"That's good, because I would have been conflicted had the President chosen me to put together the list," Armour said. The head of NASSA turned back toward President Marshall. "I have an update about the national security measure we discussed over the phone last night."

"Good, good," President Marshall said. "Peter, do you think you could give James and I a few minutes to discuss some things?"

Mansfield was momentarily taken aback by the President's request to be left alone. The three of them shared the world's biggest secret for years now, leaving him skeptical about Marshall and Armour's sudden need for privacy. Mansfield wore a clear expression of doubt. Before he could even question the reason for this request, President Marshall explained himself.

"I know that look, Peter," Marshall said. "But James is still the Secretary of Defense and what he has to discuss with me is a matter of national security. It has nothing to do with the comet or the space station. Sometimes, I still have to conduct Presidential business the way it is supposed to be done."

"Of course, Mr. President," Mansfield obliged. "I did not mean to convey mistrust. I sometimes forget that each of us have duties beyond the comet. I should start getting this list together."

Without another word, Mansfield picked up his laptop and walked out of the Oval Office. As he closed the door behind him, he sensed unease that Marshall and Armour were discussing something he should be hearing.

Or maybe President Marshall did not want to take the chance that I would talk more about the list in front of Armour, Mansfield wondered. Armour probably would not be privy to all the exact details of the list. Maybe Marshall doesn't trust Armour to know everything.

"To tell you the truth, James, I don't trust Peter to know everything that we discuss," the President said. "After Ackerman suddenly disappeared the same day I sent Peter to get him, I've had trouble trusting him. If he did what we think to Earl, I have no other choice but to start putting restraints on things I let him know."

"I've never been Mansfield's biggest supporter, and what he likely did to Earl is appalling. But is it wise to lose another voice in our cause?" Armour asked. "Our little secret group had six people before. We can't cut it to just you and me, Mr. President."

"I'm not saying we exclude him from everything. Having him concentrate on putting together the space station list is perfect. It will keep him busy and complete one of our toughest obligations. With him preoccupied, we can keep the newer developments between us for awhile until we figure out precisely what's going on."

"Peter still denies any wrongdoing?" Armour asked.

"I haven't mentioned Earl to him in quite some time. But Peter denied hurting him from day one and never changed his tune."

"Then what I'm about to tell you about national security stays between us?"

President Marshall hated making this decision, especially considering how loyal Peter Mansfield had been to him personally and professionally. But the sloppy way his Chief of Staff dealt with certain problems could come back to haunt them one day. The President had enough to worry about without inviting more problems.

The Secretary of Defense shifted subjects.

"President Marshall, the reason I'm here is to discuss a possible national security risk involving Tyler Ainsworth," Armour explained.

"Ainsworth? How can he possibly pose any threat to America? Hasn't he been dead for years now?"

"Not the Senior Ainsworth, Mr. President. His son. Apparently he's constructing a project of his own in a secluded area of upstate Washington. It seems he's been running the construction site in a similar manner that we've done with the space station construction site. Once I received a report saying Ainsworth was working on a secret project, I felt it was time to delve a little deeper and inform you of what was happening."

"How did you come about this information?" President Marshall asked.

"I've been tracking Ainsworth for quite a few years now, but never saw him act threatening enough to warrant an investigation. After the Senior Tyler's death following the space station announcement, his son publicly criticized you, me, NASSA and the government as a whole."

"I remember," Marshall said. "The police suspected foul play at first but ruled Senior's death an accident. Soon after, the kid blasted us in the media."

"Public criticism is nothing new for us..." Armour began.

"I know that too well," Marshall interrupted.

"But when the Navy began squeezing Ainsworth Industry on multiple business deals, Tyler Junior desperately sought a meeting with me. I figured it was to apologize for his remarks, so I granted him a meeting after making him sweat for awhile," Armour said.

"What did you discuss at your sit-down? Did he beg for forgiveness?" Marshall asked.

"Actually, sir, the kid canceled just hours after the meeting was finally granted to him," Armour answered. "I found it suspicious that he no longer cared if his company lost very profitable business with the government. At this point, I had Tyler Ainsworth Junior placed on a list of possible security threats. I didn't really think he was a danger but wanted to make sure I kept tabs on him. Over the next few years, I watched with distant interest as the kid slowly, but completely, phased out the submarine contract his company had with the Navy.

"Ainsworth himself eventually disappeared. It took my contact at the CIA a few months to finally track him and his business to Washington. There, we found that Ainsworth is constructing a secret project, some sort of massive underwater vessel."

"And Ainsworth says the project is for the government?" the President asked.

"Yes, sir. This is obviously a front told to the construction workers so they wouldn't run out and tell anyone who could make this project public knowledge. The only way my agent received this information was through the use of alcohol. Supposedly many of the workers were recently laid off, which they were none too pleased about. A few drinks at a local watering hole loosened quite a few lips."

"Do you have any pictures of the vessel?" Marshall asked. "Do you think it's a threat to national security in any way?"

"Unfortunately I don't know, sir. We don't have pictures of the vessel for analysis, but we'll have much more information about the situation by the end of the day. I've dispatched Admiral Walter Matthews to Washington to pay a visit to the site and Tyler Ainsworth."

"I know Matthews," President Marshall said. "He's a tough man."

"Yes he is," Armour agreed. "And he's also good at what he does. He should be able to get all the information we need to decide the next step on how to handle this."

Following his early morning meeting with the President, Mansfield made his way through the White House to his small office. Only a few seconds passed after Mansfield powered up the laptop when his office phone rang.

"Chief of Staff," Mansfield answered.

"Peter, it's Mae. The President wants you back in his office right away."

"I was just there."

"He tells me to get you, I call you. Now please come back," the secretary said, hanging up before Mansfield could complain more. He could do nothing but smile at the cantankerous old woman's attitude. Without opening a single program on the computer, Mansfield shut down the laptop, left his office and made his way back to the Oval Office.

When Peter walked into the President's office, he was surprised to see James Armour still there.

"Are you sure you two don't need more time to discuss national secrets?" Mansfield asked.

"No. We dealt with national security already. While we were waiting for you to come back, James and I had a free moment to talk about the meeting we'll be attending later tonight. But that's not important right now. I do have information on another secret that you already know about," President Marshall answered. "And an answer to a question you asked me just before James arrived. I explained to James about the second list I asked you to create, the list of 250 survivors who might not be best suited for space living.

"I spoke with Russian President Aleksandr Metachenko late last night and he informed me that Russia just began construction on a massive underground shelter. The facility is being built deep in the Ural Mountain range, which Aleksandr hopes will strengthen their fortification by providing natural defense against impact."

"What is Metachenko telling his people the shelter is for?" Mansfield worried. "I certainly hope he didn't inform the entire Russian government about the comet."

"He didn't, I can assure you that," Marshall said. "Aleksandr told me that he used the steadily rising tension between his country and China as an excuse for the shelter's construction. Since China has nuclear capability, the need for a massive bomb shelter was more than justifiable to the majority of Russian government officials."

"How safe will the bomb shelter be?" Mansfield asked. "With the path of the comet now shifted to strike somewhere in the area of Siberia, won't their facility be too close to the impact zone to survive intact?"

"It would be nearly impossible to predict something like that with 100 percent accuracy. And I would much rather be onboard the space station where there will be no possible aftereffects of the comet's impact," the President said. "But on the other hand, Russia knows the kind of force they need to brace against, and their architects and engineers are some of the best in the world. If the surrounding Ural Mountains provide as much natural protection against the blast as they hope, the Russians might be in good shape."

"And the other list you want me to make is for this shelter," Mansfield said.

The President nodded.

"If there are two different sanctuaries against the comet, humanity has twice as much chance to survive. I want America to be represented among any group of survivors. I will provide Russia with any help they might need to get this shelter built. I'm also considering a diplomatic trip to China to see if I can quell any tension between the two countries."

Mansfield did not think interfering on behalf of Russia would be a good idea. American diplomats had been careful not to align themselves with Russia too strongly and thus turn their backs on China. Alienating a hostile, powerful country such as China would be nothing but a distraction that America could not afford. Besides, accepting help from the Russians during the station construction process had already strained relations with China.

"I don't think that would be the right move, Mr. President," James Armour said.

Mansfield and Marshall simultaneously looked at the NASSA Chief, surprised to hear Armour say this.

"For some reason, I would've thought Peter would be the one to object," the President said.

"I was just about to," the Chief of Staff said.

"I'm usually the last person to agree with Peter, but this time he's right," Armour said. "Interfering in the squabble on Russia's behalf would open up a can of worms that we can't afford. The amount of time we have left is too valuable to waste on an international dispute that's impossible to settle. We have too many problems of our own to deal with."

"We'll quietly help Russia build their shelter any way possible but I'll keep out of their foreign affairs for now. But when the time is right..." President Marshall was a hard man to completely dissuade once his mind was set on something.

"You mentioned you were dealing with your own problems?" Mansfield asked. "Is this something other than what we discussed earlier?"

The President glanced momentarily at Mansfield. When their eyes met, Marshall quickly looked away.

"Would you like me to leave again?"

Armour shook his head.

"No, this problem has to do with the space station. I met with my NASSA council the other day to discuss the availability of shuttles for the extensive flight schedule needed for space construction. Needless to say, the men were not very enthused about the chances of the shuttles remaining in top condition throughout the next few years. Since we'll eventually need the shuttles to deliver most of our cargo and passengers to the station, I'm worried that the long-term cost of construction will be greater than originally projected."

"Tell them to make it work," Mansfield said.

"Unfortunately, ordering people to do the impossible does not always make it feasible, no matter how much you yell," Armour said. "These men know what they're talking about and would do everything possible to comply with our demands. It might just be impossible."

"We can only focus on what is in front of us, and not worry about what will happen too far down the line," President Marshall said. "Completing space construction is job number one right now and we must use all of our assets to make sure this happens. If it means we burn out a few of the shuttles, we'll come up with something down the road to get our people into space. But first, we have to make sure our people actually have a space station to go to."

CHAPTER FOUR.

"Keep moving," a surprisingly feminine voice said.

Tyler Ainsworth figured that the voice had to belong to one of the two large men who accompanied Admiral Matthews. The two bodyguards had not spoken during the walk through the hangar and into the military Humvee parked outside. Once the four men reached the vehicle, Admiral Matthews sprung the first of many surprises on Tyler: a blindfold.

Although he was reluctant to wear it, Tyler had no other choice but to acquiesce to the admiral's demand. Tyler only felt slight concern at first by being taken for questioning but became more worried when blindfolded. A strong pair of hands guided him into the back seat, where he sat impatiently for several hours while the Humvee drove to their destination. A few times during the long drive, Tyler asked questions to the admiral, but each time he was met with silence.

When Tyler could no longer stand being ignored, he began to yell threats and insults at Admiral Matthews. His threats obviously held no merit in his current situation but he refused to sit in silence and be intimidated.

Until the violence began.

A muscular forearm the size of a tree limb unexpectedly pushed against Tyler's windpipe. Tyler's hands had not been bound but his resistance did little to budge the huge arm. The lack of air quickly drained strength from his body and he began to see stars beyond the blackness of his blindfold. Seconds before Tyler thought he might pass out, the bodyguard sitting next to him spoke for the first time.

"Don't ever speak that way to Admiral Matthews again," the feminine voice said.

The bodyguard released his arm from Tyler's throat, allowing cool air to flow into his lungs. Tyler coughed and rubbed his throat, sucking deep gulps of air for the next few minutes. For the remainder of the ride, Tyler sat quietly in the vehicle, growing increasingly nervous as time passed. When the Humvee finally stopped, Tyler heard the door open and was pushed forcefully from the vehicle. He stumbled to the ground to the delight of the chuckling bodyguards.

The guards led Tyler into some sort of building. Tyler wanted to ask if he could take off the blindfold once inside but he dared not speak another word until the others said he could.

"Stop right here," the voice said.

Tyler heard the jingle of keys and the clicking of a door being unlocked. He was forced into a room and pushed down on a wooden chair. When the blindfold was ripped away from his head, Tyler watched the bodyguards walk out of the room and close the door. Tyler's first instinct was to try to escape but he knew the guards were probably waiting on the other side of the door.

He sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair and looked around the dimly lit room. An old wooden table, slightly tilted from one leg being shorter than the others, and another wooden chair were the only furniture in the small room. The cracked cement floor and drab gray cinderblock walls made it feel like a jail cell. It reminded Tyler of how the movies portrayed solitary confinement.

They're trying to get into my head, Tyler thought. They think roughing me up and putting me in this cell will psyche me out. But I know they're secret. They'll pay for doing this to me...

Although Tyler hated to admit it, he was frightened by the situation. But having the confidential information that he did made him more powerful than Admiral Matthews could ever predict.

The door opened and Matthews walked in the room.

"Speak of the devil," Tyler said, his voice still a bit hoarse from being choked. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "I was just thinking of you."

Admiral Matthews seemed momentarily taken aback by Tyler's newfound boldness. Apparently, the admiral thought he already won a victory in the battle for intimidation.

"I see you're a bit more talkative," the admiral said. "That's good. I'll need you to talk a bit more than earlier if you're to answer my questions."

"I can't make any promises but I'll certainly try my best," Tyler said, the tone of his voice oozing with contempt.

Admiral Matthews dropped a folder on the small wooden table and sat in the chair across from Tyler. For nearly a minute, Matthews stared directly at Tyler, who did not back down from the admiral's gaze. Finally, the older man picked up the folder and flipped through its contents.

"So, exactly what do you plan on doing with your vessel when construction is complete?" the admiral asked.

"Since the Navy began cutting back their contracts with Ainsworth Industries, I decided it might be smart to change the direction of my company. You're now looking at pictures of the world's first underwater cruise liner," Tyler explained. "Providing leisure to wealthy consumers is going to be our wave of the future."

Admiral Matthews' brow furrowed in disbelief. This answer was nothing like what he expected to hear. Tyler sensed the admiral's skepticism.

"It's true, Admiral," Tyler said. "This was an idea that my father and I used to discuss all the time. It was a dream of ours but he was always afraid to take the company in a different direction. The old get set in their ways and are rarely comfortable with change. So when my father finally died-"

"Under mysterious circumstances," Matthews added.

"I've come here today of my own free will to answer your questions. I would appreciate not being implicated in my father's death, especially after the police ruled it an accident," Tyler said. "Anyway, after my father's accident and the subsequent cutbacks on my Navy contracts, I decided it was time to stop dreaming and start executing. I would not make the same mistake my father did in trusting the government to keep my company afloat."

Admiral Matthews continued flipping through the folder until Tyler stopped talking. When Tyler was done with his explanation, the admiral stopped and looked up.

"You say the Navy began cutting your contracts but according to this file, you completely severed the deal. Why?"

Again, once Tyler began to talk, Admiral Matthews began looking through the contents of the folder, seeming to pay no attention.

"I'd be lying if I said the government's snub of our space station proposal played no role in my decision," Tyler admitted. "My criticism of the government is well documented, as I'm sure your file states. So yes, I was very upset about the entire situation, as was my father. After the years of hard work and service that Ainsworth Industries gave to the government, the blatant disrespect by not even including our proposal as one of the final candidates was infuriating. I still believe my father was so angry at the government the night he died that he wasn't concentrating on walking down the steps."

"You still blame the government for your father's trip?" Matthews asked.