Tyler replied with a nod. Marc stared at the open back door of the limo, waiting eagerly for the investor to emerge. Ever since Tyler mentioned the notion of an 'investor,' Marc's inventive imagination conjured many different images of what he expected. If it was a woman, he imagined a beautiful, middle-aged widow, whose wealthy dead husband had left her enough money to gamble on such ideas as an underwater vessel. If the 'investor' was a man, Marc imagined a large, strapping European billionaire with a square jaw and a barrel of a chest.

Neither idea could have been further off, though Marc supposed there was actually a mixture of the two. The investor was short, even smaller than Marc. While the man's diminutive size was the first thing that stuck out about him, Marc noticed other odd qualities about him.

"Marc Hudson, meet Nigel Huffington," Tyler said, making the introductions. "Nigel will be my main advisor on this project."

Marc immediately got a strange vibe from Nigel. The two shook hands (Marc was surprised by the man's solid grip), but the personal assistant could not get over Nigel's apparent reluctance to look him in the eye.

"Nice to meet you," Marc said.

Marc knew it was not polite to stare but this investor did not look right. The skin on Nigel's face did not look natural. Everything looked too tight, too fake, as if he'd recently had plastic surgery. The man did not appear old so Marc wondered why his face had been altered. Besides his skin that appeared 'plastic,' Marc thought he noticed color contacts and a bad dye job on Nigel's hair.

"Are you staring at me?" Nigel asked. Embarrassed at not realizing he was staring, Marc shook his head and turned away. "Tyler, what's this guy's problem?"

"I'm sorry," Marc said, turning away. He led them toward the construction site, where he had a quick tour lined up. Behind him, Marc heard Nigel asking Tyler if they could trust him.

"Calm down, Nigel," Tyler said. "Marc has worked for me a very long time. Don't be so paranoid."

Marc did not like having his loyalty questioned but remained silent.

Without another word, Marc led the two men up a long flight of stairs just outside the main construction building. He quickly typed in the passcode into a security keypad, which turned from red to green as the door swung open. Marc walked through the door and took a quick glance down at the grounds, checking to make sure everything was in order.

Of course everything is in order. A ship that weighs thousands of tons isn't just going to float away, Marc thought.

Marc turned to look at Tyler and Nigel. Although Tyler had seen the underwater vessel hundreds of time throughout the construction process, he had been gone for several months, during which time the crew made significant progress.

"I can't believe you built this so quickly," Nigel said to Tyler, barely speaking above a whisper. "Are you sure it will go deep enough?"

The question seemed a bit odd to Marc, but he would not have given it much thought had it not been for Tyler's reaction. Tyler quickly glanced at Marc, clearly annoyed that his assistant heard what Nigel asked. Confused, Marc shrugged his shoulders, as if telling his boss he had no idea what the petite investor was talking about. Tyler's usual smugness quickly returned.

"Marc, please leave us now," Tyler said.

"Will it, Tyler? You're sure we can survive in that thing?" Nigel asked again, not acknowledging Marc's presence.

"Nigel, please keep quiet for a moment," Tyler said, beckoning Marc to leave them alone.

Marc frowned, wishing for an explanation from his boss as to the need for secrecy. When Marc realized no explanation was forthcoming, he turned around and left the two men alone.

Why the hell do they need to be alone? Marc thought as the door closed behind him. More importantly, who the hell is Nigel Huffington and why the hell is he so important to Tyler?.

BOOK THREE.

THE NEW SPACE RACE.

By: Kevin George.

MAY 3, 2015.

5 YEARS, 3 MONTHS, 19 DAYS BEFORE IMPACT...

Three years had passed since President George Marshall first introduced the world to a proposal for the grandest technological venture ever attempted.

Tens of billions of dollars had been spent by the American government on construction of a massive space station, a project being built in the Arizona desert. Throughout the entire building process, the press had been fixated on this headline. Even though construction of the station took place within a well-guarded and highly secretive facility, members of the press still remained outside the surrounding barbed wire fences.

Neither the extreme daytime heat nor the opposing bitter cold of night kept reporters and photographers away, as the opportunity to get the first glimpse of any part of the space station was too great to pass up. Every major television station offered substantial rewards for the first exclusive pictures of any major components of the space station. People working inside the complex had been offered bribes, but not a single worker accepted. A few ambitious undercover reporters attempted posing as construction workers to gain entrance to the site but none managed to get past the Marine guards at the only gate.

In the Information Age, secrets were nearly impossible to keep. But the details of the biggest project in American history were kept tightly guarded, much to the dismay of the media and the curious public alike. But this secrecy only seemed to "fuel the fire" of fascination among those interested in the space station. And even though the news coverage being filmed outside the desert compound had dwindled during the few years of construction, hardly a day passed that the space station failed making the nightly news. Viewers were still enthralled by the idea, clearly evident by the raised level of excitement whenever an original angle was taken on this story.

One such angle had to do with the sudden disappearance of Wesley Maddox. For nearly three weeks, not a single member of the media spotted Maddox, the man in charge of the space station project from the moment McNalley & Jones was chosen as the company with the winning design. A man who'd steadily grown camera-shy during years of construction, the media usually saw Maddox on a daily basis as he walked between the different buildings of the construction site. The first few days he did not appear were written off as coincidence but when a few days turned into a week and one week turned into two questions and allegations about the team leader's whereabouts ran rampant.

James Armour, the Defense Secretary and head of NASSA, attempted to quash speculation by giving a press conference. He reported that Wesley Maddox was simply dealing with other matters pertaining to the project but the media automatically became suspicious. Armour's distinct vagueness led to the conclusion that the project leader was in the process of being replaced. Although only rumor with no basis, this story found the front-page headlines of every major American newspaper.

After long months of secretive construction with little new information to report, the space station had suddenly been thrust back into the media spotlight. Rumors were only hot for so long and the disappearance of Wesley Maddox quickly became stale news relegated to the back pages.

Until further unusual activity began happening more frequently in the Arizona desert.

Late one night, dozens of large vehicles entered the construction compound. These were not normal tractor-trailers that transported construction supplies to the facility, nor were they large dump trucks that hauled away tons of waste materials. A local reporter, who'd covered the midnight shift outside the construction compound for nearly a year without a single significant story to show for his efforts, finally had the opportunity to broadcast a meaningful event in the desert.

"The convoy of huge vehicles suddenly appeared from the desert like a massive ghost army, swarming upon the space station construction compound during a surprise midnight raid," the tired young man said, reporting the story just as the desert sun began creeping across the sky. His overly dramatic words were mixed with blurry video footage of the nighttime invasion of the large vehicles. Displaying greenish tint from the video camera's night vision, combined with the clouds of dust churned into the air by the moving vehicles, one's imagination really could conjure thoughts of a 'ghostly army.'

Caught in the excitement of seeing the massive vehicles, the junior reporter had not noticed many details. Since the vehicles appeared unexpectedly, the young reporter hadn't even considered counting the number of large vehicles that entered the compound. Getting the cameras rolling turned his focus away from the brigade for the first minutes of arrival, in which time over a dozen of the monstrous contraptions had driven passed. The procession continued for nearly half an hour, making it impossible to estimate an exact number.

Regardless, the young reporter's moment to shine finally arrived. As his live report from the scene came to an end the next morning, the anchorman had three ensuing questions to ask his inexperienced counterpart.

"Tell me," the distinguished anchor asked, "what happened to these vehicles once they entered the space station construction compound?"

"That's actually the strangest part of the entire incident," the young reporter answered right away, expecting the follow-up question. "The gates to the compound had barely closed for a few minutes when they opened back up again. The procession then reappeared and drove back from where they came. It's as if they entered the compound, circled around and drove right back out.

"I waited by the gates of the construction site for any official word on what had happened. But as with everything that has happened so far at the space station site, not a single representative of the government or McNalley & Jones made themselves available for comment."

"What about the vehicles?" the anchorman continued. "Do we know what happened once they left the compound?"

"That's a good question, Dan," the young reporter said, visibly gaining more confidence the longer his live telecast continued. "While I awaited official comment, my cameraman followed the caravan in his news van and shot more footage."

Shaky video was shown of the large vehicles, with the blackness of night sky beginning to transform into the dark blue of pre-dawn.

"The long line of vehicles traveled approximately twenty-five miles southwest of the construction site. Their journey ended at Fort McKenzie, an Army training facility that's been decommissioned for the past ten years."

The footage soon changed to an aerial view shot by a helicopter quickly dispatched to follow the mysterious vehicles. The helicopter followed the long convoy of vehicles until they disappeared into the army base, where restricted airspace impeded any further filming.

"But just like the lack of comment we've received at the space station construction compound, the Army also offered no statement or explanation as to the presence, or even existence, of the mysterious vehicles," the young reporter stated.

The veteran news anchor had one final question.

"Any theories surfaced about the appearance or role this convoy could've played?"

The young reporter maintained a stony, all-business exterior, but any observant viewer could see the enthusiasm in the young man's eyes as his opinion was about to reach a nationwide audience.

"As a matter of fact, Dan, this occurrence could very well be a precursor to a number of different possibilities," he began. "If you combine this incident with the recent disappearance of Wesley Maddox, one could realistically assume that construction on the space station has come to a halt. The importance of having a leader on hand for a project like this cannot be understated.

"Also, there has been a noticeable decline in the number of workers passing through the security gates today thus far. The construction workers have been on strict time schedules ever since this project began and the drastic decrease of their arrival this morning has raised speculation that a major change is in the works. Completely giving up on the space station would be the biggest setback this country has faced in a long time, a failure of unheard magnitude. Therefore, it is more likely that the leadership and direction of the space station could be shifting, one that will likely find Maddox sharing power with another force.

"From the moment President Marshall announced the contract for the space station would be given to a private company, many outspoken critics in the government have objected to trusting such a major project to private citizens. No other project has ever been as large or costly as this one and every comparable venture attempted on American soil has been the product of a governmental agency. From the birth of the space station project following the President's announcement nearly three years ago, many powerful people have held the view that the Army should play a major role in this project's development. After all, it's impossible to deny the national security implications that something like this holds.

"Therefore, could the appearance of these huge vehicles from a nearby Army base have something to do with a new strategy involving the U.S. military? There has been no official word yet about this but it seems foolish to think otherwise. Reporting from the space station construction site, I'm Sean Brown."

Hundreds of miles away, President George Marshall sat in the Oval Office, a grin across his face. Peter Mansfield also couldn't keep his thin lips from curling into a pleased smirk. The young reporter played right into their hands. They knew that the story of the Army vehicles would only lead to further speculation about the success of the space station. A crucial time had come in the building process, a time when the American public needed to be distracted.

And now, they were distracted.

During the next week, the majority of the media camped out near the construction site moved 25 miles southwest, where they anxiously waited at the Army base for the reappearance of the mysterious vehicles. Stories continued to swirl like sand in the desert wind, forming a further cloud that hid the truth of what was really happening.

In the three years since the announcement of the space station, the American government spent countless billions trying to put the project together. Three different Senate committees were filled with politicians still upset that they hadn't been given the power to choose which company was awarded the project. Had President Marshall allowed these Senate committees to choose the winning design, too many Senators could've found their campaign funds heavily padded for future elections. Because this decision was taken away from them, many politicians were eager to keep a close eye on the amount of money spent on construction. The wounded collective pride of many of the most powerful men in America allowed little financial breathing room for McNalley & Jones, as every cent spent was strictly accounted for.

But only months into his first term in the Oval Office six years earlier, President Marshall learned that hidden money was always available to him when needed. Billions of dollars had been stashed away in secret slush funds over the years, billions at the President's fingertips, money that Marshall would never have to answer for. Running the most powerful country in the world often led to making difficult decisions, decisions that required the disbursement of huge sums. Some of these decisions were better left unknown to the majority of high-ranking government officials.

President George Marshall had known about the deadly path of Comet Clement less than a year into his Presidency. From day one of its discovery, plans were put in motion to deflect this comet, but by no means could any of the six founding members of the 'Inner Circle' predict the ultimate outcome. Although deflecting the comet from its deadly path had been the group's desired goal, there existed no precedence or knowledge for potential success concerning that goal. Therefore, President Marshall also had to plan for failure, plan that the comet would strike somewhere on the eastern coast of South America on August 22, 2020. Since Marshall was cautious enough to plan for the deflection attempt's failure, he spent as little of this secret stash of money as possible during his first term in the White House.

When George Marshall realized money had to be spent, he did not spare any expense. The government spent billions on the space station, all of which was closely monitored by the Senate and made public information. But very few people knew that more money had been spent during the three years of construction on a different project. The space station needed this other project to be successful, a project that most Americans would never even know about.

And this project took place only 25 miles from the space station construction compound.

CHAPTER ONE.

MAY 10, 2015.

Wesley Maddox was always surprised how cold the desert air felt before sunrise. For the rest of his life, the leader of the space station project would recall his years spent in the desert as fiercely hot, extreme heat taking on a life of its own. But nothing ever prepared him for the bitter chill of the pre-dawn desert wind.

This blast of hot air is actually going to feel good, he thought to himself, knowing warmth was not far away.

Standing alone on the roof of the control tower, Maddox could've chosen the warmth and comfort of the control room below to watch the ensuing blastoff. Watching this moment on a television screen did not feel right to him, though. It would feel sacrilegious if he did not witness this event with his own two eyes. Besides, nervousness caused the pit of his stomach to churn in an uproar and he sweated as much in the cold morning as he would in the midday heat.

He'd been waiting for this moment the past three years, during which time his every thought and action had been spent worrying about the success of the space station project. Maddox still had years of arduous work before the main goal was accomplished but this was a huge moment toward the next major phase. Designing original blueprints and overcoming struggles with ground construction were major accomplishments but that had been the easy part as far as Maddox was concerned. He would gauge success of the space station upon the course of events that began with this first major step.

And Maddox had zero control over this step. His input was never requested for any part of this process. In fact, he only found out the details of this a few months earlier.

As Wesley Maddox stood alone on the roof of the control tower, gazing in anxious awe at the amazing space shuttle poised for liftoff, he thought back to the day when President Marshall informed him of the plans for the early stages of space construction.

From the moment a burly Secret Service agent stepped unannounced into his office trailer, Wesley Maddox knew something was up. Without an explanation as to where they were going or why they were going there, the agent ordered Wesley to follow him. All of his questions went unanswered, with the muscular agent simply responding 'I can't say' to all inquiries from Maddox.

Having been summoned to the White House in a similar manner once before, Wesley Maddox did not worry too much about where he was being taken. They drove to a small nearby airport and boarded a jet inside one of the rickety hangars.

"Now this is what I call service," Maddox joked with the Secret Service agent, who did not crack a smile.

Maddox hadn't even clicked his seat belt when the jet began to taxi toward the runway. Three and a half hours later, the jet lowered from the clouds as the tiny dots on the ground grew larger. Not surprising to Maddox, many of the recognizable landmarks of the nation's capital took shape as the plane descended from the sky.

They could've at least let me change clothes if I'm going to the White House, he thought, staring down at his dusty jeans and sweat-stained t-shirt, his typical uniform in the desert. I look like a damn cowboy, not the leader of the world's greatest project.

Emerging from the plane, Maddox was not surprised to find another waiting limousine. What did surprise him, though, was the direction the limo traveled. The normal drive from the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport to the White House should've taken ten minutes. But instead of driving north on the George Washington Parkway, the limo drove south, away from the hustle and bustle of Washington, D.C. At this point, butterflies reappeared in Maddox's stomach.

"We aren't going to D.C.?" the project leader asked nervously.

Still, the large Secret Service agent said nothing, sitting in silence with his arms folded across his barrel chest, his unblinking eyes aimed straight at Maddox.

What the hell is going on? the project leader thought. The limo passed into Virginia, as the buildings and traffic of D.C. transformed into country roads and trees. Because Maddox was afraid of what would happen when the car reached its destination, the next half-hour flashed by in an instant. The limo finally turned off the country road onto a bumpy dirt road.

The dirt road dead-ended at a log cabin in the middle of the woods, a cabin that Maddox immediately recognized as not being owned by one of the locals. After all, two other limousines were parked nearby and indicated that other important people were already here.

The limo pulled to a stop and the Secret Service agent immediately jumped out, extracting a walkie-talkie from his pocket and speaking a few words. The large man stood outside of the car and gestured toward the cabin.

"Please enter the front door, sir," the agent said.

Nervous about what he might find inside, Maddox suddenly wished the large man was coming along. Cautiously, Maddox walked up the wooden front steps of the cabin, pausing to knock a few times before entering. When he saw a familiar face sitting in a lounge chair inside, the project leader still felt unsure whether he could stop worrying.

"Maddox," Peter Mansfield said, glancing down at his watch, annoyed at having to wait. "It's about time you got here."

The space station project leader and Chief of Staff had never gotten along. In fact, Mansfield openly voiced his displeasure with the way Maddox ran the construction site. Mansfield had been of the opinion that Maddox, as well as McNalley & Jones, should've been replaced more than a year ago, an opinion Mansfield had no problem voicing straight to Maddox's face. This openness inevitably led to a great deal of tension between the two hardheaded men. Neither bothered to hide their hatred for one another.

But now, as Maddox stood face-to-face with the only person in life he ever considered a true enemy, the project leader was hesitant to engage Mansfield in their usual bickering. Maddox felt tentative to say anything that could anger Mansfield. Being alone in a cabin in the middle of the Virginia forest his whereabouts unknown to any other person made Maddox feel vulnerable to any situation the Chief of Staff put him in.

"Where exactly is here?" Maddox asked.

"I don't have time for explanations," Mansfield answered. "Follow me."