by Paul Stein
“Yes, you do that, Richard. We have several more tasks to complete before the ultimate…” He stopped short, suddenly realizing that their connection was terminated. Kilmer, this time, was first to hang up.
Insufferable Aussie prick, Holloway thought. No one hangs up on me. He can kiss my ass if he thinks I’ll pay the bonus money we stipulated. His insolence just saved me a boatload of cash. Nobody screws me over!
THIRTY-THREE
STANFORD
02:30 HOURS
THE FLURRY OF LATE-NIGHT activity at 265 Lomita Lane was unprecedented for this quiet, scholarly neighborhood on the outskirts of the Stanford campus. There were police, paramedics, an ambulance, and a mobile news van that had all responded to Jarrod Conrad’s 911 call. Within minutes of that call, the private detective who had been following Sarah and Jeremiah recovered consciousness. He was groggy and barely able to communicate, his head severely wounded from the heavy blow by the unidentified assailant. When the first police car arrived, the officers dispatched paramedics to address his injury, and an ambulance subsequently arrived to rush him to the hospital.
Several small clusters of neighbors watched with keen interest all the commotion surrounding Dr. Conrad’s house. Flashing beacons shot alternating red and blue lights along the street, creating the surreal look of a CSI television crime show. The curious bystanders watched intently as the paramedics loaded an injured man into the ambulance, one paramedic passing the IV bag he was holding over the patient’s head to help his partner push the gurney inside. With the patient properly secured, the paramedics closed the doors and the ambulance sped away from the scene.
After calling 911, Ryan, Sarah, and Jarrod came to a hasty decision. If Ryan were discovered at the scene, PAPD would immediately place him under arrest. With outstanding warrants in New Mexico and California, Ryan’s only practical choice was to remain on the run. Moreover, they all agreed it was pointless to deny their presence at Jarrod’s because the injured private detective would eventually divulge his observations prior to being attacked.
“Okay, here’s my suggestion,” Jarrod stated, after analyzing their situation. “I’ll inform the police that you both took off in pursuit of Jeremiah’s kidnapper; that even over my strong objection, you believed it wasn’t in Jer’s best interest if Ryan was incarcerated. This should divert any initial suspicion we’re in this together.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Sarah remarked. She had unexpectedly announced that she would accompany Ryan and was adamant about coming along. Even though she’d be aiding and abetting a fugitive, her maternal instincts overrode her more sensible judgment and there was simply no changing her mind.
“In any case, the kidnapper will at some point make ransom demands,” Jarrod continued. “When this happens, I’ll feed you information via email or cell. That way, you’ll have the latest scoop and stay ahead of the police.” Jarrod had likewise warmed to this foolhardy decision primarily because he, too, now believed Jer’s kidnapping wasn’t a random occurrence. The events of the past several hours left him little doubt that a master conspiracy was afoot. The facts left no other deduction.
“I appreciate your help,” Ryan began haltingly, realizing for the first time that to find Jer, his only hope was to trust Jarrod and immediately begin pursuit. Even though the leads were sparse, they all agreed that chances of finding Jer were much greater if Ryan remained free; too much precious time would be wasted convincing the police of a conspiracy.
“Think nothing of it, Ryan. These bastards are messing with family. This is personal now.
“Here, take my spare laptop,” Jarrod instructed, handing the IBM notebook to Sarah. “And be sure to remove the battery from your iPhone. The police will use the phone’s embedded GPS technology to track your location.”
Sarah took the laptop and gave Jarrod an affectionate hug. “Thank you so much, for all your help. Please keep in touch. Let me know the minute you hear anything,” she said, her voice quavering.
Ryan and Sarah left Jarrod’s house just before the first police car pulled up. The responding officer coordinated medical attention for the injured PI then took Jarrod’s preliminary statement. Jarrod asked that Lieutenant David Morris be contacted because he had conducted the previous investigation at the Quantum Building, which seemed very likely connected to this latest crime. Lieutenant Morris arrived shortly thereafter.
“Good evening, Dr. Conrad,” Lieutenant Morris said, extending his hand to Jarrod as he stepped onto the porch. “I’m sorry to see you so soon after the break-in at your lab.”
“I can’t say that I’m thrilled to see you either, Lieutenant,” Jarrod replied, motioning that Morris follow him into the house. “Had you predicted this when we first met, I’d have thought you’d taken leave of your senses.”
“I hear you’ve had more trouble with another family member. When it rains, it pours, eh,” Morris said sympathetically. “The responding officer’s given me your preliminary statement. What else can you tell me about what happened?”
“Recent events suggest a much more sinister plan than I was at first willing to accept,” Jarrod started. “I no longer believe my cousin could be involved in the previous theft…or his son’s kidnapping this evening.”
Jarrod spent the next few minutes recreating the events of the past few hours for Lieutenant Morris. His statement started with catching Ryan in his house and ended with Jer’s stunning abduction. He theorized that someone acquainted with the gravity technology was most likely behind the plot, and ventured that the same person orchestrated both the break-in at his office and the vandalized crane in Taos. The revival of the longstanding feud with his cousin was merely a subterfuge to hide the identity of the real perpetrator.
“Okay, tell me a little bit about this antigravity machine, Dr. Conrad,” Morris said, sitting on the couch while making notes on a small pad he took from his inside coat pocket. “The last time we spoke I gathered that your device needs a source of uranium or plutonium to operate…is that correct?” he asked with an inscrutable look on his face, staring intently at his notepad.
“You’re correct. In simple terms, the machine works much like an electric generator. But what does that matter?” he asked looking suspiciously at Lieutenant Morris.
“Well, Professor, just hours ago there was a break-in at the Lawrence Livermore Lab. Several guards were killed and there was a great deal of damage. Those responsible made off with a substantial amount of nuclear material. The lab estimates there could be as much as twenty pounds missing,” he said casually, looking up from his notepad to get Jarrod’s reaction. “What would a twenty-pound core do in your contraption?”
“Judas Priest! Tw…twenty pounds…are you kidding me?” Jarrod stammered, dazed by what he was hearing. “I mean, it’s all still theoretical, of course…we’ve done preliminary tests. But if the machine works like the tests we’ve run, you could lift a frigging building with a twenty-pound core!”
Forgetting all about the investigation, he began pacing about the room, lost in the possibility of that amount of nuclear fuel in the antigravity machine.
“Well, let’s be clear,” Morris replied, shifting his body so he was now sitting on the edge of the sofa. “So far, there’s no direct connection to the thefts at the Livermore Lab or the Quantum Building. There seem to be similarities in the modus operandi, but nothing concrete at the moment. I’ve been conferring with Special Agent Jason Henry from the Defense Department since the theft at your office. He shares my concern. Henry’s been questioning your partner, Dr. Penburton, since the break-in at your lab. It seems suspicious that we first have the theft of your gravity machine, which requires uranium, and now the theft of a massive amount of the very stuff it needs to operate. Doesn’t that strike you as more than a little coincidental?”
“Welcome to the game, Lieutenant,” Jarrod said triumphantly, raising his hands over his head like a referee signaling a touchdown. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you
. This whole business is a complex, closely guarded conspiracy. I don’t know who’s behind it…but they have the resources, personnel, and inside information to pull it off. The Livermore information proves my suspicion of a mastermind manipulating every move. My cousin and I are just pawns,” he said, confident that the lieutenant was slowly realizing the truth in what he was saying.
“Don’t get too far ahead, Dr. Conrad,” Morris cautioned. “Coincidences are sometimes just that. We’re looking at all the facts surrounding both incidents, and it may turn out they have nothing in common. A local terrorist group has claimed responsibility for the Livermore incident but the State Department hasn’t yet received any demands. Agent Henry thinks your partner knows more than he’s letting on. We may need to get you together with Dr. Penburton. Do you have a problem with that, Professor?”
“Not at all, Lieutenant. I’ll meet with whomever, whenever, to figure out who set up Ryan and me. But I’ll tell you this…” he said, pausing momentarily to let Morris catch up with his note taking, “at some point whoever’s behind this will need my help getting the device working. I’m certain that’s why they took Jeremiah. When they call, they’ll use him as leverage to force my cooperation in operating the machine. I’m the only one that knows the firing sequence; it wasn’t in any of the information they took. Someone’s really pissed off just about now.”
“Wait a second…you’re telling me they didn’t get everything to make the machine work?” Morris looked perturbed that Jarrod had withheld this information during questioning of the Quantum break-in.
“They took all the data to configure the machine, Lieutenant,” Jarrod haughtily replied, sensing that Morris hadn’t distinguished between the subtle differences in what he had earlier told the police. “The formula to properly sequence the flow of electricity through the nuclear core is on a completely different system. The device is useless without the operating system and I’m still the only one who has it.”
“Well, now, it seems the old axiom about not keeping all one’s eggs in a basket has been to your benefit, Dr. Conrad. Is there anything else you withheld during the first investigation?”
“Now, now…don’t take it personally, Lieutenant,” Jarrod responded, trying to defuse Morris’s umbrage. “I didn’t purposely withhold anything. The fact that the perpetrators didn’t get everything to make it work was, in my mind, irrelevant. They stole my research and I was pissed. Still am…”
“Okay, okay, let’s focus on the present situation, then,” Morris said.
“If it’s true that the same people who took my data also stole twenty pounds of enriched nuclear fuel, you’re coming close to a perfect storm here, Lieutenant.”
“How so?”
“We’ve only built small prototypes of the device, but the theoretical application is essentially limitless. With enough money, a person could produce an application either amazingly artful or incredibly destructive, depending on their intention.”
“What’s your point, Professor?”
Jarrod looked impatient. “Don’t you see? It’s why Agent Henry’s so interested in my research. The DOD wants to make sure the machine isn’t weaponized by anyone other than the United States. The seriousness of the situation can’t be overstated.”
“Well, I’ll talk to Agent Henry about that. Just now, that’s all for this evening, Professor,” Morris said standing up from the couch. “We didn’t talk much about your cousin, but I presume you’ll only tell me he’s still on the lam. He seems pretty hardheaded that way.”
“You said a mouthful there,” Jarrod smirked.
“Keep in touch, Doctor Conrad. The minute you hear anything new, I want to know about it—that includes your cousin.” Turning at the door, Morris added, “I’ll have one of our tech boys tap your phone…I hope you don’t mind.”
“No problem, Lieutenant. You’ll be the first to hear about any contact. Goodnight,” he said, closing the door.
Jarrod was standing alone in his house for the first time since he discovered Ryan in the hallway, and it wasn’t ten minutes after Lieutenant Morris left that his cell phone began vibrating. He looked at the LED screen, which displayed Private Call instead of a name or number. He glanced at the clock on the DVD, noting it was almost 3:00 a.m. Here we go, he thought.
“Jarrod Conrad,” he said. “Who’s calling?”
“Listen closely, Dr. Conrad. I’ll only say this once,” instructed the muffled voice. “If you ever want to see Sela Coscarelli again, you’ll follow my instructions to the letter. You are under surveillance. Do not contact the police. Some men will be at your front door as soon as PAPD clears the area. You are to accompany them without difficulty or Dr. Coscarelli will suffer the consequences of your resistance.”
Before Jarrod could respond, the connection was broken. He was stunned. Sela’s in danger. They’ve kidnapped her, too…. He felt as though he’d been kicked in the groin. He was unprepared for this latest turn of events.
His feelings for her, carefully secreted away in the recesses of his mind and heart, came welling to the surface like a mighty underwater explosion. How could anyone think of hurting Sela? She was the only woman he had ever truly loved. Jarrod felt heartsick; his chest literally hurt from the thought of her being ill-treated.
For the first time Jarrod realized how Ryan must have felt when he faced losing Sarah. My God, he thought. How could I have been so spiteful? The last tendril of doubt about a possible conspiracy vanished from his mind. Whoever was behind this plot had now abducted both Sela and Jer.
This means war, he thought. I’ll die before I let anything happen to either of them. Whoever’s behind this has made a grave mistake underestimating my resolve. No one messes with my family.
Hearing the news about Sela sent Jarrod into a frenzy of activity. He needed to quickly prepare himself before the kidnappers showed up. He went immediately to his office computer and sent Sarah an email message:
Urgent! Kidnappers made contact. They’ve taken Sela! No information on Jer. Taking me to undisclosed location. Stand by. Be careful…
He opened the laptop containing the firing sequence for his antigravity technology and entered a new password. He then placed a termination code on the password that would shut down the computer if the word was not correctly entered within twenty seconds of booting the operating system. He hoped this tactic would buy him time; he had no intention of introducing the firing sequence on the machine until he knew for certain that Sela and Jer were safe.
Completing his work on the laptop, he next called Niles Penburton. When the phone went to voicemail, he left a message: “Niles…its Jarrod. I’ve been contacted by the people who broke into Quantum. Someone else is behind this; it wasn’t my cousin. They’re taking me to an undisclosed location to run the gravity generator. Call Jason Henry. Tell him the Livermore Lab heist was done by these same people. They’ve also kidnapped Sela Coscarelli. I need your help. My email is up…” he said, ending the message.
A sharp knock at the door seized Jarrod’s attention. He grabbed the computer and proceeded to the front of the house, not knowing if or when he might return.
“What do you want?” Jarrod asked from behind the closed door. He peered through the small peephole and spotted two men standing on his front porch. Both were dressed in black jumpsuits. It was plain to see they would not be easily mollified.
“Sir, open the door. You’re to accompany us without any trouble. I believe you received a call to that effect a moment ago,” Colt Hamil replied pointedly.
Jarrod opened the door. “Yes, I’m to go with you without questions or a dear friend of mine will ‘suffer the consequences’ is I believe how it was put,” Jarrod replied more bravely than he felt, trying to not act intimidated.
“Shall we go then, Dr. Conrad?” Colt asked. “We’d appreciate your cooperation.”
“Spare me the pleasantries, son,” Jarrod shot back. “Don’t misconstrue my lack of resistance. You guys have no idea how much
trouble you’re in. You’re simpleminded killers, and have now added kidnapping to your list of crimes.”
“Opinions vary, sir,” Colt succinctly replied, backing up a step and holding open the outer door. “Please leave the computer behind… and the Blackberry. You’re not to bring any communication devices.”
“Obviously you need me to run the ignition sequence you stole from my office. To do that I’ll need this laptop. Without it, I’m of no use to your master,” he said with a sneer, purposely demeaning their position. “Oh, and lest you think you can simply take the computer…think again. Not only is the computer password protected, but it will automatically destroy all the files if it’s not properly encoded within seconds of booting the system. So, what now, geniuses…computer in or out?”
“Bring the computer, but the Blackberry stays. That’s non-negotiable, Professor,” answered Tom Starkovich. “Now, if you’ll please come this way, sir, we need to get moving,” he said, grabbing Jarrod as he finished locking the door behind him.
These two are military, Jarrod thought, as he followed the two men to a black windowless van that was parked across the street from his house.
He searched for as much evidence as he could manage in the short time it took to move to the van: the fact that they didn’t respond to his insults; the way they addressed him as ‘sir’; the polite efficiency with which they conducted themselves; the fact they made a decision about the laptop without hesitating—it all indicated personal discipline and a high level of professional training.
Just as I thought—whoever’s planned this can afford the best. These are professional mercenaries. Not good…not good at all.
THIRTY-FOUR
PALO ALTO
4:00 HOURS
RYAN AND SARAH MARSHALL left Jarrod’s house in advance of the distant sirens, heading for nowhere in particular. After driving aimlessly for nearly thirty minutes, Ryan realized he had no idea what to do or where to go. His whole plan to this point had revolved around confronting Jarrod. He had not considered anything beyond their meeting.