“Dr. Wilde! Mr. Chase!”
Eddie leaned out, regarding the new arrival cautiously. He was an air force colonel, carrying something in one hand: a satellite phone. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“Can I come down to you?”
Nina and Eddie traded bewildered glances. “Sure, why not?” Nina called out.
The colonel picked his way down the slope, almost slipping on some loose gravel at its foot, but managing to retain his footing and dignity as he reached them. It was clear from his disgusted expression that he didn’t want to be dealing with them at all, but was obeying orders from above. He held out the phone. “I’ve been told to give you this.”
Still confused, Nina accepted it. She held it to her ear, tilting it so Eddie could listen in. “Hello?”
“Dr. Wilde, hello,” said an unfamiliar voice. The accent was American, a refined New England baritone.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t know me—at least, not yet. But I think you’re aware of the organization I represent. I’m the chairman of the Group.”
Nina couldn’t help but be suspicious. “So … what do you want?”
“I want to talk to you. Both of you, in person. Since I’ve just saved your lives, I hope you’ll show your gratitude by agreeing to meet me.”
TWENTY-ONE
Washington, DC
Under the angry eyes of the troops from Silent Peak, Nina and Eddie were led to the helicopter, which flew them to Nellis Air Force Base northeast of Las Vegas. A jet waited for them, larger than the Lear; a C-37A, the US military’s version of the Gulfstream V business aircraft, luxuriously appointed as a VIP transport. They were accompanied by two air force officers, who like the colonel appeared displeased to have been assigned this particular escort duty. Once in flight, they sat at the cabin’s far end, occasionally shooting dirty glances toward the couple.
Since there was nothing else that could be done, Eddie chose to stretch out in a reclining seat and doze through the eastward flight. Nina regarded him jealously. She was too concerned for her racing mind to allow her to rest. What she had heard about the Group was apparently true. If they had enough influence to intervene in the internal security of the US military—quickly enough to halt an ongoing search-and-destroy operation—then they must have direct access to the very highest levels of the American government.
And they had used that power to save her and Eddie’s lives. She was grateful for that … but what price would be asked in return?
By the time the plane landed, night had fallen over the eastern seaboard. The two officers took them down the steps to the runway, where a limousine waited. Eddie peered inside. A man in a dark suit gestured for him to enter. “Come on in, Mr. Chase,” said the stranger. “Sit down. You too, Dr. Wilde. I won’t bite.”
“I might,” Eddie muttered, climbing in to sit facing him. Nina hesitantly took a place beside her husband.
The man in the backseat was in his sixties, tall and broad-shouldered in a way that suggested he had been an athlete in his youth. Despite his age, he was obviously still strong and in excellent health. His gray hair was slicked back from his prominent forehead, a pair of rectangular spectacles giving him a stern, patrician air. He had a downturned mouth that didn’t seem accustomed to smiling. “Welcome to Washington,” he said. “I’m glad to see you both alive and well.”
“I’d be gladder if I knew what the hell was going on,” said Eddie.
“Well, that’s what I’m going to tell you.” He pushed a button to speak to the driver. “Let’s go.” The limo set off, the Gulfstream retreating beyond the darkened rear window.
“Okay,” said Nina, “my first question is: Who are you?”
“My name is Travis Warden. You may have heard of me, or you may not. It depends how closely you read the financial pages.”
“They’re not really my thing,” she admitted.
“That’s true for most people. Which is why the histrionics aimed at the financial world over the past few years are ironic at best, and hypocritical at worst. Anyone taking the time and effort to analyze the data that was freely available would have seen that the boom before the economic crash was unsustainable. But”—he shrugged—“nobody wants to believe that the good times will ever stop rolling, so they fail to plan for the inevitable.” He gave his passengers a meaningful look. “Well, almost nobody.”
“You did make plans,” said Eddie.
“We did. By we, I mean the Group. It’s our business to plan for