The Oracle Year(105)

“Major. What’s the status? If you’re using Sundown, I’m expecting good news,” Green said.

“Mr. President, this is the Oracle,” an all-too-familiar voice said. “I need a favor.”

The president’s grip tightened on his phone. He could feel its edges digging into his palm and fingers and wished he could squeeze the damn thing until it shattered.

“What makes you think I’d be interested in doing you any favors at all?”

“Because then I’d owe you one. And because it would make me much more willing to forget about the whole kidnapping thing in New York, and the fact that you tried to have me killed today.”

“Son, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Green said. “What I do know is that you’re not very good at keeping your promises. Why the hell you chose to release that prediction, to make a private matter so drastically public, I’ll never—”

“This is bigger than you,” the Oracle snapped. “You know what I’m capable of, as much as anyone can. Will you help me?”

The president looked back into the Situation Room. The chairman of the Joint Chiefs was pointing his index finger at the national security adviser, red-faced, indignant. The screens along walls displayed fifteen different versions of the next twenty-four hours—twelve of which resulted in the end of the world.

“What are you looking for?” Green said. “No promises. Just tell me what you want, and we’ll see.”

“I need to speak to T?r?kul,” the Oracle said.

The president spasmed out a sound—something between a chuckle and a groan.

“How the hell do you suppose that’ll work? Maybe you haven’t heard of the Sword of God. Catchy name, right? I should have him manage my campaign. Man has a gift for marketing.”

“I can stop that, Mr. President. I can keep him from launching that missile. You just need to get me in front of him,” the Oracle said.

“What makes you think I have that power?” Green asked.

“You’re the president of the United States,” the Oracle answered.

Green waited, but that appeared to be all Dando had to say on the matter.

Ordinarily, he enjoyed the average citizen’s belief that the president could do more or less anything he wanted, like some sort of wizard in a fantastic suit. The reality was significantly less impressive. But you couldn’t tell the Oracle that.

He looked at the screens mounted all around the room—twelve apocalypses, and the other options weren’t much prettier. He shifted his gaze across the faces of his advisers, all brilliant men and women, all with enormous power and experience, none of which was doing him a good goddamn. The only person offering him any sort of lifeline was, of course, the fucking Oracle.

“I can try to get word to his people,” Green said.

“Good,” the Oracle said. “Look, do this, play your role, and you can spin it so that it looks like you saved the world. I don’t care—I really don’t. But do it right, and it should help you get that second term, cancer or no cancer.”

“Will it?” Green said.

“What?” came the Oracle’s voice, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“Will I win?” the president asked.

A lengthy pause from the other end of the line.

“You will,” came the answer. “If you help me. How long will it take you to make contact with T?r?kul?”

The president exhaled loudly.

“No time at all,” Green said. “We know exactly where he is. We’ve got a Special Forces team out in the mountains keeping him under surveillance.”

“Wait, why?” the Oracle said. “If you know where he is, why don’t you just—”

“Because we can’t find the damn missile,” the president broke in. “The goddamn Sword. He’s got it hidden somewhere in the mountains, and his people have orders to launch it if T?r?kul is killed or captured.”

Another pause from the Oracle’s end of the phone.

“All right—the Special Forces team can get to him?” the Oracle said. “It’s important that someone conveys to T?r?kul that I just want to speak to him. He needs to know he’ll be released once we’re done.”

“Of course,” the president answered. “We don’t want any misunderstandings, believe me. I have Tony Leuchten on the ground there. You remember him?”

“Rings a bell,” the Oracle said, his tone bone-dry.

“I bet. He’ll get it done. What will you say to T?r?kul?”

“Wait and see,” the Oracle answered.

“Listen, you arrogant little . . .” the president began.

He took a breath.

“Ah, fuck it. When will you be ready?”

“Not long.”

“All right, I’ll give the orders. I’ll call this number when it’s all set up. You know what you’re doing?” the president said.

“Absolutely,” the Oracle answered.

The phone went dead.





Chapter 43




The Coach took back her phone without a word, her expression impressed, and full of questions she had apparently decided not to ask. For the moment.

Will looked out the window. The helicopter had just completed a steep climb up a mountain range, and as they crested the peak, a city came into view. It sprawled next to a deep blue lake, with a cluster of skyscrapers near the center and endless suburbs scattered across a broad plateau.