CHAPTER 7
Clocktower Station HQ
Jakarta, Indonesia
David peered at the black pipe through the narrow window of the blast shield. Turning the cap on the pipe had taken forever with the manually operated arm. But he had to look inside. It was the weight — the pipe was too light to be a bomb. Nails, buckshot, and bee-bees would weigh a lot more.
Finally, the end fell off, and David tipped the pipe to one side. A rolled up paper slid out. A thick, glossy page. A photo.
David unrolled it. It was a satellite image of an iceberg floating in a deep blue sea. In the center of the iceberg, there was an oblong black object. A submarine, sticking out of the ice. On the back, a message read:
________________________
Toba Protocol is real.
4+12+47 = 4/5; Jones
7+22+47 = 3/8; Anderson
10+4+47 = 5/4; Ames
________________________
David slipped the photo into a thick manila folder and walked over to the surveillance room. One of the two techs turned from the bank of screens. “No sign of him yet.”
“Anything from the airports?” David asked.
The man worked the keyboard, then looked up. “Yes, he landed a few minutes ago at Soekarno-Hatta. You want us to have him detained there?”
“No. I need him here. Just make sure they can’t see him on surveillance upstairs. I’ll take it from there.”