Last Gasp полностью

Prothero nodded gravely. "It's possible, Dr. Chase. It can be done."

"How?"

"You're the scientist, you tell us. Surely it isn't beyond the wit of man to devise the means of saving this planet from extinction? The misuse of technology has brought us to this state; therefore technology, properly applied, can rescue us. You must believe that."

Chase had heard, and debated, this argument many times before. He said curtly, "There's no 'must' about it, Senator. Maybe it can, but there's the very real possibility that it can't. It could be too late."

Prothero plucked at his crisp white cuffs through force of habit. "Then we shall all perish," he said calmly. "If what you say is true. But I believe, quite passionately, Dr. Chase, that we at least have to try. We have to find a solution."

"A scientific solution."

"Yes."

"Without government aid."

Prothero nodded, his long tanned face stiff and without expression.

Chase was silent. Was this any more crazy than what was already happening to the world? In the face of governmental inertia and political funk it was clear that something had to be done. For if nothing was done, what was the alternative? He said quietly, "Have you the remotest idea of the cost of such an undertaking? The top line is a hundred million dollars, and I could go on adding noughts until you got dizzy. Have you considered that?"

"Funding is available." Ingrid Van Dorn smoothed her skirt and laced her slender white fingers around a blemishless knee. "We have obtained pledges and offers of support from wealthy individuals, trusts, and organizations. Money is not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"You're a scientist," Prothero said. "You have proved organizational ability. More important, from our point of view, you are known and respected and have an international standing. You could find and recruit the right people. They'll listen to you."

"You want me to head this thing?"

They looked at him without answering.

As for Chase, he could only gaze unseeingly at the sculptured horse/ soul in the center of the table, bathed in the room's discreet light. Did this preposterous scheme have a chance of succeeding?

"You do realize why it would be a serious mistake to make this public knowledge," Ingrid Van Dorn said. "The United States government would not look kindly on an independent research project on its own soil. For that reason we must proceed cautiously and in the utmost secrecy. For obvious reasons, neither the senator nor myself can be involved because of our roles as prominent public servants."

"Very properly you raised the matter of funding," Prothero said. "One of the biggest items of expenditure will be a research base large enough to accommodate several hundred personnel and all the necessary facilities. Also it will have to be isolated, hidden away somewhere. That's a pretty formidable specification," Prothero said, though he was smiling. "It so happens we already have such a facility, courtesy of the Defense Department."

"They're going to rent it out by the month?" Chase said tartly.

"No, it's entirely free of charge. The Desert Range Station at Wah Wah Springs in southwestern Utah. It's part of the MX missile silo complex that was abandoned a number of years ago when the Defense Department decided to phase out nuclear weapons in favor of the environmental war strategy. The total MX program came to eighty-six billion dollars, but it was outmoded before it was even completed. They left behind workshops, maintenance bays, living quarters, and plenty of room for laboratories and other facilities. What's more, the entire installation is buried under millions of tons of reinforced concrete in the middle of the Utah desert. The nearest town of any size is nearly a hundred miles away."

"You say it was abandoned, but wouldn't they leave a small military unit behind to keep guard?"

"As a representative of a Senate committee I toured the area in 1997," Prothero said. "It's an empty shell. There isn't a soul there."

Ingrid Van Dorn said, "We've mentioned the need for secrecy, and I'm sure you appreciate the necessity. But there's another reason, one that might not have occurred to you."

"Which is?"

"You've heard of what the media call pyro-assassinations."

Chase nodded. "There was another in Paris last week. Claude Lautner."

"Lautner was an undersecretary in the French government with special responsibility for environmental matters. He was involved in negotiating the nine-nation Mediterranean Treaty to ban effluent discharge. The Treaty was to have been signed next month. The talks have now broken down."

Chase glanced blankly from one to the other. "What are you suggesting? Some kind of conspiracy?"

"These assassinations aren't random," Ingrid Van Dorn said. "Every target has been someone--scientist, politician, administrator--working to improve the environment in some way. They are too well planned and executed to be the work of lone individuals. There's an organization behind them."