The Olympus Device: Book Three (8 page)

When the president took the podium in the White House’s pressroom, it drew as much media fanfare and public attention as any natural disaster, victory in war, or attack on the homeland. America paused her daily routine to watch closely, intent on learning how the top elected official was going to address what had become a national topic of contention.

“My fellow Americans and citizens of the planet earth,” the Commander in Chief began. “As most of you know, a new technology has been discovered by one of our countrymen… a development that holds the promise of extraordinary benefit, as well as harboring the potential to destroy our world. When we in Washington first learned of Mr. Durham Weathers and his device, facts were in short supply, the situation confused and uncertain. The only absolute known at the time was the capability of Mr. Weather’s invention to cause extraordinary levels of destruction.”

The president paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing. “I ordered our brave law enforcement and military forces to apprehend both Mr. Weathers and what we considered to be a weapon of mass destruction. My cabinet consulted with Congressional leaders as well as judicial experts and concluded this was the best course of action to protect our citizens.”

The head of the free world tilted his head as if experiencing a moment of introspection before continuing his speech. “We now know more facts about both the invention and inventor. We have reason to believe that Mr. Weathers never had any intention of harming anyone. In fact, quite the opposite may be true, as his representatives have made it clear that his strongest desire is to see that his discovery isn’t weaponized. If accurate, this is indeed a noble cause.”

“Given this new information, I am hereby ordering all law enforcement agencies and offices to cease the nationwide manhunt currently underway. I have instructed the members of the Blue Ribbon Panel to meet in person with Mr. Weathers in hope of resolving all outstanding questions and issues. It is the stated purpose of this administration to leverage Mr. Weathers’ discovery for the benefit of all and to do so in a safe, controlled, methodical process. I’ll now answer a few questions.”

The room erupted with hands and voices, the president pointing to a New York Times reporter in the front row. “Mr. President, when and where will these meetings take place?”

“For now, at the request of various security advisors, we’re keeping that information out of the public domain. I can tell you that our discussions will begin soon and that I absolutely anticipate a resolution in short order.”

Another reporter was acknowledged. “Mr. President, in addition to the panel, who will be meeting with Mr. Weathers?”

“Again, for security purposes, it wouldn’t be prudent to divulge any specific personnel. I can say that the scientific and military communities will be well represented,” the chief executive responded.

“But sir, since this event may impact the lives of every single person on the planet, don’t the people have a right to know the entire story?”

Nodding with a smile, the president seemed to agree. “I was getting to that, Larry,” he chuckled. “In addition to government and academic representatives, the president will invite two randomly selected members of the press to attend the proceedings. Once we pull their names out of the hat, these reporters must adhere to a non-disclosure agreement until such time as any potential security issues have passed. We want to be transparent with this process, yet I’m sure everyone can understand the need to proceed with caution.”

Over a thousand miles to the west, Grace looked away from the television and grinned at Mitch. “With the press in attendance and those public statements, I feel a little bit better about Dusty walking away from this powwow a free man. It would be extremely difficult for the authorities to cause trouble now.”

Mitch wasn’t quite as sure. “Not impossible by any sense, but yes, difficult for sure. Still, I think we need to keep our eyes and ears open.”

“Always,” she whispered, remembering her time in jail. “Dusty’s little garage invention seems to turn the hearts and minds of men. I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t have let him throw it into Galveston Bay when he had the chance.”

“They would have dredged it up,” Mitch replied with a dismissive hand. “Like you said, the hearts and minds of men.”

Grace chanced one last glance into the rearview mirror, wanting to look her best for Dusty. It wasn’t vanity that motivated her desire, she told herself, brushing back a stray tress. No, it was her concern for his well-being. He’d appeared tired and worn down on the computer call, and she hoped a caring, friendly face would help bolster his spirits. She wanted to send a message, give him something to look forward to on the other side of what was sure to be a long and arduous process.

She caught Mitch staring at her, the look on the professor’s face one of curiosity. “I think you truly love my brother,” he ventured. “And I’m glad.”

Slightly embarrassed, she shrugged off his remark. “Love isn’t going to see us through all this,” she replied with a steady voice. “I want him to know bright, professional people are on his side. I want to instill confidence, and yes… admiration. He needs to know we care as much as he does. More than anything, Durham needs hope right now.”

Mitch didn’t buy the diversion, “Whatever. There’s a woman standing in front of me who is in love with my brother and wants to look her best. I see nothing wrong with that.”

For a brief moment, a rebuttal formed in her throat, but then she let it go.
Mitch would never make it as a lawyer
, she observed.
He wears his emotions like an uncomfortable suit.

They exited the rental car, stepping briskly toward the truck stop Dusty had indicated in his message. No sooner had they entered the front doors than Grace realized she was completely overdressed for the establishment. The scattering of rough-looking men inside reaffirmed her observation.

Ignoring the multitude of grunts, barely concealed gawking, and one outright wolf whistle, the attorney plowed past the rows of snack food, heading for the section that housed the restaurant.

When she spotted Dusty sitting in a nearby booth, she paused. So abruptly in fact, that Mitch couldn’t stop in time and bumped into her from behind. “Sorry,” he mumbled. But she didn’t hear the apology.

Grace’s legs were working again, any anxiety regarding her fading dignity long past. The last few steps into Dusty’s now-waiting arms were practically a sprint.

The couple embraced tightly, the tall, lanky Texan lifting her completely off the ground. Neither cared what the other diners thought of the display.

“Oh my God, I’ve missed you,” Dusty whispered. “More than anything… I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

“I know… I know,” she replied breathlessly. “I thought I might never hold you again.”

Several moments passed, Mitch standing uncomfortably by, obviously unsure of what to do with himself. Then, with almost as much passion, the two brothers were locked in an equally emotional embrace.

The two Weathers men eyed each other with a knowing gaze, simultaneously arriving at the same conclusion. “You look like shit,” they both announced at the same time, and then everyone was laughing.

If the waitress or anyone else knew what was inside the case Dusty always kept at his side, they didn’t let on. Grace, however, couldn’t take her eyes off of the thing that had caused such trauma in all of their lives. While the apron-clad woman jotted down their orders for coffee, toast, and eggs, the attorney’s stare bore into the enclosed rail gun, almost as if its proximity were a harbinger of doom and gloom.

“I should have let you destroy that thing when we had the chance,” she stated, trying her best to eliminate the venom from her voice, but failing miserably.

The kindness never faded from Dusty’s expression. He understood, having already experienced the same internal debate a thousand times. “It’s only a
thing
, Grace, hunks of metal and wire. If all this drama works out as we hope, the struggle will all have been worth it. If not, I can still throw this
thing
into a trash truck. We’ll cheer while the workers crush it into scrap.”

Mitch, not having been part of previous conversations, was puzzled and concerned. “What? Why are you two talking about destroying the rail gun? You can’t do that… not when we’re so close… not after what we’ve been through.”

“Relax, Mitch,” Dusty said. “It’s a sort of a running joke between Grace and me. We seem to take turns planning the demise of the rail gun. I wonder what the president would say if I showed up at the meeting and said, ‘Sorry guys, but the deal is off. I fed the pesky thing to a rather hungry looking alligator in the marsh off Galveston Bay.’”

The thought caused Grace to smile while a frown donned Mitch’s face. “I still don’t get it. Why would anyone want to destroy such an important discovery? I know you’ve both been through a lot… hell, we all have. From a historical perspective, great inventions and inventors have often had a tough road to travel though. You should consider yourself in good company, brother.”

“Oh yeah, I see what you mean,” Grace grunted, her voice saturated with an overtone of sarcasm. “You know, Madam Curie co-discovered radiation and then later died of prolonged exposure to her own invention. Now there is something to aspire to, right?”

“Yeah,” Dusty added with a grimace, “Francis Stanley was killed while driving a Stanley Steamer automobile. So I guess I should be looking at the bright side. If the feds shoot me on sight, I’ll go down in history with other brilliant, but dead-before-their-time inventors.”

Mitch waved them both off, “That’s not what I meant, and you both know it. History is rife with great inventions that weren’t accepted at first. A year from now, we’ll all look back at this and laugh… or at least smile… I hope.”

“Can I just have my ranch back?” Dusty asked, not really expecting an answer. “There really is no place like home, ya know?”

“At least you’re going to get to fly today again,” Grace interrupted, trying to intercede before a skirmish broke out between the brothers.

“So it’s all set with the rent-a-place?” Dusty asked.

“Yes,” replied Mitch, relieved the subject had been changed. “The airport is about an hour’s drive from here. I reserved one of the Cessnas from the list you provided. I had no idea you were so well schooled on all the nuances of so many different planes.”

Dusty shrugged. “When I started the crop dusting business, I didn’t have a lot of customers at first. For a while, I was taking all the stick time I could get, thinking I might have to find work as a corporate pilot. It will be good to fly again. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“We’ll see if we can get the FBI to return your Thrush when this is all over,” Grace added. “I’m sure it’s still locked up in a hangar down in Houston.”

Dusty shifted in the booth’s seat, folding his arms across his chest while exhaling a satisfied sigh, a far off twinkle in his eye and a slight smile on his lips. “Just picturing myself buzzing the jackalopes over my own ranch,” Dusty mused. “Now that would cheer me up to no end.”

The string of black SUVs rolling across the tarmac made Dusty’s heart race, his mind battling the urge to turn and run. Grace’s presence at his side bolstered the Texan’s confidence somewhat, but he could tell she was on edge as well.

The agreed upon meeting place was a small regional airport east of St. Louis on the Illinois side of the river. The government had negotiated for a location where they could provide security and keep the prying eyes of uninvited reporters away. Ease of air travel had been another critical requirement.

The newly renovated executive airport met all of the criteria. It was close enough to a major metropolitan area to provide any ancillary services, including first-class lodging… should the proceedings extend into the late hours. With a state of the art conference room, high levels of private security, and a wealth of communications capabilities, the small facility seemed to be the perfect fit. In addition, its central location made it convenient for the government’s experts to fly in from all over the nation.

Mitch now replaced his brother as the man in hiding, keeping the rail gun at his side while maintaining a safe distance from the proceedings. He was also an insurance policy of sorts.

Dusty and Grace didn’t trust the government, or more accurately, the couple had little faith in the hearts of men. While both had thought it best not to bring the weapon into the conference room, the older Weathers had taken the precautions a step further.

“We insisted on having a man in the control tower,” Dusty announced. “That is going to be you, Mitch. Take the rail gun along. From up there, you can see St. Louis and the bridges crossing the Mississippi. If they try any shenanigans, we’ll threaten to drop a span or two… maybe the arch. I’m sure they’ll see things our way.”

At first, Mitch thought it was a bad joke, but it soon became apparent his older brother was absolutely serious. “We need an ace up our sleeve,” Dusty had insisted. “A card to play if things get rough. If they try any shit, drop a railroad bridge. In another ten minutes, level something more valuable. Keep on going until either they let us go or kill you. It’s our only option.”

Now, with a steaming cup of brew sitting right next to the world’s most powerful weapon, Mitch wasn’t so sure he could execute Dusty’s wishes. He was a scientist, not a killer. And while the first target of a railroad crossing might not cause any deaths, the professor realized that eventually his wrecking of the riverside city would result in causalities. Eventually his own.

As usual, Dusty’s forethought had been sage. The control tower’s elevated perch allowed for the best view of the entire facility, thus making it difficult for any assault teams or snipers to stalk around the area. If airborne assets were going to be part of any betrayal, the newly installed, high-tech radar system would make their approach difficult. While Mitch was confident the government would eventually apprehend them, they wouldn’t make it easy.

Like his two counterparts, Mitch studied the line of federal SUVs crossing the concrete expanse. He’d watched nervously as the two Air Force executive transports landed a short time ago, right on schedule. Rather than assault teams in full combat regalia, men in business suits had emerged from the two jet aircraft.

Grace reached for Dusty’s hand as the first vehicle stopped a short distance away and began unloading its passengers. She recognized Dr. Witherspoon, the Department of Energy Secretary, and sighed her own breath of relief.

Fifteen minutes later, with introductions and handshakes out of the way, the two parties began taking their assigned seats around a large conference table.

It was an odd assortment facing the couple from Texas, a dozen influential men and women sitting across the table. The whole thing appeared so one-sided, it reminded Grace of the Biblical David versus Goliath. Leaning close to Dusty, she whispered, “David won.”

But Dusty seemed to not hear her remark, absorbed in thought. Instead, he turned and asked, “How many people are supposed to be here from their side?”

“I don’t know… 11, I think.”

“Why did only nine show up?” the Texan inquired.

Grace understood his nervousness. “I think Mitch kept the list in his briefcase. Maybe he knows for sure.”

As he watched the government representatives slowly take their seats, Dusty dialed Mitch’s cell phone. “Everything okay,” the nervous professor answered.

“I don’t know for sure. How many people are supposed to be attending on their side?”

“I think it was 11. Hold on a second, let me dig out the list.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s get started,” the Secretary of Energy began. “Mr. Weathers, would you be so kind as to restate your demands? I think hearing them in your own words would help all of us gain a better understanding and help expedite this entire process.”

Dusty pulled the phone away from his ear, looking like a daydreaming schoolboy called out of his cloud by a teacher’s question. He glanced around the table, trying to think, and then remembered he was still holding the cell phone. “I’ll call you back in a bit, Mitch,” he whispered. “We’re getting started.”

The Texan disconnected the call, and then mouthed the word “sorry” to the Secretary.

The opening question, combined with the meeting’s sudden start, threw Dusty off guard. He recovered quickly, the tone of his response firm, yet sincere. “I have no demands, sir. As far as I’m concerned, if the federal government hadn’t come after me like a pack of hellhounds, I’d still be at my ranch trying to figure out what to do with my invention. I’ve never made any demands.”