Blue Hope: (Book 2) (Red Hope) Read online

  What a waste of time, he thought.

  Without warning, Chris’s door whipped open. An old homeless man with deep-set eyes and a long gray beard stared at him. The man said something, but Chris didn’t understand because of either a speech impediment or a thick accent.

  Leave here now!, Chris thought quickly.

  The man looked frustrated. He reached into his pocket.

  Chris flinched, accidentally put the car in neutral and gunned the engine. He went nowhere.

  “Crap!” he cried.

  Chris glanced at the old man and saw him remove two full rows of dentures from his pocket and insert them into his mouth. The old man laughed hysterically.

  “I’ve always wanted to meet you, Director Tankovitch.”

  Chris was in that rare mode where the body tells a person to run like hell, but the brain is just curious enough to ignore the brain’s signal.

  “Hello?” Chris said reluctantly.

  “It is me. Dmitri Stalov. You got my letter.”

  Chris was stunned.

  “You?” Chris asked suspiciously. “You’re Dmitri Stalov?”

  “Yes, I am. And I would like to buy you a coffee.”

  Chris flinched at the thought.

  “Why are you dressed like a...” Chris trailed off.

  “Like a homeless man?” Dmitri finished the thought.

  Chris climbed out of his car and plunked his arms on the roof.

  “Yes, like a homeless man.”

  “I dress this way because I am in the country illegally and nobody will give me the time of day. If you want to be ignored, just act like a homeless person. I am not truly homeless of course. I have a house nearby. Please, let's go get coffee.”

  Chris locked the car and walked around to Dmitri.

  Dmitri held out his hand. “Thank you for coming all this way. Glad to see you figured out my riddle.”

  “I did, but can you just tell me why you think NASA is looking in the wrong place for the Martian laboratory?”

  Dmitri held his finger up like he was going to say something profound.

  “Coffee first!”

  The two of them walked into a nearby coffee shop on the corner. The cashier saw Dmitri and smiled, yelling “Hi, John Smith!”

  Chris ducked his head toward Dmitri.

  “John Smith?” he whispered.

  “That's my unofficial American name,” Dmitri admitted sheepishly.

  “You’re full of surprises,” Chris said.

  They ordered their coffees and Dmitri paid with money pulled from a thick wad of cash. The two brought their cups to the outside eating area and sat down.

  Dmitri stirred his coffee slowly and took a sip. Too hot.

  “So, Mister Chris, tell me why you are sending researchers to the bottom of the Tonga Trench in search of the cure for cancer.”

  Chris looked shocked. Nobody outside of Alexis's inner circle and the president herself knew that the coordinates led to the Tonga Trench. Dmitri noticed the surprised look on Chris’s face.

  “Ha, I see you are confused,” Dmitri laughed. “I was once a very important man in the world. I still have friends in high places.”

  “I guess so,” Chris admitted. “So who are you?”

  “Like I said in the letter, I invented the CommKnock missiles. I did it twice. Once in my home country of Russia and then I did it again here.”

  “Wait,” Chris smirked. “You invented the idea?”

  “Yes, I hated the possibility that an accidental war would obliterate our species from the planet. So I came up with a foolish idea to make friendlier bombs and the people in leadership fell for it, thank God.”

  Chris looked confused.

  “So what are you doing here? Why aren't you in some think-tank in Washington... well, I mean the new Washington?”

  Dmitri put his coffee on the table.

  “I saved humanity from destroying itself. I don’t think I could ever top that accomplishment, no?”

  Chris laughed.

  “So you just became a hermit?”

  “No, I did not do that. I just disappeared.”

  “How long have you lived here?” Chris asked.

  “I've been everywhere in your country. I have seen every sight. I love this country. I move every year or so.”

  “How do you afford that kind of lifestyle if you pretend to be homeless?”

  Dmitri took a sip of coffee and laughed.

  “Like I said, I still have friends in high places.”

  Chris looked into his coffee. It was almost white due to the huge amount of cream he put in it.

  “If you think we are using the wrong reference point for longitude, then what is the correct reference point?”

  “My dear friend Mister Chris. Your team was so close.”

  “How close?” Chris asked.

  “You were off by thousands of miles,” Dmitri replied.

  “That's not very close,” Chris laughed.

  “I mean you were close with your idea, not the actual location,” Dmitri answered. “You chose the top of the highest mountain.”

  “That's right,” Chris confirmed.

  “But Mount Everest is not the highest mountain.”

  Chris leaned back in his chair with a smile.

  “Are you telling me that Mount Everest is not the highest mountain on Earth?” Chris asked with a devilish grin.

  “That is a fact,” Dmitri said. “It is not the highest. The top of Mount Everest is the highest point above sea level, but it is not the farthest point from the center of the Earth.”

  “Ha, that makes no sense,” Chris said.

  “Oh Mister Chris, the Earth is not a perfect sphere. It is fat at the equator, just like me!” Dmitri said with a huge belly laugh. “The Earth is wider at the equator. In fact, it is called the equatorial bulge by scientists.”

  “And?” Chris asked.

  “And there is a mountain in Ecuador called Mount Chimborazo. Being so close to the equatorial bulge puts it nearly two whole kilometers farther from the center of the earth than the top Mount Everest. You see, if you're looking for a landmark to set your starting longitude, that is where it should be.”

  “Mount Chimborazo, eh?” Chris confirmed.

  He had the urge to pull out his smartphone and confirm this crazy idea. Dmitri noticed Chris was processing all of this new information.

  “Go ahead, use your phone to confirm it.”

  Chris pulled out his smartphone and Googled Mount Chimborazo. Dmitri was spot on. The peak was much farther from the center of the Earth than the peak of Mount Everest.

  Chris stared at Dmitri with a look of dumbfounded awe.

  “Why me?” Chris asked. “Why are you telling me and not our cartographers?”

  Dmitri took a long swig of coffee and plopped the empty cup down on the table.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Dmitri asked.

  Chris squinted his eyes. “Should I?”

  “During my first year of living 'off the grid', as they say, I was in Ohio. I was bored. So I started an amateur astronomy group. One night we invited all of the locals to come out and observe Halley's Comet. In the crowd was a little boy who had the wonder of science in his eyes. He asked so many great questions. I knew he would do great things. And I have watched his career grow.”

  “Wait...” Chris said incredulously. “That was you that night? The guy sitting on top of the ladder telling us all where to look to find Halley's Comet?”

  “Yes, Mister Chris, that was me,” Dmitri admitted. “You crossed paths with that awful president and you lost out big time. I am giving you this information to help you rise back to the top where you belong.”

  Dmitri stood up and shook Chris's hand.

  “Mister Chris, have a safe flight back. Take the new information about Mount Chimborazo and use it wisely. I must go now.”

  “Will I hear from you later?” Chris asked.

  Dmitri shook his head.

  “No
,” he paused. “Well, only if I find you following the wrong path again. But I doubt that will happen.”

  Dmitri walked away. The bells on the door jangled briefly as he passed out of Chris's sight. The cashier looked up, then went back to cleaning his counter.

  When Chris left Arizona that evening, he had a mix of emotions. Should he be impressed that he'd unknowingly crossed paths with such an influential historical figure when he was just a boy? Or should he be impressed that such a person would entrust information about Mount Chimborazo to him.

  He arrived at DFW airport at midnight and immediately took the hour-long taxi ride back to western Fort Worth. The front gate to his hilltop neighborhood was broken and the driver went straight on through.

  So much for security, Chris thought.

  The taxi pulled up to his stucco clad house. Chris felt relief at being home again. He went in through the garage door and turned off the security alarm. The house had that smell that only comes from being away for a while. Before going to sleep, he went into his study and pulled the globe down from the top of his bookshelf. He reviewed some details that he'd scribbled down on the airplane ride.

  Chris grabbed some Post-it notes out of his desk drawer and placed the corner of one right at the location of Mount Chimborazo, just below the equator in Ecuador. He carefully counted out 100 degrees of longitude to the East of the mountain. Then he placed the corner of another Post-it note roughly 17 degrees south of the equator. The corner of the Post-it note covered part of Angola — the last remaining part that was still struggling with both conflict and poachers.

  That's not good, Chris thought.

  CHAPTER 41

  The large dining and banquet auditorium

  Science & Technology Center

  Sacramento, California

  Adam became a millionaire in just one week. By the end of two weeks, he'd made over three million dollars. As his speaking engagements moved Westward, the nightly income started increasing. His bank account was piling up with dollars. In the mornings, he would appear on the local TV news shows — the result of such appearances would be to sell out any remaining tickets left for the nightly speeches.

  Oliver, always one location ahead of him, would call after every speech and congratulate him on his newest tally.

  And every night, Connie would call him and ask him to take a break. Tonight was no exception.

  “Just a few more weeks,” Adam told her on the phone.

  “What if we came to visit you?” she would ask.

  “I don't think that would be worth it for you. After I speak I just go to my hotel room and sleep. Then I start driving to the next location.”

  “Well, surely Oliver could cancel just one of them so you could spend time with the kids.”

  Adam bit his lip to think.

  “I don't know. Oliver is putting in a ton of work in to schedule each venue. And if I cancel, that's money out of his pocket, too.”

  Connie grimaced.

  “Look, the kids are asking where their Dad is,” Connie cried with frustration.

  Adam's brow scrunched up with guilt.

  “Just a few more weeks,” he said, “and I'll be home for good.”

  CHAPTER 42

  NASA Jennings Manned Spacecraft Center

  Fort Worth, Texas

  Chris Tankovitch sat at his desk, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge of his keyboard. He stared at a globe covered with Post-it notes. Using the point farthest from the center of the earth now seemed obvious. All he had to do was convince his boss.

  “Here goes nothin',” he said as he stood up.

  Chris walked down the hallway to Alexis's office. She was on the phone and saw him standing there. Chris heard the final part of his conversation.

  “Okay, then it's a go. I'll be at the dock in two days. See you then,” Alexis said and hung up.

  “What's up?” Chris asked.

  “I was able to change the mind of the ship's captain for the Deep SEAK Explorer.”

  “The research boat with the deep-sea sub?”

  “Exactly,” Alexis said. “It went to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, so it should be good for the Tonga Trench, too.”

  Chris looked confused. “I thought you said their schedule was booked?”

  “It was,” Alexis said. “After we discussed the location in detail and I sweet-talked them, I guess they changed their mind.”

  Chris frowned with skepticism.

  “And did I hear you say you were going there?”

  “Oh, I plan to do more than that.”

  Chris looked confused.

  “You're going out on the boat?”

  “No, I'm going down in the sub,” Alexis replied.

  Chris looked stunned.

  “That's a bad idea. You should let the professionals take care of this. The president will never allow that.”

  Alexis shrugged her shoulders.

  “Already done. President approved. My support crew is already at the docks in Fiji.”

  “What?” Chris asked with incredulousness. “What if you get hurt?”

  She ignored his question.

  “Why are you here?” Alexis asked. “How did the lunch with your 'old friend' go?”

  Alexis winked at him.

  “It went well. We've known each other since I was a kid.”

  Alexis laughed.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Yes, really,” he answered. “Look, I have a question that pertains to your ocean voyage.”

  “Fire away.”

  “What if I told you that I think the longitude reference you're using is not correct?”

  “So, you think your idea is better than our entire cartography division?” she asked with thick sarcasm.

  “I just think it's worth revisiting.”

  Alexis walked up and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Let's talk about this when I get back. Right now I have a flight to catch. Now shoo!” she said, using her hand to make an imaginary broom pushing him away.

  As she walked down the hallway, Alexis added one more thing. “You're in charge while I'm diving to the bottom of the Tonga Trench.”

  “I'm official?”

  “Yes, you are the official deputy director. If anybody gives you flack, tell them they'll have to deal with me when I get back.”

  Chris returned to his office and plopped down in his chair. I should've told her the details, he thought.

  He spun the globe and watched it come slowly to a halt. Then again and again. An idea popped into his head.

  “What if I went on a little expedition too?” he asked himself.

  Chris called around to get some rough numbers on airfare costs for about six of his most trusted engineers and scientists. Airfare to Angola was infinitely high because no flights went there – too politically unstable. However, he was able to get flights to nearby Zambia. They could probably get transportation from there to wherever they needed to go, but it would also require security. After more searching, he found that hiring two security/tracker guides would run over a thousand dollars a day.

  Wow, this is adding up, he thought.

  His final total was just over thirty thousand dollars.

  Chris slumped in his chair, his fingers tapping nervously on his desk again.

  He called his division budget manager to casually ask about discretionary funding. It rang and rang.

  “Budget management, Fort Worth, this is Rick.”

  “Ricky!” Chris said with too much excitement. “Hey, I've got a question about some travel budget.”

  “How many people are going?”

  “Six of us.”

  Chris could hear Rick typing on a keyboard.

  “Where to?” Rick asked.

  Chris paused, afraid to answer.

  “Africa,” he blurted out.

  Chris heard the keyboard sound stop.

  “Africa?” Rick asked. “Like, you're flying to the entire continent?”

&n
bsp; “No, it would be Zambia.”

  “Friendly nation, I assume?”

  “Yes, it's on the approved list.”

  More typing sounds.

  “Well, I'll admit that's a strange request. International travel budget is tight these days. What's it for?”

  “An expedition,” Chris answered.

  “I assumed it wasn't for your health. I mean what's the exact purpose.”

  Chris leaned back in his chair and swiveled back and for to think.

  “Would my answer make a difference?”

  “Look,” Rick said. “I'm not sure what's going on here, but yes it makes a difference. If you're going for a conference, and I don't know why you'd go to Zambia for that, then you're approved for twenty thousand.”

  “That's not enough to cover our expected costs.”

  “Well, I'm sorry.”

  Chris spun his swivel chair around, thinking.

  “Ricky, what if I told you it was to check on some research for global warming?”

  “Hang on,” Rick answered, typing even more.

  “Well, then you'd be approved for fifty thousand dollars. Is that what it's really for?”

  “Yes, it's about global warming.”

  “All right,” Rick said with extreme skepticism. “I'll need to get approval from Alexis, though.”

  “She's on travel and I'm acting director until she gets back.”

  “Oh, then you can approve it, but you can't go.”

  “Why not?” Chris asked.

  “New federal policy. You can't approve an overall travel budget that includes you. Do you want the charge number opened or not?”

  “Yes, I'll take it,” Chris replied.

  “Done and…,” Rick said, followed by a loud click on his keyboard. “Done.”

  “Thanks Ricky.”

  Adam hung up the phone. His elimination from the trip was very disappointing. He spent that evening calling up six colleagues and explaining his theory about the true location of the Martian laboratory in Africa. They were all excited, but none volunteered to lead.

  As far as choosing a mission leader, Chris thought this would be a great opportunity for somebody who'd dropped the ball and might be looking for a little redemption in this big search for the cure for cancer. It was a somewhat dangerous mission, but he knew the perfect man for the job.