you my operation in Haiti,” Kensit said, “I hope you realize that this is not a small operation. I have the money and resources to back up my efforts to make you president.”

Washburn rolled his eyes, then caught himself. “Yes, you’ve got impressive technology, although I have no idea where that cave is since you blindfolded me on the way there and back. I can’t pretend to know how any of the equipment in there works, but it looked expensive. The question is, so what? How is this going to help me get elected? Even if you make me vice president, there’s the primary and general election to get through. Being VP didn’t help Mondale or Gore.”

“True, but they didn’t have me. Since you will be dependent on me not only for the election but also when you’re president, I wanted to convince you that there is virtually no limit to my power.”

Kensit typed in some coordinates and the foyer of a mansion appeared on the big screen. Washburn frowned until he realized what he was looking at.