The Signal

by John Sneeden

  But as Marrese arrived in the cubicle and knelt to pray, he felt a surge of confidence. Within the next half hour or so, the collider would do its work, smashing particles together with an energy not seen since the Big Bang. That, combined with the dark magic that Marrese had put in place, would tear a partition in the heavens. Then, and only then, would the visitors arrive. And when they did, it would be too late for whoever was approaching outside.

  Pandora’s Box would be thrown open, and there was nothing that could reverse it.

  *

  Once Marrese walked away, Koehler turned to Mironov. “The Dutchman is right. If we increase the energy too quickly without checking the system, we could very easily blow this place sky high.”

  “I understand.” Mironov lowered his head down to the German’s ear and whispered, “Just do what you can, but we do need to move as quickly as possible. The Americans are here, and we need to get this done before they do any damage.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Koehler.

  As Mironov pulled away, there was a loud beep that came out of his coat. He reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a radio and pressed a button on the side. “Yes,” he said in Russian.

  “Sir, we just captured another woman,” said the voice of one of his guards. “This one was wandering around outside the building. She’s unarmed.”

  There was a long pause, and then a look of confusion spread across Mironov’s face.

  “What would you like us to do with her, sir?”

  “Where are you now?” asked Mironov.

  “We’re right outside in the lobby.”

  “Bring her in here.” Mironov looked down at Koehler and said in English, “It seems we have another visitor. Get this thing moving.”

  Just as Mironov finished his sentence, the door to the lobby burst open, and a blond-haired girl was shoved inside. She stumbled a bit before regaining her balance. The two Renaissance guards grabbed her roughly and threw her up against the wall next to the Italian.

  Mironov watched as a knowing glance passed between the women.

  “I see you two know each other,” Mironov said as he walked over to where the two were standing. The women remained silent. The Russian reached out and grabbed the blonde’s bicep through her coat. “I see the Americans brought in a highly trained and dangerous commando unit.” A few guards laughed as the blonde jerked her arm away from Mironov. “Feisty too. Maybe she is the team commander.” Again there was laughter, this time louder.

  “What are you doing here?” asked the Italian, clearly not happy at seeing her friend.

  When the blond American gave her an apologetic look, the Italian’s demeanor softened.

  “Yes, what are you doing here?” asked Mironov, in English. The American refused to answer. “I’m assuming you came to help your friends? Next time I’d recommend you come a little more prepared. You know, normally I would have both of you shot, but you’re too pretty for that. Actually, I’ll probably have that done later. For now, I’d love for you both to witness what is going to happen here tonight, the fulfillment of the very thing you came to stop.”

  *

  Carmen glared at Mironov. The appearance of Amanda had thrown her off for a moment, but the operative in her began to take over, and she realized it might help to engage the Russian, perhaps even stir him up. Distracting him might give Zane and the others time to act. “Shouldn’t you give this up while you still have the chance? Right now, you’re only facing kidnapping charges, and I’m sure you can pull enough strings to get out of Switzerland without landing in jail.”

  Mironov turned toward Carmen and caressed her chin with his hand. She tried to pull away, but his hand followed and caressed her again. Eventually he pulled it back and said, “I will do nothing of the sort, my beautiful Italian. Everything is almost finished, so why would I leave right before the fun starts?”

  “You do realize this building is now surrounded, don’t you?”

  “What I realize is that you’re lying,” Mironov retorted. He then gestured toward Amanda. “So far, this is the extent of the resistance we found outside.”

  “That’s only what you’ve been able to find. I probably should mention that the Swiss authorities are on their way as well.”

  Mironov smiled. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked. “The Swiss aren’t doing any such thing. We’ve been monitoring them all evening. In fact, I have people working within the Geneva police department. So you can save your lies for some other time. Besides… ” He paused to look back at Amanda. “If this is an example of what we’re up against, I’m pretty sure we don’t even need to lock the doors.”

  There was more nervous laughter around the room.

  “You know, there is another even better reason you should end this now,” Carmen said.

  “Oh really?” asked the Russian.

  “Look, you know this is a fantasy. Do you really believe what this Vatican reject has told you? Do you really believe in his science fiction? Think of the embarrassment back in your country when this is all shown to be a farce. Right now, even though you’re a murderer and a thug, at least your countrymen respect you. But if you push the button and then nothing happens, not only will you be taken into custody, but you’ll also have to live with the ridicule of such an embarrassing spectacle for the rest of your life. You’ll be the laughingstock of Russia.”

  Mironov's smile was replaced by a dark scowl. Carmen knew she had hit a raw nerve. She could see the Russian’s anger flare as he reached out and grabbed her neck, applying enough pressure to make her uncomfortable. “Don’t you dare call me an embarrassment… you Italian whore.” Carmen met his gaze and felt the pressure of his hands cutting off her ability to breathe. “And you mark my words—”

  Before he could finish, another beep sounded off from inside his jacket. He released Carmen’s neck, and she coughed twice. He pulled out his radio and held it close to his ear. The Russian paused for a moment, listening to the other person talk. He had a look of confusion on his face, but that look changed to one of suspicion. He spoke into the radio again.

  *

  Mironov stuffed the radio in his pocket and walked back over to Koehler, clearly bothered by what he had just heard. Leaning down, he asked, “Where are we now?”

  “The security check just finished, so I’m going to increase the energy level to ten TeV,” he said, clicking over to another screen.

  “Move it to fourteen, and do it quickly.” Fourteen was the highest energy level planned for the LHC, but one that scientists wouldn’t be ready to test for several more months.

  “What? You said—”

  “You heard what I said—Move it now.”

  “The energy shouldn’t be increased that much before—”

  Mironov wrapped his hand around a pistol that was hidden inside his coat pocket. Leaning up against Koehler, he pressed it into the German’s side. “You defy me one more time and you will be permanently removed from your post.”

  The word “permanently” was not lost on the German, who quickly made the appropriate entries. Several warning boxes appeared on the screen in sequence, and in each case, Koehler was required to click “OK,” acknowledging that all systems had been checked and that he was aware of the potential danger.

  The computer began to buzz with activity. Ten seconds later, a notice appeared indicating that the electromagnets were being initialized. The screen then went dark before transitioning to an animated representation of the LHC. The collider possessed two tubes that ran side by side for twenty-seven kilometers, forming a giant ring underneath the earth. A beam of energized protons was being transmitted inside each of those two tubes, one moving in a clockwise direction and another moving in a counterclockwise direction. The animated version on the monitor showed the two beams moving slowly then increasing in speed as the electromagnets began to do their work. Once the beams reached the desired energy, their paths would be crossed in four separate detectors, bringing about the desired c
ollision.

  “How much longer until we hit fourteen TeV?” Mironov asked.

  “In approximately five minutes,” Koehler replied.

  Mironov smiled as he watched the animated beams increase in speed on the monitor, a representation of the colossal collision that was about to take place almost two hundred meters below the earth. He didn’t particularly like taking the risk, but he also didn’t know how many Americans were still out there.

  It was only seconds later that it hit, a trembling that seemed to rise beneath the earth. It grew so intense that Mironov had to reach over and grab the wall of the cubicle. The guards throughout the room began to look around, not sure what to think.

  And then Mironov realized what was happening, and when he did he smiled. They were on the verge of victory.

  The tremor was coming from the collider itself, and that meant that the heavens would begin to part soon.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  AS HE HAD only heard and not seen the men approaching the parking deck, Philippe had no way to tell which stairwell they were coming up. He could still hear their voices below, but the echo effect made it impossible to determine which direction it was coming from. He probably wouldn’t know that until they burst out on his level, and by then it would be too late if he wasn’t hidden.

  He had briefly thought of crawling underneath one of the vehicles, but if they happened to choose the one he was under he’d be flattened like a crepe, unless he could somehow manage to crawl under another one before they pulled out.

  In the end, he did the only thing he really could do, which was to sprint back toward the first stairwell he had come up. He was about to enter it and travel up to the third level when he heard voices a few feet away. He had guessed wrong. The men were about to come out.

  His heart thumping in his chest, Philippe stepped over and hid behind a concrete column just outside the door to the stairwell. If the men came out and looked around, he would probably be seen, but if they moved immediately toward the vehicles, he would likely escape detection.

  Standing in place behind the column, Philippe held his breath and remained perfectly still, his shoulder only inches from where the men would exit the stairwell. Two seconds later the men came out, passing within inches of where Philippe stood. They seemed to be headed toward the vehicles, but then they stopped. Philippe could no longer hear any footsteps or voices, only silence. Had they seen him? Were they drawing a weapon? Philippe couldn’t see from where he was standing and didn’t dare peek around the corner.

  Suddenly the silence was broken by a clicking sound, followed by more cruel silence. His pulse racing and his palms sweaty, Philippe risked a look. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw something that caused him to let out a sigh of relief. The two men had stopped about halfway to the vehicles so that one of them could light a cigarette. That man’s head was tilted back as he blew a plume of smoke into the air.

  Philippe used the opportunity to slip into the stairwell. Yes, he risked being heard, but he also knew that if he waited until the men got to the vehicles, one of them might turn around for one last look.

  Once he was out of view, Philippe paused to listen for anything that might indicate he’d been seen. The men were still talking in low tones some distance away, probably an indication they hadn’t noticed him. Philippe decided to go to the third level instead of down. It seemed as though Mironov and his men were parked on the second level, which probably meant the next one up was empty.

  After sprinting to the top, Philippe saw that the third level was indeed deserted. He also realized it wouldn’t be a place that he could stay for very long. The exposed area was bearing the full force of the storm, with the wind blowing so strongly that the snowflakes were stinging his face.

  Philippe crossed over to the ledge facing the buildings. After getting down on one knee, he peered over the top of the concrete wall at the first one directly across the street. There were lights on inside, but they were dim, and it was almost impossible to see anything.

  Despite a runny nose, Philippe thought he smelled smoke, so he stood up and looked down over the edge. Directly below him were two heads sticking out of the second level. The Russians taking their smoke break were directly below him, arms resting on the ledge.

  After getting back down on one knee, Philippe felt something bounce around inside his coat. The monocular. He had almost forgotten about it. He pulled the instrument out, placed it against his right eye, and aimed it at the windows across the street. As he turned the focus wheel the interior came into view, but only dimly. He could see a massive cubicle with shadowy shapes gathered inside.

  Philippe was about to put it back inside his coat when he saw something moving over one of the buildings in the distance. The snow was turning in a strange way, almost like a miniature tornado. Lifting the monocular up to his eye again, he turned the focus wheel to account for the greater distance. He frowned, and his mouth opened ever so slightly. He was looking at one of the strangest things he had ever seen. The air above the buildings was indeed spinning with great velocity, sucking the snow into a large funnel cloud. The tip of the cloud bounced around on one of the buildings, perhaps the second one, almost as though it was performing some sort of macabre dance.

  Philippe knew immediately that it was not a meteorological anomaly, the odd converging of the various elements of the storm. No, it had something to do with what was going on inside, or more accurately, it had something to do with what was going on beneath the earth.

  Hit with a sudden thought, Philippe used the monocular to trace the funnel cloud upwards. It snaked up through the clouds and beyond, perhaps up into the atmosphere itself.

  As he prayed over what to do next, Philippe felt something else, a trembling that rose up from the ground and through the concrete structure on which he stood. Was it an earthquake? He had never experienced one before, but that was certainly the way he’d imagine it. But he knew that just as the funnel cloud had nothing to do with weather, neither did the tremor have anything to do with an earthquake. They were both related to the collider.

  And then, as Philippe bowed his head to pray, he had a vision that took place in the flash of a second. He saw a face that wasn’t human, but there was a quality to it, a nuance that he had seen somewhere before. The face was so terrifying that it caused his heart to thump wildly in his chest.

  But even worse than that was a truth that echoed in his spirit—that the vision would soon turn into reality.

  *

  “What on earth is that?” Amanda asked, clearly alarmed that the building had begun to shake. She and Carmen were still standing next to each other against a wall, being watched over by two of Mironov’s men. “It feels like the earth is moving underneath us.”

  “It must have something to do with the collider,” replied Carmen. “I just saw an exchange between Mironov and Koehler. They were having a disagreement about something, and it looks like the Russian won out.”

  Carmen had to admit that she was beginning to worry about the shaking too. At first she thought there might be some natural explanation, like a minor earthquake, but then realized it must have something to do with whatever Mironov and Koehler had been arguing about. She knew very little about physics and almost nothing about subatomic collisions, but she doubted that the collider was designed to withstand whatever it was being put through. They were obviously pushing it to places it was never meant to go.

  “Do they know what they’re doing?” Amanda asked.

  “I sincerely doubt it.” Carmen wanted to tell Amanda something to reassure her, but that didn’t seem possible. “We just have to hope that help will come before this gets out of hand.”

  “Where are Zane and the others?”

  “Hopefully, close by,” she replied in a low tone, mindful of the guards that were standing a few yards away. She placed her lips near Amanda’s ear and said, “Just remember that if something happens, follow my lead. If this place begins to fall apart, i
t may be our chance to get out of here.”

  Amanda nodded, but Carmen could tell that she was still nervous.

  “Don’t worry,” the Italian assured her. “Just listen to me, then we’ll both be fine.”

  Carmen glanced across the room in an attempt to catalog where everyone was positioned. The only ones she couldn’t locate were Marrese and his disciples. She figured they were likely gathered in one of the massive cubicles. She doubted they’d have to worry about them, unless they were hiding some sort of weaponry under their robes. If they weren’t armed, she doubted they could fight their way out of a teen slumber party.

  As the trembling continued, Carmen’s thoughts turned toward what Mironov and Marrese were attempting to do. It was the stuff of science fiction, and the real worry was what might happen if the collider was pushed past its limit.

  But despite those practical concerns, the Italian’s mind kept returning to the theory of calling the aliens. Could there be another universe out there? She had to admit she didn’t know enough about physics to rule it out. And if there were multiple universes, were they connected by some portal? Perhaps, but she doubted that the mere collision of subatomic particles could open such a portal.

  Yet, that was the very thing VanGelder had been researching, and the topic of the speech that would no longer be given. VanGelder was no fool. He was a man of science. And he apparently thought a parallel universe was as real as the subatomic particles that were whizzing around inside the collider.

  Snapping out of her thoughts, Carmen noticed that Mironov was on his radio again. There was a look of concern on his face. Had Zane and the others made some sort of attack? Had the shaking triggered an alarm and alerted local authorities?

  She didn’t have long to wait to get her answer: as soon as Mironov had tucked the radio back into his coat, the doors to the control room burst open, and the humanoid Keiko walked in, escorted by an armed guard. The look on the Russian’s face told her that the robot was no longer in his good graces.