The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(38)
People were uncomfortable in Dr. Stephenson’s presence under the best of conditions, but here, in the heart of his lair, their discomfort became a physical thing. He hadn’t designed the room with that intention, merely selected furnishings and decor that felt right to him. The stifling effect it had on others he regarded as an unexpected and pleasurable side benefit.
The nerve of the man standing before his desk annoyed him to no end. Fred Smythe seemed completely oblivious to the oppressive atmosphere in the room and to Dr. Stephenson’s own overbearing personality. He just stood there patiently awaiting a response.
“No, Mr. Smythe, I will not return the airplane that your kids and the McFarland child made. It became classified the second it penetrated restricted airspace. I will not waste anyone’s time clearing its onboard memory just so your young hooligans can have it back.”
The deputy director moved over to retrieve the airplane from a closet in the far wall. It had a broken left wing but showed no other signs of damage.
“You know what I am going to do? I am going to put this right here on my memento shelf so that whenever I am tempted to relax my demanding nature, I can glance to my left and remind myself that security threats spring from everywhere, especially from the seemingly innocent. Now get out of my office and get back to work.”
With a curt nod of his head, Fred Smythe walked out of the deputy director's office, closing the door behind him.
Donald Stephenson leaned back in his chair and smiled. That felt really good. All in all, things were going very well.
Disposal of Abdul Aziz’s body had been completed in a manner that left no possibility that it would be found. It was too bad his agent wasn’t able to intercept the man before he had gained entrance to the Brownstein house. Once Aziz was already inside, it was too risky to attempt a rescue.
So he had opted, instead, to have his man wait until Aziz finished his work. After that, once the assassin was killed, everyone who might have overheard classified information would be dead. After listening to the Aziz digital recording, Stephenson was confident he had made the correct choice.
With that situation cleaned up, there was nothing to delay the release of cold fusion technology around the world. It was all so easy. Especially since, less than a hundred feet from where he now sat, on the short side of the L-shaped building, the second alien technology was well into its final round of prerelease testing. And thanks to a couple of unofficial volunteers, that testing had now extended beyond the laboratory confines.
As Donald Stephenson leaned all the way back in his chair, his fingers interlaced behind his head, the thinnest of smiles creased his lips.
Chapter 26
Whether it was the announced presence of the director of the Los Alamos National Laboratory or just because Mark had a pent-up reservoir of energy from the stress of the week, his performance on the Hilltoppers’ home court that Friday night was record shattering. By the time Roswell Goddard High School found themselves facing the LAHS second team, Mark had left the game to a standing ovation, having scored sixty-two of the team's ninety-three points.
The national sporting newswires were suddenly abuzz with the story, thanks to an AP reporter, in town covering the Rho Ship, who happened to attend the game. The keys of his BlackBerry almost caught fire as he relayed a game rundown to his best friend and famed ESPN sports reporter, Bobby Harold.
The story was also picked up by the National Inquisitor, a tabloid best known for its two-headed-baby stories. The lead story in their special Saturday edition screamed, “Alien Child of Rho Project Worker Scores 62.”
When Jennifer looked at Mark’s face staring up at her from the copy Heather bought at the grocery store, her eyes nearly popped from her head.
“Oh. This is just great.”
Heather leaned against the workbench in the Smythe’s garage. “Where is your alien brother, anyway?”
Jennifer shook her head. “His new cheerleader girlfriend picked him up an hour ago.”
Heather frowned. “Colleen 'All Cars' Johnson?”
“That’s the one. What does ‘All Cars’ mean?”
“That she’s never found a backseat she didn’t like.” Heather’s frown deepened. “What does Mark see in that girl? She’s older than him and gives blondes a bad name.”
“You have a way of answering your own questions.” Jennifer crumpled the news rag in her hands and tossed it at the trash can next to the garage door. It missed.
Heather didn’t know what it was that made her so angry when she thought of Mark out with Colleen. After all, he was free to make his own decisions. But someone so shallow? She was stunned.
“Well, don’t worry about Mark,” Jennifer said as she walked to the trash can and stuffed the wadded paper in. “The way the press is camping him now, there’s no way he can go anywhere near the ship. We’ll pack up the receiver equipment and take it out there ourselves.”
They had decided it was too risky to keep the equipment in the Smythe garage any longer. Instead, they opted to take a laptop, a tape drive, and the QT receiver unit and set them up on the ship. Power was a bit of a problem that they would have to resolve, but they had a plan for that.
They had a variety of photo-voltaic cells that would turn light into power, which they could then use to keep the batteries charged. Both Heather and Jennifer were confident they could have the ship focus light on the solar collectors in a way that would give them a sufficient power stream to keep everything running. It would just take a little work to configure it all. With that in mind, they packed a complete set of tools.