The Rock by Robert Doherty Read Free Book Online

who commanded the soldiers outside.
    He scanned the picture of the older woman--Dr. Francine Volkers--implanting it in his memory. A professor at Columbia University in New York. Field of expertise: statistical projection, whatever the hell that was. Hawkins shook his head as he flipped the page.
    The second woman looked much too young to Hawkins to be on any sort of classified operation even if it just involved thinking. Debra Levy. A physicist, specializing in quantum physics and a whole bunch of other things that Hawkins had no idea what they meant. Hawkins had to smile grimly to himself. So far he was 0 for 2 in understanding exactly what these people did.
    He could figure out what the third civilian, Don Batson, did for a living, although why the man was here was as much a mystery to Hawkins as why he himself was here. Batson did consultant work for various mining corporations around the world. His specialty was geology, and in addition to the consulting work he was employed as adjunct faculty at the New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology with a secondary specialty of operations research.
    The Marine colonel was next and Hawkins read his military data with a quick scan. Colonel Tolliver. Commander of Battalion Landing Team 2 out of Okinawa. Hawkins's mind snapped to professional considerations. What did they need a BLT out here for? And how were the Australians reacting to that many U.S. troops on their soil? Tolliver was here simply because he was the commander of the closest American forces.
    The Air Force major-Spurlock--was a screen watcher from this station. Hawkins shook his head. He had an inherent antipathy toward someone in uniform, the same rank as himself, who normally got paid the same amount of money each month, but the most dangerous thing they did was use the stapler.
    So what had they seen on the screens here that was so important? Hawkins wondered as he glanced outside again at the large dishes.
    A Marine lieutenant tapped on the door. It was time. Hawkins stuffed his green beret in a side pants pocket and strode out of the room, the file folder under his arm. Stoic-faced marines with slung automatic weapons were spaced along the hallway and Major Hawkins responded to their snap to attention with a curt nod.
    Hawkins showed his ID card to the guard at the door and entered the briefing room. He noted the other people seated at the table as he made his way to the seat that had an index card with his name on it, matching the photos and data in the folder with the actual people. They eyed him with equal curiosity.
    Volkers appeared to be on edge, her fingers tapping on the desktop, her eyes flickering about the room. Levy sat perfectly still, her eyes only briefly sliding over to take in Hawkins, then returning to a point in front of her on the tabletop. Batson looked terrible-hungover and worn out. A stubble of beard didn't help his appearance.
    The door opened and a man in an expensive three-piece suit walked in. The newcomer was in his mid-forties, a slight puffiness in both the face and body showing the effects of a current lifestyle seated behind a desk. His hair was pure white and thick, combed straight back, a contrast to the slightly red face. The left side of the man's face was slightly concave on the cheekbone-an unsettling abnormality that Hawkins knew was the result of that bone having been smashed in and improperly cared for.
    Hawkins had immediately recognized him as Steven Lamb--the President's principal adviser in intelligence matters. Despite the suit and slack body Hawkins respected Lamb. He knew something that few others in the world of covert operations knew--Lamb had spent four years in the CIA running missions out of North Turkey into the former Soviet Union. He had been compromised on one of the missions and spent six years in a Soviet prison under horrible conditions before he was quietly exchanged back after the end of the Cold War. The broken cheekbone had occurred sometime