The Doomsday Conspiracy   ::   Sheldon Sidney

Willard Stone had not only approved his daughter’s marriage, he had encouraged it. His new son-in-law was brilliant, ambitious, and most important, malleable.

Twelve years after the marriage, Stone arranged for Dustin to be appointed Ambassador to South Korea. Several years later, the President appointed him Ambassador to the United Nations. When Admiral Ralph Whittaker was suddenly ousted as Acting Director of ONI, Thornton took his place.

That day, Willard Stone sent for his son-in-law.

“This is merely the beginning,” Stone promised. “I have bigger plans for you, Dustin. Great plans.” And he had proceeded to outline them.

Two years earlier, Robert had had his first meeting with the new Acting Director of ONI.

“Sit down, Commander.” There was no cordiality in Dustin Thornton’s voice. “I see by your record that you’re something of a maverick.”

What the hell does he mean? Robert wondered. He decided to keep his mouth shut.

Thornton looked up. “I don’t know how Admiral Whittaker ran this office when he was in charge, but from now on we’re doing everything by the book. I expect my orders to be carried out to the letter. Do I make myself clear?”

Jesus, Robert thought, what the hell are we in for here?

“Do I make myself clear, Commander?”

“Yes. You expect your orders to be carried out to the letter.” He wondered whether he was expected to salute.

“That’s all.”

But it was not all.

A month later, Robert was sent to East Germany to bring in a scientist who wanted to defect. It was a dangerous assignment because the Stasi, East Germany’s Central Security Secret Police, had learned about the proposed defection and was watching the scientist closely. In spite of that, Robert had managed to smuggle the man across the border, to a safe house. He was making arrangements to bring him to Washington, when he received a call from Dustin Thornton, telling him that the situation had changed, and that he was to drop the assignment.

“We can’t just dump him here,” Robert had protested. “They’ll kill him.”

“That’s his problem,” Thornton had replied. “Your orders are to come back home.”

Screw you, Robert thought. I’m not going to abandon him. He had called a friend of his in MI6, British Intelligence, and explained the situation.

“If he goes back to East Germany,” Robert said, “they’ll chop him. Will you take him?”

“I’ll see what can be done, old chap. Bring him along.