For the briefest of moments, Hammond looked puzzled; then he quickly said, “Two Apache helicopters were dispatched minutes after the crash. Our choppers easily caught up with them. We got them all.”
There was a reason White was a great poker player, why he’d finished in second place a few years back during a World Series of Poker event in the Bahamas. He was good at spotting microexpressions, the subtle subconscious clues someone gave out when he was lying or being dishonest—just as Hammond had a moment ago.
For whatever reason, General Hammond had chosen to lie to him. And White had no idea why.
PART TWO PRESENT DAY
CHAPTER SIX
The Ritz-Carlton
San Francisco, California
Clayton White raced up the elegant spiral staircase that led to the second floor. The balcony, which encircled the majestic ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton San Francisco, was the perfect vantage point from which to oversee what was happening among the four dozen round tables set for tonight’s event. Located near Union Square, the hotel’s nine-story 1909 landmark building was a stunning tribute to beauty. The cable car stop just outside the modern yet timeless lobby made the Ritz-Carlton the perfect place from which to explore the city. The hotel’s location was one of the main reasons the Society of American Archaeology had picked it for its annual awards gala.
White spotted Special Agent Marcus Thompson the moment he reached the balcony level. Marcus, a bald Black man dressed in a tuxedo who towered well over White’s own six-foot frame, was standing behind the cast-iron railings at the edge of the balcony, looking down toward the ballroom, his powerful arms crossed over his chest.
“How are things, Marcus?” White asked, approaching the man from behind.
“Nothing unusual to report,” Marcus answered without looking back.
White leaned against the railings next to Marcus and took in the elite crowd gathered in the ballroom. He felt like a king overseeing his subjects. The floor was varnished wood, and magnificent crystal chandeliers lit the space with a fairy-tale glow. White scanned the tables, each adorned with a spotless white-linen tablecloth, each with eight to ten people sitting around its edges, all beaming at each other. These people were the best and brightest in their field. They were the true superstars of the archaeology world, but only a minuscule percentage of the American public would ever recognize their names or appreciate their accomplishments. Their faces, with the exception of that of White’s protectee, would never be seen on the covers of gossip magazines, but their names were celebrated in certain scientific circles.
Despite the seemingly jovial ambiance, White wished he had more Secret Service special agents at his disposable. As the special agent in charge of Veronica Hammond’s protective detail, White had the power to order more agents to San Francisco. But Veronica had been adamant. She wanted to keep a low profile. He had, of course, insisted, enumerating the reasons having more than six agents on the trip wasn’t a luxury, but she had threatened to refuse Secret Service protection entirely if he pushed any further. Veronica, the only daughter of Vice President-Elect Alexander Hammond, had that privilege. And, as White had learned a long time ago, Veronica didn’t bluff. So he’d backed down. It was better to have a six-man team than no team at all.
“I’ll go see if she’s ready,” White said to Marcus. “I’ll send someone to relieve you so you can grab a quick bite before this thing starts.”
“You think she’ll win?” Marcus asked, looking at White for the first time.
“I don’t know, but she certainly deserves to,” he said before heading back to the staircase and starting down.
Four months ago, Veronica, an archaeologist specializing in aerial archaeology, whose work concentrated on observing some of the earliest traces of human activity from the air, had released a beta version of Drain, a mobile application she had developed in collaboration with SkyCU Technology, a Silicon Valley start-up. Drain enabled the public to check high-resolution satellite imagery for signs of looting or previously undiscovered archaeological remains—the satellites could even see through one hundred feet of water. Hence the app’s name: long-hidden sites became as visible as if the area had been drained of water.
Since its launch, more than seventy-five thousand users from twenty-one countries had flagged some five hundred new sites, including two underwater Aboriginal sites off the Australian coast. Those two sites, the first confirmed underwater archaeological sites found on the Australian continental shelf, had raised so much enthusiasm among the archaeological community that Veronica had decided to lead the expedition herself. Thanks to her hard work and her immense popularity on social media, she’d had no trouble securing the necessary funds. A news crew from a specialty TV channel had even embedded itself in Veronica’s team to cover her first dive in Australian waters. They hadn’t been disappointed. Within hours, the first of more than two hundred artifacts had been discovered, some of them dating back seven thousand years.