Heartland (32 page)

Authors: David Hagberg

BOOK: Heartland

8.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

He took a quick shower, changed his clothes, and opened a bottle of wine. The security manager rang as he was laying out the glasses and said there was a Ms. Janice Wilcox to see him.

“Send her up,” he said, and he went to the door a minute later.

She got off the elevator, and when she saw him standing there she hesitated.

“Are you going to stand out there all night?” he asked.

Her face lit up, and she hurried up the corridor. “Oh, Kenneth.” She smiled. “I'm glad to see you.”

He didn't know exactly what it was he was getting himself into, but it felt good, at last. Damned good.

For the rest of that busy fall and through the hectic, often grim months of winter, Newman recalled in detail those final hours preceding what came to be known as the Great Food Depression. Afterward, nothing was the same, nor would it ever be.

“We're going to want the truth here, this morning, Mr. Newman,” Senator Abrahamson from New York said. “And if you don't feel as if you can give that to us, then you might just as well get up and leave.”

Newman sat next to Hansen at the witness table in the crowded Senate hearing room. Janice had remained at the Watergate to watch the proceedings on television. Every few seconds a camera strobe would flash, and there was an almost constant murmur of conversation in here and out in the corridor.

Senator Abrahamson banged his gavel several times. “There will be order, or I will clear these chambers of spectators.”

The noise level dropped, and Abrahamson covered the microphone as he leaned over to talk with one of the other senators. A messenger had just come.

They seemed to argue, and a moment later the other four senators got up and came closer so that they could take part.

The noise level in the room rose even higher.

Finally Abrahamson turned forward and took his hand away from the microphone. “Mr. Newman, if you would step away from the witness table, there is someone
in the private chambers who would like to consult with you before we proceed.”

Pandemonium broke loose in the room. Hansen grabbed Newman's arm. “Stay here, Kenneth. I don't know what's going on, but stay here until we find out.”

Newman pulled away. “It's all right, John. I have an idea what this may be about.”

“If you will just follow the page, Mr. Newman, he will direct you,” Abrahamson's voice boomed.

All the reporters were talking and shouting at once, and Abrahamson was hammering his gavel.

Newman followed the page around to the back of the hearing chambers, down a short corridor, and into one of the conference rooms.

The President was there, perched on the edge of the table. Lundgren sat to his right, and to his left were two men whom Newman did not know. The page closed the door, and Lundgren made the hurried introductions.

“Bob LeMear, FBI, and Michael McCandless, CIA.”

Both men nodded in turn, but Newman said nothing. He had expected Lundgren and perhaps the CIA and FBI. But not the President of the United States.

“Let's get quickly to the point,” the President said. “We don't have much time.” The others nodded. “Mr. Newman, I'm going to ask for your complete cooperation. Do I have it?”

Newman barely nodded.

“Good,” the President said. “To begin with, nothing that's said in this room will get out of here,” he said. “Do I make myself clear?”

Again Newman nodded. He knew what was coming. Or at least he felt he did.

“We need grain, Mr. Newman. Our corn shortfall
will be in the range of two hundred million tons.”

“We've been set up, Mr. President,” Newman said. “It was a Soviet KGB plot. I'm sure the Russians are ready and able to help us out.”

The President looked directly at him. “Then you don't know yet.”

Newman straightened up. “Know what, Mr. President?”

“About the failure of the Soviet crops, mostly wheat.”

“My God,” Newman said. “How extensive?”

“Very.”

“Then it backfired on Turalin,” Newman said. Turalin understood that his people could live on little more than wheat alone. Americans needed meat for their way of life. But Newman was also thinking now about the only other major corn producer in the word: Argentina. Her fields had been burned. Another Turalin plot?

“We want you to reorganize your company,” the President was saying.

Newman interrupted. “You don't understand, Mr. President. With our corn gone, and the Russian wheat failed, there is no other crop in the world.”

“Argentine corn,” Lundgren started.

“The pampas farmers burned off their fields.”

“Canada?” the President asked.

“Wheat. Won't replace our corn.”

“Europe?” McCandless asked.

“Europe can hardly feed her own people,” Newman said. “I can get bits and pieces here and there, Mr. President, but not two hundred million tons for us alone. The Soviets will need help, and so will the
Argentines, as well as the countries they normally supply.”

“We're certainly not helping the Russians,” Lundgren said, jumping up. “Christ, they brought this all on themselves.”

“We're going to have to,” the President said calmly. The others looked at him. “Or it will lead to war.”

Newman heaved a sigh of relief. The President understood. At least one man understood.

Lundgren was clamoring about something, and the President finally turned to him, and said, “Shut up, Curtis. Just shut the hell up.”

“I â¦” Lundgren sputtered, but he clamped it off.

The President turned back to Newman. “Go ahead and tell Abrahamson and his bunch anything you want, except the truth. I don't want to start a panic. When you're finished, we'll talk again.”

“This is going to have to be organized through the United Nations,” Newman said.

“What will be â¦” Lundgren started, but he shut up again when the President glared at him.

“It's the only way we'll be able to keep it fair.”

“Just one question,” the President said.

“Sir?”

“Is there enough food for everyone?”

“I don't know, Mr. President. I don't know.”

Also by David Hagberg
Published by Tor Books

LAST COME THE CHILDREN

HEARTLAND

The great agricultural center of America, where spacious skies overarch mile upon mile of amber fields of grain.

HEARTLAND

The Russians want it. They'll stop at nothing to get it.

This year they've found their weapon.

It will destroy far more than the targetâunless one man can stop them.

HEARTLAND

A novel as real as today's headlinesâ

As terrifying as the end of the world â¦ .

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DAVID HAGBERG is the author of
Last Come the Children
(Tor Books, 1982) and, as Sean Flannery, the author of
The Hollow Men, The Trinity Factor, The Kremlin Conspiracy
, and
Eagles Fly
, among other novels.

A native of Duluth, Minnesota, David Hagberg lives with his wife on the Gulf Coast of Florida and spends as much time as possible aboard their twenty-foot sloop.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

HEARTLAND

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, 8-10 W. 36th St., New York City, N.Y. 10018

eISBN 9781466813342

First eBook Edition : February 2012

First printing, January 1983

ISBN: 0-523-48051-2