Clara!
We have your transponder beacon locked aboard flight four-eighty-two!
What is your emergency, Chancellor?!”*
“Tyler has defected, Uncle David,” I stated with absolute, surgical detachment:
“He has Vanessa Sterling seated in First Class Two-B.
He announced his engagement over the aircraft public address system ten minutes ago.”
“He is connecting at O’Hare to an un-manifested private Falcon 8X bound for Geneva.”
“And he is carrying the master geodetic transfer protocols for Conduit Ten in his flight kit.”
“Mother of God,” Admiral Mercer breathed across the channel, his voice vibrating with lethal, un-forgiving fury:
“He breached the nuclear continuity transit ciphers?!”
“He believes he is delivering the physical analog keys to Arthur Sterling-Vance in Zurich at zero-six-hundred tomorrow morning,” I replied:
“I require the immediate activation of Task Force Caduceus.”
“Deploy the United States Marshals Service Special Operations Group, DEVGRU Red Squadron, and the immediate mobilization of the naval tactical transport from Great Lakes Naval Station.”
