"Did you know the President had a meeting with his Cabinet members today?" she asked.

"I imagine the President has a lot of meetings with his Cabinet," Minko said.

"But none of them ever involved kicking his vice-President out of the room during the middle of the meeting," she said.

The journalist listened to his source describe the scene of the day's Cabinet meeting. She described the rising level of tension between Marshall and Brighton and the subsequent explosion from the President.

After ten minutes discussing the relevant details, Minko thanked his source as always and hung up the phone. His earlier assumption was correct: he would not be finishing his article about the war veterans. Instead, he had a much better story that ended with exploding fireworks.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE.

JULY 20, 2016.

FOUR YEARS, ONE MONTH, TWO DAYS BEFORE IMPACT...

"For the construction and installation of the engines to meet your specific and very high standards, you're looking at a total cost of approximately $200 million, give or take $10 million," the representative from HQE said.

Tyler Ainsworth was pleasantly surprised; that number was less than what he projected. But that did not mean he was going to show the two representatives his satisfaction.

"That's nearly twice as much as we expected. And give or take only $10 million?" Ainsworth asked in a mix of anger and sarcasm. "I would say that's a pretty big cushion. Don't you think?"

As Ainsworth feared, he was dealing with two seasoned salesmen, neither one flinching during his outburst. It was obvious he couldn't haggle the price. But then again, this was not some used car Tyler was buying. The engines needed for his seacraft were a big deal, both literally and figuratively, for Ainsworth Industries and HQE alike. The only difference was that if Tyler passed on the deal, HQE had a large clientele they could move on to. Ainsworth had limited options where he could go for this kind of work and knew no other company that could produce what he needed as well as HQE. Therefore, Ainsworth had no bargaining chips.

"For the sort of project you need, I would say our deal is more than fair," one of the reps said.

Although it was futile to do so, Ainsworth continued to act as though he was annoyed by the proposed cost.

"Tell me about the engines," Tyler said. Tyler insisted that the meeting begin with the price, the part he was most interested to hear. Now that the dollars and cents were revealed, he was curious to see how the HQE designers formulated blueprints.

The representatives launched into an impressive presentation that covered the engine's specifications. It took less than three minutes for Tyler to wish he'd hired an expert to deal with these men. Just about everything they spoke seemed to be a foreign language to him. He stared at the graphs, charts and concept drawings and nodded his head on occasion. After ten more minutes of the presentation, the only thing Tyler managed to understand was that the engines were big. Very big.

Once Tyler stifled a yawn, he knew it was time to stop the physics lesson and cut to the chase. He glanced at his watch, waited a few minutes and then stared at his watch before holding up a hand.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you guys," he said. "This is quite fascinating but I already know half of what you're telling me and the other details aren't important, especially since I have another meeting I must attend. All I want to know is this: how fast will the engines allow my submersible to travel?"

One of the representatives flipped through dozens of charts before he found the one he wanted. He pointed to another complex chart that Tyler could not comprehend.

"Could I have it in layman's terms?" Tyler asked.

"A lot of it depends upon the construction of your craft's outer hull and the exact weight once it's completely loaded," the representative said. "But if everything has been constructed the way you say it has-"

"It has, I know that for fact," Tyler said. "Numerous experts have assured me the streamline design has been built to perfection, better than any submarine ever built."

"As I said, if everything is built the way you say, then surface speed of your craft with these engines should be approximately twenty knots," the rep said.

For someone who would be spending a lot of his future on the water, Tyler realized he probably should've learned how fast a knot was. For the first time during the meeting, Tyler looked at Marc but found his assistant wore a similar look of confusion.

Why would I think he would know anything? Tyler thought.

"Marc, let's see if you've been paying attention to the information I've been trying to teach you," Tyler said.

"What information do you-"

Tyler interrupted his assistant before the fool could expose his bluff.

"How fast is twenty knots?" Tyler asked.

"Uh, I'm not really sure, sir," Marc answered.

Tyler just shook his head, feigning disappointment. He pointed at the representative, as if telling him to inform Marc.

"It's approximately 25 miles per hour," the rep said. "When your craft is submerged, it should be able to travel around 25 knots, which is around 30 miles per hour."

Tyler again shook his head in disappointment; this time, he was not happy with what the rep had to say.

"For $200 million, I'm only getting 30 miles per hour?" he asked. "Our requirements for your design stated we wanted engines that could propel us no less than 40 miles an hour."

One of the men began furiously flipping through the charts and graphs. Apparently, they anticipated this kind of response.

"As you see from this chart, achieving your desired goal of 40 miles an hour is not a possibility," the representative said, as if Tyler understood what all the numbers and lines meant. "With a vessel the size and weight you've constructed, attempting to build engines any faster would prove far too dangerous. Theoretically, it could be accomplished but HQE could not guarantee safety or stability. Therefore, we would not attempt to build such a design."

This news was disappointing but Tyler was not too upset to hear it. After all, it wouldn't really matter how fast the seacraft could travel. Once the comet struck, there would be no place for them to go for a long time. The most important aspect of the engines would be durability.

Of course, that was based purely on whether Ainsworth Industries could somehow get the money needed to buy the engines in the first place.

"Well, gentlemen. Thank you for coming today. I'm truly impressed by what HQE has designed, even if the price is higher than expected. We still have other proposals to hear. Please tell your bosses that I'll be in touch very soon," Tyler said.

Tyler hurried out of the small conference room, leaving Marc to show the men out of the small room located on the second floor of the construction hangar. Less than ten minutes later, Marc arrived in Tyler's room aboard the craft.

"They were surprised to hear you hired someone else to design the engines," Marc reported. "They tried to find out who the other company was, and didn't believe me when I told them I didn't know. Were you ever going to fill me in on that little secret?"

"Sometimes I wonder why I keep a fool like you around," Tyler said. "There is no other company. I just want them to think that so they sweat a little bit before hearing from us. We obviously don't have the money to purchase the engines yet, so maybe they'll get impatient while waiting and bring the price down by the time we get the money together."

"Speaking of money, have you thought how we can get it?" Marc asked. "We're down to the last few million and the guys working on the interior design are going to have to stop construction soon."

"Don't you think I know that?" Tyler snapped. Now that he heard from Marc about the reaction from the representatives of HQE, Tyler wanted his annoying assistant gone. But Marc, as usual, did not take the hint.

"Maybe you could go back to your secret investors and get more money from them," Marc suggested.

That was the last thing that Tyler wanted to do and the last thing he needed to hear right now. His plans for how to raise this money were almost non-existent but he refused to cave to the government and give them total control.

"That's out of the question," Tyler said.

"I know the government had something to do with the money we received," Marc said. "I don't know why you don't tell me everything. I'd be more than happy to speak with James Armour or Peter Mansfield on behalf of the company if you don't want to. I know their visits weren't just coincidental."

As much as he sometimes thought otherwise, Tyler knew Marc was not a total idiot, that he would eventually piece together the clues. Tyler just hoped Marc didn't figure out too much...

Hearing the names of the two 'Inner Circle' members infuriated Tyler, making him more upset about his troublesome financial situation. The fact that this came from Marc did not make matters any better.

"I have to speak with Nigel," Tyler said, standing from his desk and crossing his large room. When he reached the door to the seacraft's hallway, he noticed Marc following. "Your services won't be needed for this meeting. Go make some phone calls to other companies that design engines and tell them we might be interested in a new design, just in case HQE begins asking around."

Marc walked into the hallway behind Tyler and watched his boss disappear into Nigel's room. Marc knew what the two men would discuss was very important and very secret, two things that made Marc realize why his presence was not included.

"Are you crazy?" Nigel Huffington asked.

"I did spend some time at a rehabilitation clinic," Tyler answered, his joke not even acknowledged by Nigel.

'We've discussed this plan before and agreed against it," Nigel said. "Why would you consider going back to it now?"

"First of all, I never agreed against it the first time," Tyler said. "You were the one dead set against the plan, not me. If the government hadn't interceded when they did, chances are we would've been forced to do this years ago."

"It's always the government causing problems for us," Nigel said.

Tyler knew he should not have used the 'g' word in front of Nigel. He needed Nigel to stay focused and that meant stopping him from going on a rant about the government.

"We don't have any other options at this point," Tyler said. "I realize this plan is risky but I don't see any other way to raise a quarter of a billion dollars in such a short time."

"Risky? That's all you can say about it? That it's risky?" Nigel said in disbelief. "I think potentially disastrous is more like it. After all, we've been so careful to keep the seacraft's true purpose a secret from everyone. You haven't even told Marc everything and you've trusted him with everything else along the way. But now you want to tell dozens of strangers and trust they'll keep the secret?"

Tyler shrugged. He knew Nigel was correct about everything but there was no other way to handle the situation.

"We've known all along we'd have to tell the secret to certain people," Tyler rationalized. "We'll just have to make that moment earlier than expected."

"And what happens when these people go to the press?" Nigel asked. "Some of the people on your list own the press; the rest have easy access to any and all major television networks and newspapers across the country."

"You can leave that part to me," Tyler said. "Every person, no matter how wealthy or famous, can be made to keep quiet."

"But what about the government?" Nigel asked. "Don't you think they'll find out about your plan? They could be..." Nigel lowered his voice to a whisper. "...they could be listening to us right now."

"We have no choice," Tyler said. "Precautions will be taken to avoid government interference. I'm tired of trying to figure out other ways to raise money when the plan we already have is the most feasible."

"But I'm sure if we think hard enough, we could-"

"The time for thinking is over," Tyler said, interrupting Nigel. "It's time for action, no matter the consequences. I'll begin to arrange plans tonight. Hopefully, we'll have the necessary funds in place by the end of the year."

Now that Tyler's mind was made up, he did not want to hear a single word spoken against his plan. He left Nigel's room before the small man could continue voicing his displeasure.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

AUGUST 1, 2016.

FOUR YEARS, THREE WEEKS UNTIL IMPACT...

It was nearly a month since John Fare's father received word that Colin was a lock to win the full athletic scholarship to the Zwier Academy. The baseball coach and athletic director from Zwier already spoke with Colin's middle school coaches. All were mightily impressed with the combination of Colin's baseball skills and positive attitude. And it just so happened that one of the guys Colin played ball with at his nearby field was on the Zwier team and had put in a good word as well. Once Colin breezed through his private tryout (which his father knew nothing about), it was a matter of time before John's father gave the two boys the good news.

But as with most good things in Colin's life, there was still a chance his father could ruin everything. Although the scholarship was his for the taking, Colin still needed his father's approval. He needed his old man to fill out a bunch of forms stating they were poor enough for Colin to qualify for the free ride. This was the part of the application process Colin dreaded most, which was why he put it off for so long. With the start of the school year only a month away, Colin finally reached the point where he had to tell his father or risk losing the chance of a lifetime.

When he rode his bike toward his house and saw his father's pickup truck parked in the driveway, he felt nervous tension in the pit of his stomach. Either way his father reacted to the news, Colin would know in the next ten minutes which direction his future was headed. After nearly an entire minute of just standing in front of the door, his hand reaching for and pulling away from the knob a dozen times, it finally took some prodding from an external force for Colin to go inside.

"Don't be so worried," John said, finally tired of waiting for his friend to move. "This is a good thing, you getting into Zwier and all. No matter how evil your father can be, he can't be so bad to deny you the opportunity of a lifetime."

John was one of the most intelligent people Colin knew but his friend could also be very nave at times. And this was definitely one of those times.

"Don't be so sure about that," Colin said. "The only reason I got into Zwier is because of how poor me and my dad are. He won't be happy to hear that."

"That's not the only reason you got in," John said. "You have an incredible talent for baseball, too."

"A talent my father doesn't know about and would think useless anyway," Colin said. John refused to listen to negativity.

"And poor isn't the choice of words we should use when we tell him about the scholarship," John said. "Just make sure to follow the plan we talked about earlier and you can let me handle explaining the financial part."

Colin was surprised when John insisted he be there to tell his father about Zwier. Ever since Colin knew him, John was such a shy kid, usually afraid of his own shadow let alone the monster that Colin's father often turned into. But ever since John's parents divorced, the shy, quiet kid became boisterous and almost insolent when it came to dealing with adults. Colin wasn't sure which side of John his father would hate more: the shy one or the brazen one. Either way, they were about to find out.

When Colin opened the front door, he found his father in his normal spot on the beat-up recliner in front of the television. The volume was loud, exactly as his father liked it, and there was already a small pile of beer cans sitting on the dilapidated coffee table. Without turning to see who was entering his house, Colin's father yelled the moment the front door opened.

"Boy, I thought I told you to make sure the damn house was clean before you went out to mess around," he yelled. Colin knew his father was angriest after drinking a half dozen beers or so, the exact number of empties sitting in front of him. If Colin waited for another ten beers, his father might've been easier to deal with.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'll clean it up in a bit," Colin said.

"No, you'll clean it up right now," his father yelled even louder. He must have thought Colin was talking back to him, so he stumbled out of his chair and finally saw that Colin was not alone. "Oh, I didn't know someone was with you."

Although Colin's father seemed surprised to see John, he did not appear apologetic about the tone of voice used with his son. This was only the second time his father ever saw John, the first since they were much younger. He looked the small boy up and down several times before speaking again.

"Who are you?" his father growled.

"John Fare, sir," John answered coolly, approaching Colin's father with an outstretched hand.

Colin's father frowned, his eyes looking at the extended hand. Instead of shaking it, he turned around and plopped back down on the recliner, which rocked back and forth several times.

"What did I tell you about bringing people to the house, boy?" he asked. Colin was somewhat relieved that his father's voice had at least dipped below a yelling tone.

"I know, sir, but-"