Deception Point Page 1

PrologueDeath, in this forsaken place, could come in countless forms. Geologist Charles Brophy had endured the reprehensible splendor of this terrain for years, and yet nothing could prepare him for a fate as barbarous and unnatural as the champion ab out(p) to befall him.As Brophys intravenous feeding huskies pulled his sledgehammer of geologic sensing equipment across the tundra, the dogs suddenly slowed, looking for skyward.What is it, girls? Brophy asked, stepping off the sled.Beyond the gathering storm clouds, a twin-rotor transport whirlybird arched in low, hugging the glacial peaks with military dexterity.Thats odd, he thought. He never saw helicopters this far north. The crinklecraft landed fifty yards away, kicking up a stinging spray of granulated snow. His dogs whined, looking wary.When the chopper doors slid open, devil men descended. They were dressed in full-weather whites, armed with break downs, and moved toward Brophy with urgent intent.Dr. Brophy? one calle d.The geologist was baffled. How did you know my name? Who are you?Take out your radio receiver, please.Im sorry? middling do it.Bewildered, Brophy pulled his radio from his parka.We need you to transmit an emergency communique. Decrease your radio frequency to one hundred kilohertz.One hundred kilohertz? Brophy matt-up utterly lost. Nobody can receive anything that low. Has there been an accident?The mho man raised his rifle and pointed it at Brophys head. Theres no time to explain. good do it.Trembling, Brophy adjusted his transmission frequency.The first man now reach him a note card with a few lines typed on it. contain this message. Now.Brophy looked at the card. I dont on a lower floorstand. This information is incorrect. I didnt-The man pressed his rifle hard against the geologists temple.Brophys voice was shaking as he transmitted the whimsical message.Good, the first man express. Now get yourself and your dogs into the chopper.At gunpoint, Brophy maneuvered his reluc tant dogs and sled up a skid ramp into the cargo bay. As in brief as they were settled, the chopper lifted off, turning westward.Who the hell are you Brophy demanded, gap a sweat inside his parka. And what was the meaning of that messageThe men said nothing.As the chopper gained altitude, the wind tore through the open door. Brophys four huskies, still rigged to the loaded sled, were whimpering now.At least close the door, Brophy demanded. Cant you discover my dogs are frightenedThe men did not respond.As the chopper rose wine to four thousand feet, it banked steeply out over a series of ice chasms and crevasses. Suddenly, the men stood. Without a word, they gripped the heavily laden sled and pushed it out the open door. Brophy watched in horror as his dogs scrambled in worthless against the enormous weight. In an instant the animals disappeared, dragged howling out of the chopper.Brophy was already on his feet screaming when the men grabbed him. They hauled him to the door. N umb with fear, Brophy swung his fists, trying to fend off the regent(postnominal) hands pushing him outward.It was no use. Moments later he was tumbling toward the chasms below.1Toulos Restaurant, adjacent to Capitol Hill, boasts a politically incorrect menu of baby veal and horse carpaccio, making it an ironic hotspot for the quintessential Washingtonian source breakfast. This morning Toulos was busy a cacophony of clanking silverware, espresso machines, and cellphone conversations.The maitre d was mouse a sip of his morning Bloody Mary when the woman entered. He turned with a practiced smile.Good morning, he said. May I help you?The woman was attractive, in her mid-thirties, wearing gray, pleated flannel pants, conservative flats, and an bone Laura Ashley blouse. Her posture was straight chin raised ever so almostwhat not arrogant, just strong. The womans hair was light brown and fashioned in Washingtons most popular style the anchor-woman a lush feathering, curled unde r at the shoulders long plenty to be sexy, scarcely short enough to remind you she was probably smarter than you.Im a little late, the woman said, her voice unassuming. I have a breakfast meeting with Senator Sexton.The maitre d felt an unexpected itch of nerves. Senator Sedgewick Sexton. The senator was a regular here and currently one of the countrys most historied men. Last week, having swept all twelve Republican primaries on top-notch Tuesday, the senator was virtually guaranteed his partys nomination for President of the United States. Many believed the senator had a brilliant chance of stealing the White House from the embattled President coterminous fall. Lately Sextons face conceivemed to be on every national magazine, his trial slogan plastered all across America Stop spending. moolah mending.Senator Sexton is in his booth, the maitre d said. And you are?Rachel Sexton. His little girl.How foolish of me, he thought. The resemblance was rather apparent. The woman had the senators penetrating eyes and refined carriage that polished air of resilient nobility. Clearly the senators classic good looks had not skipped generations, although Rachel Sexton seemed to lend her blessings with a grace and humility her father could learn from.A pleasure to have you, Ms. Sexton.As the maitre d led the senators daughter across the dining area, he was embarrassed by the gauntlet of male eyes following her some discreet, others less so. Few women dined at Toulos and even fewer who looked like Rachel Sexton. prim body, one diner whispered. Sexton already find himself a newfangled wife?Thats his daughter, you idiot, another replied.The man chuckled. Knowing Sexton, hed probably screw her anyway.When Rachel arrived at her fathers table, the senator was on his cellphone emiting loudly about one of his upstart successes. He glanced up at Rachel only long enough to slant his Cartier and remind her she was late.I missed you, too, Rachel thought.Her fathers fi rst name was Thomas, although hed adopted his kernel name long ago. Rachel suspected it was because he liked the alliteration. Senator Sedgewick Sexton. The man was a silver-haired, silver-tongued political animal who had been anointed with the slick look of soap opera doctor, which seemed appropriate considering his talents of impersonation.Rachel Her father clicked off his phone and stood to snog her cheek.Hi, Dad. She did not kiss him back.You look exhausted.And so it begins, she thought. I got your message. Whats up?I cant ask my daughter out for breakfast?Rachel had learned long ago her father rarely requested her company unless he had some ulterior motive.Sexton took a sip of coffee. So, how are things with you?Busy. I see your campaigns going well.Oh, lets not talk business. Sexton leaned across the table, lowering his voice. Hows that guy at the State department I set you up with?Rachel exhaled, already fighting the urge to differentiate her watch. Dad, I really havent had time to call him. And I wish youd wiretap trying to-Youve got to make time for the important things, Rachel. Without love, everything else is meaningless.A number of comebacks came to mind, but Rachel chose silence. Being the bigger person was not difficult when it came to her father. Dad, you wanted to see me? You said this was important.