In the silence, Sexton could hear the defining moment of his career.
The meteorite is a fraud. And I am the man who revealed it.
Sexton knew it would take the press a moment to understand the true implications of what they were looking at: GPR images of an insertion shaft in the ice; a living ocean species almost identical to the NASA fossils; evidence of chondrules that formed on earth. It all led to one shocking conclusion.
"Sir?" one reporter stammered, sounding stunned as he looked in his envelope. "Is this for real?"
Sexton gave a somber sigh. "Yes, I'm afraid it's very real indeed."
Murmurs of confusion now spread through the crowd.
"I'll give everyone a moment to look through these pages," Sexton said, "and then I'll take questions and attempt to shed some light on what you're looking at."
"Senator?" another reporter asked, sounding utterly bewildered. "Are these images authentic?... Unretouched?"
"One hundred percent," Sexton said, speaking more firmly now. "I would not present the evidence to you otherwise."
The confusion in the crowd seemed to deepen, and Sexton thought he even heard some laughter-not at all the reaction he had expected. He was starting to fear he had overestimated the media's ability to connect the obvious dots.
"Um, senator?" someone said, sounding oddly amused. "For the record, you stand behind the authenticity of these images?"
Sexton was getting frustrated. "My friends, I will say this one last time, the evidence in your hands is one-hundred-percent accurate. And if anyone can prove otherwise, I'll eat my hat!"
Sexton waited for the laugh, but it never came.
Dead silence. Blank stares.
The reporter who had just spoken walked toward Sexton, shuffling through his photocopies as he came forward. "You're right, senator. This is scandalous data." The reporter paused, scratching his head. "So I guess we're puzzled as to why you've decided to share it with us like this, especially after denying it so vehemently earlier."
Sexton had no idea what the man was talking about. The reporter handed him the photocopies. Sexton looked at the pages-and for a moment, his mind went totally blank.
No words came.
He was staring at unfamiliar photographs. Black-and-white images. Two people. Naked. Arms and legs intertwined. For an instant, Sexton had no idea what he was looking at. Then it registered. A cannonball to the gut.
In horror, Sexton's head snapped up to the crowd. They were laughing now. Half of them were already phoning in the story to their news desks.
Sexton felt a tap on his shoulder.
In a daze, he wheeled.
Rachel was standing there. "We tried to stop you," she said. "We gave you every chance." A woman stood beside her.
Sexton was trembling as his eyes moved to the woman at Rachel's side. She was the reporter in the cashmere coat and mohair beret-the woman who had knocked over his envelopes. Sexton saw her face, and his blood turned to ice.
Gabrielle's dark eyes seemed to bore right through him as she reached down and opened her coat to reveal a stack of white envelopes tucked neatly beneath her arm.
132
The Oval Office was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the brass lamp on President Herney's desk. Gabrielle Ashe held her chin high as she stood before the President. Outside the window behind him, dusk was gathering on the west lawn.
"I hear you're leaving us," Herney said, sounding disappointed.
Gabrielle nodded. Although the President had graciously offered her indefinite sanctuary inside the White House away from the press, Gabrielle preferred not to ride out this particular storm by hiding out in the eye. She wanted to be as far away as possible. At least for a while.
Herney gazed across his desk at her, looking impressed. "The choice you made this morning, Gabrielle... " He paused, as if at a loss for words. His eyes were simple and clear-nothing compared to the deep, enigmatic pools that had once drawn Gabrielle to Sedgewick Sexton. And yet, even in the backdrop of this powerful place, Gabrielle saw true kindness in his gaze, an honor and dignity she would not soon forget.
"I did it for me, too," Gabrielle finally said.
Herney nodded. "I owe you my thanks all the same." He stood, motioning for her to follow him into the hall. "I was actually hoping you'd stick around long enough that I could offer you a post on my budgeting staff."
Gabrielle gave him a dubious look. "Stop spending and start mending?"
He chuckled. "Something like that."
"I think we both know, sir, that I'm more of a liability to you at