Page 42 of The Presidents Shadow

“Hephaestus,” repeats Tapper. “That’s a Roman god.”

“Not quite,” Professor Singh corrects him. “A Greek god. The god of fire and volcanoes, among other things. Hephaestus was also incredibly ugly, so I found it to be an odd choice.”

None of us needs further interpretation to make the connection between the recent natural disasters and the power of Hephaestus. The similarity is obvious, maybetooobvious.

Now Langi Singh begins the most astonishing part of her story.

She says that on the morning of the Copenhagen awards ceremony she received a text message that has haunted her ever since the tsunami, the words never leaving her mind.

Ignore me today and you will never ignore me again

My plan will succeed today. You will see and suffer

At the award service all attendees will be awarded with pain

As we all confront the content of the message, the hospital room becomes silent except for the soft whirring buzz of the medical machinery.

Finally, Margo asks, “So you avoided the award ceremony because of the message you received?”

“Perhaps that text was the reason,” she says, shrugging. “I am a woman in a competitive field. Threats are not unknown to me. I hated the idea of bowing to him, or even giving this madman enough credit to take him seriously. I had my own studies to concern me, and so I chose to skip the ceremony and proceed with my work instead.”

“A wise choice,” I say. “And one I am glad you made.”

CHAPTER 59

OUR DILIGENCE AND energy are leading to some lucky breaks, but they are not trulybreakthroughs.What to do but keep on trying? What to do while the world stands on the very brink of destruction?

As the four of us ride toward Kastrup, the main Copenhagen airport, Margo says, “The world is completely on hold. People are frozen in decision-making. Should we have a baby? Should we plan a holiday? Should we get married? No one is planning their future, because they don’t know if any of us has one.”

As we all pass through the private government security gate at Kastrup, I receive a text from Dr. Anna DaSilva:Conditions in Australia worsen. Deaths increase. Confusion reigns. Talk very soon.

Dr. DaSilva’s news is so simple and so depressing that we barely discuss it as we take our seats on the plane.

A few minutes later an attendant approaches us, I assume to take our beverage order.

Instead she says, “The captain is coming back to speak to you.” Sure enough, the captain appears within seconds.

“Mr. Cranston. We have been blocked from takeoff. I have no special information, but air traffic has informed me all aircraft must stay grounded. This is a worldwide order, because of a dynamic breakout of Newbola—”

Burbank interrupts. “Newbola? What the hell is that?”

“It’s the virus spreading—that is on the verge of becoming a pandemic. You don’t know about it?”

Margo says, “Yes, we know about it. We just didn’t know it has a new name. I thought it was called Austravid.”

“The media must have rechristened it as Newbola,” I say. Then I ask the captain to continue.

“The Newbola virus has shown up in Venezuela, Detroit, Honolulu, Moscow, Melbourne, Tokyo—it’s everywhere. So far, the death toll is low. But no one wants to take any chances. Nobody is being let in or let out of anywhere. The world has been shut down.”

As I look at my companions’ faces, I know they are having the same thought I am—we’ve recently been in some of those places.

“Is it possible that we could receive some sort of special clearance?” I ask the captain.

“Queen Margarethe is sitting on the tarmac a few thousand yards away from you,” the captain says in answer. “She’s supposed to be on her way to an audience with the pope.”

Well, if the queen can’t get off the ground, I’m sure Lamont Cranston can’t, either.

CHAPTER 60

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