Chapter 90
When Jonathan Riles passed through security and pulled his car into the White House parking lot, one of the junior White House aides, a prematurely graying man in his early forties, met him and offered to carry his briefcase. When Jonathan declined the offer, the aide nodded and led the way into the White House.
That briefcase was not going to be leaving the NSA director’s hands until he opened it in the office to which he was headed. Riles had no doubt that he now had enough information to bring high-level scrutiny to the top-secret, compartmentalized activities that Dr. Stephenson was conducting under the umbrella of Rho Project research. He could certainly put the clamps on the overly aggressive research into alien nanotechnology.
Riles smiled to himself as he walked. Normally, it would have taken even a man in his position considerably longer to line up the appointment at the White House. After all, the White House schedule was done up well in advance, and any changes to that schedule affected travel plans, appearance schedules, even the schedules of meetings with foreign leaders. You just didn’t get an off-the-cuff meeting, no matter how important the topic.
It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. The old saying held a power that went beyond what it implied. They had been best friends since they had been roommates at Annapolis, since they had been stars on the Navy football team. It was funny how he had made vice admiral while his oldest friend had just made it to navy captain, only to have his buddy bypass him in rank once he transitioned to civilian life.
The door opened to admit him, and Riles extended his hand, a grip that his old friend met heartily.
Riles smiled as his old roommate ushered him into the office, dismissing the aide in the process.
“Good of you to see me on such short notice.”
“Jon boy, you know I’d see you anytime, even if you hadn’t said it was so important. Now show me what you’ve got.”
Jonathan Riles flipped open his briefcase, spreading the pages of the report out along the small table in a fashion that made it easy to illustrate the report’s content. For the next hour, Riles ran through what he had hard proof of and what, at this point, he could only speculate on. The only thing intentionally omitted was any mention of Jack Gregory’s team. After all, it was just as important as ever to provide the president and his key staff deniability in that area.
At the end of the briefing, he paused for comment.
“Jon, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m glad you brought this directly to me. I’d like you to keep it that way, just between the two of us, until I get a chance to brief the president when he gets back from Europe tomorrow. Then I’ll bring you in to see him.”
“George, you know you can always count on my natural proclivity for silence.”
“Good. Just leave all this stuff here. I look forward to getting you in to brief the president tomorrow.”
Vice President Gordon rose from his seat, walked Riles to the door, and shook his hand once again. As the door closed behind his old friend, the vice president turned back to the table, walked to the Secure Telephone Unit, and dialed a rapid sequence of numbers into the STU.
“Yes?” The familiar voice on the phone was as cold as a January morning.
Vice President Gordon ran his fingers over the thick folder. “Riles knows too much.”
A slight hesitation at the far end of the line preceded the response. “You want me to activate the Columbian?”
“He’s left us no choice.”
The soft intake of breath barely rose above the encrypted circuit noise. “You’re the boss.”
As Vice President Gordon broke the secure connection, he stared down at the report on his desk. He was sorry his old friend had to dig this up. But then, Jon boy always was too smart for his own good.
Author???s Note:
I want to thank you for purchasing The Second Ship. Please tell your friends about this first novel in my Rho Agenda Series; it always helps to have my loyal fans spreading the word. I encourage you to visit my web site for excerpts and Rho Agenda news: SecondShip.com
Watch for other books by Richard Phillips
Immune - Book Two of The Rho Agenda
Wormhole - Book Three of The Rho Agenda
Author Bio
Born in Roswell, New Mexico in 1956, Richard Phillips graduated from West Point in 1979, trained as an Army Ranger and served for several years as an officer in the United States Army. In 1989, he graduated with a Master of Science degree in Physics from the Naval Post Graduate School, completing his thesis work at Los Alamos National Laboratory. He then spent three years as a Research Associate at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, before completing his tour of duty as an Army Officer. He now lives in Phoenix, with his lovely wife, Carol.