The Oracle Year, page 32
Green waited, but that appeared to be all Dando had to say on the matter.
Ordinarily, he enjoyed the average citizen’s belief that the president could do more or less anything he wanted, like some sort of wizard in a fantastic suit. The reality was significantly less impressive. But you couldn’t tell the Oracle that.
He looked at the screens mounted all around the room—twelve apocalypses, and the other options weren’t much prettier. He shifted his gaze across the faces of his advisers, all brilliant men and women, all with enormous power and experience, none of which was doing him a good goddamn. The only person offering him any sort of lifeline was, of course, the fucking Oracle.
“I can try to get word to his people,” Green said.
“Good,” the Oracle said. “Look, do this, play your role, and you can spin it so that it looks like you saved the world. I don’t care—I really don’t. But do it right, and it should help you get that second term, cancer or no cancer.”
“Will it?” Green said.
“What?” came the Oracle’s voice, sounding genuinely puzzled.
“Will I win?” the president asked.
A lengthy pause from the other end of the line.
“You will,” came the answer. “If you help me. How long will it take you to make contact with Törökul?”
The president exhaled loudly.
“No time at all,” Green said. “We know exactly where he is. We’ve got a Special Forces team out in the mountains keeping him under surveillance.”
“Wait, why?” the Oracle said. “If you know where he is, why don’t you just—”
“Because we can’t find the damn missile,” the president broke in. “The goddamn Sword. He’s got it hidden somewhere in the mountains, and his people have orders to launch it if Törökul is killed or captured.”
Another pause from the Oracle’s end of the phone.
“All right—the Special Forces team can get to him?” the Oracle said. “It’s important that someone conveys to Törökul that I just want to speak to him. He needs to know he’ll be released once we’re done.”
“Of course,” the president answered. “We don’t want any misunderstandings, believe me. I have Tony Leuchten on the ground there. You remember him?”
“Rings a bell,” the Oracle said, his tone bone-dry.
“I bet. He’ll get it done. What will you say to Törökul?”
“Wait and see,” the Oracle answered.
“Listen, you arrogant little . . .” the president began.
He took a breath.
“Ah, fuck it. When will you be ready?”
“Not long.”
“All right, I’ll give the orders. I’ll call this number when it’s all set up. You know what you’re doing?” the president said.
“Absolutely,” the Oracle answered.
The phone went dead.
Chapter 43
The Coach took back her phone without a word, her expression impressed, and full of questions she had apparently decided not to ask. For the moment.
Will looked out the window. The helicopter had just completed a steep climb up a mountain range, and as they crested the peak, a city came into view. It sprawled next to a deep blue lake, with a cluster of skyscrapers near the center and endless suburbs scattered across a broad plateau.
Will was doing his best to ignore Grunfeld. The man had his pistol resting lightly on one leg, pointed roughly in Will’s direction. His finger wasn’t on the trigger, but Will had absolutely no illusions that he had any chance of getting his hands on that gun.
“Is that it?” Will asked, nodding toward the window.
“That’s it. Denver,” the Coach answered. She made a show of pulling up her sleeve to look at her watch, a slim-banded, elegant thing. “This will all be very public. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Will said.
Across the cabin, Leigh was in the far seat against the window, surrounded by three of the Coach’s men. She had her arms crossed, staring straight ahead, boring a hole through the chest of the mercenary seated opposite. She looked tiny in comparison to her guards, but all attitude, all defiance.
Will’s confidence faltered a few degrees. If he was wrong . . . But no. It was too right.
And if it wasn’t, then he and Leigh would both be dead, and there was never anything he could have done about it. Not at any single point since the day he was born.
“All right, Denver. Time to get a bit more specific about your plan, Mr. Oracle,” the Coach said.
“Hold on,” Will said. “Just give me a minute.”
“Sure thing. How about this. You’ve got twenty minutes to show me something before I call this whole thing a bad investment and shove you both out the door over the Rockies. Take your time.”
Will swallowed.
“Leigh,” he said. “I need your help.”
Leigh blinked. She turned. She’d been all but comatose for the ride thus far, but seemed to dial herself back to life at the sound of Will’s voice. She flashed him a quick, faint smile.
“Shoot,” she said.
“I need the biggest TV station in Denver,” Will said.
Leigh raised an eyebrow.
“Okay . . .” she said. “You want KUSA. They’re the NBC affiliate.”
“Do you know where they’re located in the city?”
“They have a headquarters building just outside downtown. It’s this weird round-looking thing.”
“Could you recognize it from the air?”
“I think so,” Leigh said. “It’s just up the road from the Denver Country Club. Find that and I’m sure I could spot it.”
“They’ll have some sort of satellite linkup, right? A way to get footage out beyond Denver?”
“Of course. Even the smallest local stations can do that. But why do you need a TV station, Will?”
Will gave Leigh a placating gesture and turned back to the Coach.
“Tell your pilot to look for the country club. A golf course. Leigh will direct him from there. And I need you to make a call for me.”
The Coach tossed her phone to Grunfeld.
“Eighteen minutes,” she said. “Use them well.”
Will turned to Grunfeld.
“Dial information,” Will told the man. “Get . . . what was the station, Leigh?”
“KUSA,” she said.
“Right. Ask for their direct line, then call them and tell them that you’ve got the Oracle, he wants to make a statement, and he’ll be landing on their roof in ten minutes.”
The Coach reached out and put her hand on Grunfeld’s forearm, keeping him from lifting the phone.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Do it,” Will said.
The Coach leaned forward.
“Will, you’ve clearly decided I’m an idiot, which surprises me. If there’s anything you should have learned from our time together, it is that I am exactly the opposite of an idiot. I said I’ll help you, but I’m not letting you out of my hands, and I’m sure as hell not letting you near any television cameras.”
“Listen,” Will said, keeping his tone level, “it has to be this way. I have to get in front of a camera. There’s no other way to do it.”
“Nope,” the Coach said. “I won’t be able to keep you under control if you’ve got an audience. Find another way.”
Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them and gave the Coach what he hoped was a look of the utmost sincerity.
“Here’s how we do it,” he said. “You guys stay in the helicopter. Let me outside just for five minutes to say what I have to say, and then I’ll get back in here and go with you. You can do what you want with me. You have my word, as long as you let Leigh go. You don’t need her.”
“Will!” Leigh said, horrified.
“It’s okay, Leigh,” Will said, although he kept his eyes on the Coach’s face.
She leaned back in her seat, thinking.
“Your word,” she said. “What’s that worth? I don’t know you, and I’ve been threatening to kill you for the last few hours. Why would you keep your promise to me?”
“Because of her,” Will said, pointing across the cabin at Leigh.
The Coach’s head turned slowly, following Will’s gesture. She looked at Leigh for a long moment, then turned back.
“This is the only way to do it?” the Coach said.
“That I can think of.”
She gestured to Grunfeld, spinning her fingers in a go-ahead movement.
“It’ll go like this,” she said. “You can have your little TV show, but the girl stays in the chopper while you do. We’ll tie a line around your waist, so that if we need to lift off in a hurry, you’re coming with us. When you’re done, get back in here, and we’ll let your girlfriend go at the same time.”
“No,” Leigh said. “I’m not going anywhere without him.”
“Leigh,” Will said, “it’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not going to be fine, Will! What the hell are you doing? There has to be another way!”
Will dug deep and gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster. He closed his eyes and leaned back against his seat’s headrest, listening to Grunfeld making the call.
“They’re connecting me,” Grunfeld said. “How do I convince them I really have the Oracle?”
“You’re the badass son-of-a-bitch soldier of fortune,” Will said, without opening his eyes. “I sure as hell hope you’re tougher than a TV station receptionist.”
Chapter 44
A helipad was clearly marked on the widest section of KUSA’s roof: a large black H in a white circle. A crowd had gathered around that H, at least a hundred people.
The Coach turned from the helicopter cabin’s window and spoke to the pilot.
“Keep them spinning,” the Coach said. “We’ll need to get out of here in a hurry.”
Grunfeld tested the knots on the length of black nylon cord tied around Will’s waist. The other end was lashed securely to one of the seat supports in the cabin. Without a knife, it would take half an hour to get free. At least.
“So,” the Coach said, almost apologetic. “I feel like this has to be said. Try anything, and you’ll get a bullet in the back of the head.”
“Won’t that happen anyway?” Will said.
“Probably. But act up and”—she pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Leigh—“she’ll be next. We’ll toss her out after you and fly away.”
The eyes of everyone in the cabin were on Will. From the corner of his eye, he saw Leigh move—slowly reaching for the pistol in the belt of one of the guards next to her.
Oh no, no, he thought. Leigh, don’t—
She managed to get it halfway out of the holster before her hand was slapped away and the guard’s fist closed around her throat. Leigh made a strangled noise. The guard looked to the Coach for instructions.
“Jesus,” she said. “Doesn’t know when she’s got a good deal.”
She leaned in, putting her face close to Leigh’s.
“Just relax,” the Coach said. “You’ll be out of here in five minutes, if Mr. Dando sticks to the plan.”
The guard holding Leigh relaxed his grip but didn’t let go. She shoved at his arms, but she might as well have tried to topple an oak.
“Keep her quiet,” the Coach instructed. The guard’s other hand went over Leigh’s mouth.
“Take it easy, for God’s sake,” Will said.
“You want her out of here? Get on with it,” the Coach said.
Will glared at her, then put his hand on the cabin door and shoved the handle down. A meaty click as the latch released. He pushed open the door, which split at the midway point, the upper half sectioning up and the bottom expanding into a short flight of steps descending to the roof.
Will stepped out of the helicopter into an eruption of rotor wash, trailing the black nylon tether. The blades were still spinning, as the Coach had instructed, but even over the noise they generated Will could hear the shouted questions from the assembled crowd.
“Is it the end?”
“Will my husband stay with me?”
“Should I play fifteen or twenty-six in the match game?”
“Who’s going to win the next Super Bowl?”
“Is the Sword going to launch?”
“Will we ever land on Mars?”
“Where’s my daughter?”
The faces surrounding the helicopter were manic, frightened, awed.
Will hadn’t been exposed to this much raw need since he’d sifted through the e-mails people sent to the Site—forever ago. It was disorienting, like a hot spotlight shining right in his face.
Will took a deep, focusing breath. He turned back to the helicopter.
“Shut it down!” he shouted.
Grunfeld, waiting back in the open door to the helicopter’s cabin with the ropes in his hand, apparently couldn’t hear him—his face was stone blank, as ever. Will made a spinning motion with his hand, trying to evoke the rotors, then made a throat-cutting gesture, signaling for him to stop.
Finally, a reaction—Grunfeld’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline. He shook his head. Will covered his ears with his hands and shrugged. Grunfeld frowned deeply, but shouted something back into the cabin. A long moment, and then the deep thrumming of the helicopter’s engine ceased. The rotors slowed to a stop.
Ignoring the pleas from the crowd for information about loved ones’ futures, stock tips, answers, answers, answers, Will pointed at the nearest camera crew and motioned them forward. A trim, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair seemed to be the man in charge—he was wearing a suit and had a microphone in his hand and had the polished vibe of a news anchor.
Once he was close enough, Will leaned over and shouted over the crowd noise, right into the man’s ear.
“You’re going to have to do an uplink with this signal,” Will said.
The anchor gave him a puzzled look. Will pointed at the camera.
“I need this to go someplace specific,” he said, in an attempt to clarify. “What’s your name?”
“Crandall Fontaine,” the anchor said, who didn’t seem like he had completely processed the situation.
“Okay, Crandall, do you have a tech guy I can talk to?” Will said.
The anchor nodded. He waved to a heavyset man standing nearby.
“Jerry! Get up here,” Crandall Fontaine called.
The tech approached warily, his eyes never leaving Will’s face.
“Jerry,” Will said, keeping his voice calm and patient. “Hold on just one sec. I’ll need your help.”
He turned back to the helicopter.
“I need the phone again,” he shouted at Grunfeld, still lurking in the open cabin door.
Will was expecting to have to spend another few minutes convincing the Coach to give him the phone, but it sailed out of the helicopter door without a word. Evidently she had decided she was in for a penny, might as well be in for a pound. Will caught the phone neatly. He turned back to Jerry the tech and held it up.
“Now, Jerry, in a little while, someone will call this number. You’re going to talk to them and get the signal where it’s supposed to go. The footage from here will need to be sent someplace else, I think via satellite, and you’ll be receiving another feed the same way. The person over there needs to see and hear me, and I need to be able to see and hear them. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” Jerry answered. “Should be simple, if they have the right gear.”
“Good.”
Will handed Jerry the phone.
He stepped back and looked around the roof, making eye contact with different faces in the crowd, seeing the surge of eagerness whenever someone thought they’d made a connection. They wanted him to help. They wanted him to save the day.
Will turned around and climbed back up into the helicopter. He pulled the door shut behind him. The aircraft had good soundproofing—it had to, because of the rotors’ din. The sudden silence once the door latched shut was a balm to Will’s noise-lacerated ears.
Will stepped toward the seats containing Leigh and the mercenary guarding her.
“Move,” Will said to the man.
They locked eyes.
A beat.
The soldier stood. Will sat down next to Leigh.
“What’s happening?” she said.
“It’s all getting set up. It’ll take a few minutes.”
Leigh considered this.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Of course,” he answered.
“What do I do, Will?”
“For a living?”
“Yes,” Leigh said. “For a living.”
“You’re a journalist,” Will said.
“What kind?”
Will thought this over.
“For a website,” he said.
“Correct,” Leigh said. “So why in the world would I know anything about TV stations in Denver?”
Will frowned.
“I . . . guess I didn’t think about it. Just seemed like something you would know. But you did, right?”
Leigh looked at him, very intent.
“I used to date a guy in college. After graduation, he moved out here and took a job with KUSA. I visited him a few times, saw where he worked. That’s the only reason I knew. I shouldn’t have, but I did. We had zero time—the Coach was two seconds from ordering her guy to shoot us, and I had exactly the information you needed, at exactly the right moment. What is that, Will?”
Will exhaled, a long, slow breath that communicated an utter lack of surprise at what he’d just heard.
“What can I say, Leigh?” he said. “The Site provides.”
Leigh reached out and gripped his forearm.
“Please, Will,” Leigh said. “Tell me you’ve really got a plan.”
“Answer the lady,” the Coach said. “What are you doing, Mr. Oracle?”
“Waiting,” Will said.
He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
Chapter 45
The streets swarmed. An immense crowd, thousands strong, had gathered around KUSA headquarters, filling every open spot around the building, flowing across the grounds of the golf course up the street. People screamed, their hands in the air, tears running down their faces.
