Read Online The Siren Project by Stephen Renneberg - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephen Renneberg
Ads: Link
greedy, corrupt asshole, he’s confident too. He wants
the money in a Washington based bank a couple of miles from Capitol Hill. You
would have thought he’d at least send the money offshore.”
“When this is over,” Christa said, “He’s
going to jail.”
“I’ll testify for the prosecution, but I
want immunity!”
* * * *
“Lieutenant Commander Donovan Hayes,”
Mitch said, introducing the lanky naval officer, “Christa Malleson.”
Commander Hayes, a career naval officer
with a bent nose from an army-navy game, greeted Christa warmly, then gave
Mitch an impressed look. “You’ve come up in the world, Mitch old boy.”
“It's just business,” Mitch assured him.
“Out of respect to you, Christa, I won’t
tell you the stories I have on this guy. We used to play football together. Let's
just say, he's the most disreputable Marine I ever knew.”
Christa smiled. “Where Mitch is concerned,
nothing would surprise me, Commander.”
“Whatever the reason, an old sea dog like
me always likes to see a pretty lady on deck.” Hayes looked around his rather
cramped Annapolis Naval Academy office, filled with pictures of the submarines
he’d served on and some of the shipmates he’d known. “It’s kind of cramped here.
Should we head on down to the galley for lunch?”
“I’d rather stay here a while,” Mitch said
meaningfully.
“Perhaps the lovely lady wants to head on
down to the galley, and God knows, I’m a galley slave around a pretty face.” He
grinned mischievously at Christa.
“Actually Commander, Mitch is right. Your
cafeteria would be too public to discuss what we came here for.”
Mitch produced a small compact disk that Gunter
had recorded the electrostatic sound from the Newton Institute onto. “I’ve got
something I’d like you to listen to. You used to be a good sonar man.”
“Still am!” he declared proudly. “None
better.”
“I thought maybe you could make something
out of this.”
Hayes gave the disk a puzzled look. “I thought
you'd left the Secret Service, Mitch?”
“I’ve been asked to do a little contract
work for Uncle Sam.”
“That recording is classified, Commander,”
Christa explained. “So, whatever conclusions you draw from it, don't leave this
room.”
“Ahh, now I get it.” Hayes said knowingly,
looking between Mitch and Christa. “You’re working for her?”
“Something like that.”
“So you must be. . .?” Hayes asked,
glancing thoughtfully at the disk. “NSA?”
“You should know better than to ask a lady
that question, Commander.”
Hayes chuckled. “You’re a lucky man, Mitch
, I always wanted to take orders from a woman.” Hayes turned his attention to
the disk. “Okay, exactly how classified is this thing?”
“The kind you get the electric chair for if
you give it to the enemy,” Mitch informed him.
“Guess I won’t be selling it to the highest
bidder, then.”
“You won’t break any laws by listening to
it,” Christa reassured him.
Hayes sat down at his desk and played the
disk through his computer. He pursed his lips thoughtfully when the recording
finished. “Not much to go on. I don’t have the processing power they have on
the subs, but let’s see what we can make of it.” Hayes activated several
programs, not one available outside the military, and analyzed the sound for
twenty minutes. He grunted occasionally, muttered curiously several times, but
mostly worked in silence. Eventually he sat back, his hands behind his head.
“Do you know what it is?” Christa asked.
“Electrical energy in flux, that's highly
activated charged particles. The rhythmic sound underlying the electrical flux
is a generator. Not sure what type. Might be producing a magnetic field, but I
can't be sure. And there’s that damned scream in there, no idea what that’s all
about.” Hayes gave Mitch a curious look. “The real problem is the quality of
the recording. Made by a long range directional mike, I
the money in a Washington based bank a couple of miles from Capitol Hill. You
would have thought he’d at least send the money offshore.”
“When this is over,” Christa said, “He’s
going to jail.”
“I’ll testify for the prosecution, but I
want immunity!”
* * * *
“Lieutenant Commander Donovan Hayes,”
Mitch said, introducing the lanky naval officer, “Christa Malleson.”
Commander Hayes, a career naval officer
with a bent nose from an army-navy game, greeted Christa warmly, then gave
Mitch an impressed look. “You’ve come up in the world, Mitch old boy.”
“It's just business,” Mitch assured him.
“Out of respect to you, Christa, I won’t
tell you the stories I have on this guy. We used to play football together. Let's
just say, he's the most disreputable Marine I ever knew.”
Christa smiled. “Where Mitch is concerned,
nothing would surprise me, Commander.”
“Whatever the reason, an old sea dog like
me always likes to see a pretty lady on deck.” Hayes looked around his rather
cramped Annapolis Naval Academy office, filled with pictures of the submarines
he’d served on and some of the shipmates he’d known. “It’s kind of cramped here.
Should we head on down to the galley for lunch?”
“I’d rather stay here a while,” Mitch said
meaningfully.
“Perhaps the lovely lady wants to head on
down to the galley, and God knows, I’m a galley slave around a pretty face.” He
grinned mischievously at Christa.
“Actually Commander, Mitch is right. Your
cafeteria would be too public to discuss what we came here for.”
Mitch produced a small compact disk that Gunter
had recorded the electrostatic sound from the Newton Institute onto. “I’ve got
something I’d like you to listen to. You used to be a good sonar man.”
“Still am!” he declared proudly. “None
better.”
“I thought maybe you could make something
out of this.”
Hayes gave the disk a puzzled look. “I thought
you'd left the Secret Service, Mitch?”
“I’ve been asked to do a little contract
work for Uncle Sam.”
“That recording is classified, Commander,”
Christa explained. “So, whatever conclusions you draw from it, don't leave this
room.”
“Ahh, now I get it.” Hayes said knowingly,
looking between Mitch and Christa. “You’re working for her?”
“Something like that.”
“So you must be. . .?” Hayes asked,
glancing thoughtfully at the disk. “NSA?”
“You should know better than to ask a lady
that question, Commander.”
Hayes chuckled. “You’re a lucky man, Mitch
, I always wanted to take orders from a woman.” Hayes turned his attention to
the disk. “Okay, exactly how classified is this thing?”
“The kind you get the electric chair for if
you give it to the enemy,” Mitch informed him.
“Guess I won’t be selling it to the highest
bidder, then.”
“You won’t break any laws by listening to
it,” Christa reassured him.
Hayes sat down at his desk and played the
disk through his computer. He pursed his lips thoughtfully when the recording
finished. “Not much to go on. I don’t have the processing power they have on
the subs, but let’s see what we can make of it.” Hayes activated several
programs, not one available outside the military, and analyzed the sound for
twenty minutes. He grunted occasionally, muttered curiously several times, but
mostly worked in silence. Eventually he sat back, his hands behind his head.
“Do you know what it is?” Christa asked.
“Electrical energy in flux, that's highly
activated charged particles. The rhythmic sound underlying the electrical flux
is a generator. Not sure what type. Might be producing a magnetic field, but I
can't be sure. And there’s that damned scream in there, no idea what that’s all
about.” Hayes gave Mitch a curious look. “The real problem is the quality of
the recording. Made by a long range directional mike, I
Similar Books
