Page 18 of The Presidents Shadow

I MUST CONTROL my feelings. I must deal with the ache inside me. Yes, nothing will ever be the same after Jericho’s death. But we must move forward. There is work to be done.

I’ve called together the team, a group of my bravest and most trusted associates.

Or what’s left of them.

We had only just started to make peace with the death of Moe Shrevnitz, whom we lost not long ago in our battle against the Destroyer of Worlds. Today, with Jericho gone, we’re yet another man short.

But Burbank, Tapper, and Hawkeye are still a formidable trio. And they’ll have to do.

“Welcome,” I say, to formally begin the meeting.

“The recent past has delivered a series of mighty blows, with the loss of two of our dear colleagues. But the world situation has never before been so horrifying. We must become involved. If I may invoke a cliché—that’s exactly what Moe and Jericho would want us to do. Let’s get down to business.”

All three of them nod.

“I’ll begin with the question that still has no answer: what is the connection between the earthquake disaster in Kyoto and the tidal wave in Copenhagen?”

Hawkeye speaks. “Sir, I have, if you will, a question about the question.”

I know what Hawkeye’s about to ask. It’s going to be smart and sensible, just like Hawkeye himself.

“And your question is?”

“How do we even know that there is a connection?” he asks.

“We don’t,” says Burbank, jumping in. “But we’ve got to start somewhere.”

I nod. “Your question was a smart one, Hawkeye, and Burbank’s answer is equally smart. But whatever the situation, we must start from somewhere, and I don’t think it’s an irrational conclusion to draw.”

“May I use the screen, sir?” says Tapper.

“Of course,” I say. The flat screen behind me lights up in response to the voice command in Tapper’s question.

“If you will, gentlemen,” Tapper says as he presses a side button on his handheld. The screen fills with words.

“This is a complete listing,” he explains, “of everyone who received an invitation and actually attended the Oberon Awards. You’ll see the list is impressive, lots of big deals.

It includes everyone from King Victor and Princess Martha of Denmark to a large number of award-winning university professors, media celebrities, artists, and authors, not to mention international news reporters and twenty-three foreign ambassadors, including one who was appointed a special envoy by President Townsend only two days before the awards ceremony.

“Everyone on this list has been vetted by confidential computer algorithms, and even the special envoy, Karen Wallace, a sixty-year-old woman and former CEO of Allied Development Medical Supplies, comes with a clean slate—”

A new list appears. This one, he explains, is a catalog of all victims of the Kyoto quake, all injured survivors, all university personnel who were at their nearby jobs on campus that day.

Of the predictably mostly Japanese names, I recognize only two: a husband-and-wife team who previously assisted me in a scientific germ warfare study.

Tapper confirms that these names have also been thoroughly vetted.

“With all due respect, Tapper… what have we got? Nothing,” says Hawkeye. “A bunch of heroes, a bunch of geniuses. We’re looking for evil scum and all we’ve got is a list of saints.”

“Connections,” Tapper replies. “Let’s look for connections.”

“Kyoto was an academic setting,” volunteers Burbank. “Copenhagen was essentially an academic setting, too, with its awards for peace initiatives and medical cures and general do-good stuff, but brainy stuff. Now, that’s a connection.”

“Can we break this down by country of origin and full background information of every person at the events?” Hawkeye asks.

Tapper presses the other side of his handheld device, and suddenly the screen is filled with pages and pages of documents.

“I’ve done the work already,” he says, very smug and proud of himself.

“Okay,” I say. “I don’t know if this is a good start, but at least it’s a start. I want everyone to explore these documents. Any insight, no matter how far-fetched, may turn out to be helpful. The other thing to tuck in the back of your brain is this: what in hell will these monsters do next?”

I tell them that we will reconvene in five hours… and I hope nothing earth-shattering happens before then.