by Robert Graf
She hesitated. Why not? "Your timing is impeccable. How about Chinese? There's a place near you that I like, the Hunan Village."
"Fine with me. Say half an hour?"
That's enough time to freshen up. "OK." This should be an interesting meal.
Ann eventually found an empty spot, parked and walked to the restaurant. Most tables were occupied by families busily eating and chatting, filling the room with cheerful noise. She spotted Isaac at a table against the wood-paneled wall. He raised his arm, beckoning her over. She threaded her way between the crowded tables and sat down across from him.
His tired, angular face beneath the curly hair broke into a smile. "Hello, Ann. It's been awhile, but you're looking well."
At least he wasn't wearing a cassock; the jeans and shirt were much better. She smiled at his awkward compliment. "Meaning I've aged well? It's been, what, twenty some years? You've managed to stay fit."
He shrugged. "I try." He opened his menu. "I'm famished. What do you recommend?"
The delicious odors drifting from the other tables had her drooling. "Everything except the sweet-and-sour," she answered; she didn’t need a menu.
A young Chinese woman, in a white blouse and gray skirt, hurried over.
"I'll have the Szechuan Prawns and the Assorted vegetables," Ann ordered.
“I’d like the Hong Kong-style Chow Mein with beef," Isaac said. "Oh, and a Tsingtao."
"A Tsingtao for me also, please," Ann added.
The waitress wrote their orders and whisked away the menus. “Right away.”
Ann studied Isaac: some gray, lots of wrinkles. Look who’s talking. “So, how did you end up being a priest? I mean a vow of poverty, obedience, and chastity? Whatever were you thinking?"
The waitress interrupted with the beers. Each filled the other’s glass. “Kampai,” Ann toasted, clinking her glass with Isaac’s, and took a long swallow.
"Technically, I'm not a priest; I haven't taken my Ordination vows." He shrugged. "I got disillusioned with the NGO I'd worked with for so many years. I was accomplishing nothing; there were just as many nuclear bombs as ever with madmen building more. I befriended a Jesuit on a similar mission. Interesting guy, the only wheelchair-bound priest I ever met." He took another long swallow. "To my surprise I enjoyed the religious aspect combined with the intellectual discipline and joined up. That was ten years back." He grinned. "Chastity's not so bad if you stay busy. Your turn."
She sipped her beer, mulling over his story. The notion of a celibate Isaac was mind boggling. "After doing post-doc work at UCSB, we scraped up seed money and formed a little company to develop a commercial product. We built a prototype and convinced a few people that it actually worked, but ran out of money. Then Global Communication bought us, and with their engineers and a lot of luck we built the system NASA is using in its Jupiter Project."
The waitress returned with their orders and served them. They concentrated on eating and didn't speak for several minutes. Isaac's efforts with the chopsticks amused Ann. He handled them well enough, though the slippery noodles gave him trouble. She gave up using them years ago; forks were much simpler.
Ann ate the last of the vegetables, finished her beer and sat back, content.
"That was delicious," Isaac said, laying down his chopsticks.
"Yes, the best Chinese in town." She was tired. "Isaac, what do you expect to do here? Half of the EntCom's in Houston, and the other is on its way to Jupiter."
His smile vanished, replaced by a frown or concern or...? She wasn't sure.
"Why didn't you tell me about the lab? It was a total shock when I found out."
She hesitated, embarrassed. "I'm sorry for that. I didn't think it relevant at the time. The EntCom survived the explosion and fire." Unlike the poor guards.
"You believe the Church is wasting its time?"
"Yes," she answered, watching him think.
"Didn't you say there was a prototype? Of course, it was in the lab. Pity."
Damn. Why had she even mentioned it? "Yeah."
"You could build another."
She shook her head, better cut that off. "It would take too much effort and money. It's served its purpose."
The waitress appeared and gave the check to Isaac. He glanced at it, pulled some bills from his pocket and handed them to her. "Keep the change."
"My superior thinks there's a chance NASA would let me have access. What do you think?"
"Never happen, especially when they find out its other capability, if they haven’t already. Don't you understand that your speculation doesn't matter? The news will be all over the Web in days. The whole world will know." And that scared her spitless.
He shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it, is there?"
We? She yawned. "Sorry, past my bedtime." She pushed her chair back and stood. "Thank you for dinner. I'll see myself out."
Isaac stood. "Good night, Ann."
She weaved her way through the tables and out the door. It was dark, and she forgot where she'd left her car. Her phone chirped. She ignored it and pressed her key fob, listening for her car’s beep. Her phone continued to chirp, and she grabbed it from her purse.
Ian’s worried face appeared. "Ann, Clio's been stolen. Hooper was up there using it, and he and Doug were shot."
Her contented feeling vanished, replaced by dread. "Oh, my God!"
A family of four gave her curious glances as they dodged around her and entered the restaurant.
"What's happening, Ian? Is the whole world going crazy?"
A hand touched her shoulder, "Ann, are you alright?"
She spun around, dropping the key fob and phone. "Isaac!"
He picked them up and handed them to her. "You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to the world. Ann, what's going on? "
She stared at Isaac and then the phone. It was too much. "I can't talk now." She disconnected and laughed, a little hysterically. "It's divine intervention. Last time I needed someone who should I get? And now?" She shook her head. "Isaac, we've got to talk. Follow me home, it's nearby."
His mouth opened in surprise. "What..."
"Please, Isaac."
"All right."
Relief flooded through her followed by panic. What had she done?
Ann hurried through the kitchen into the living room, opened the front door and ushered Isaac inside. "Home, sweet home," she said, switching on the living room lights. Her bike leaned against the wall; she hadn't hung it up in the garage.
Isaac stopped, watching her.
She needed a clear head, and she wasn’t about to get comfy with him on the sofa. "Let's go to the kitchen." She led the way, turned on the lights and motioned to the stools along the counter. "Have a seat. Will tea be alright?"
He perched on a stool. "That's fine," he replied in a patient tone.
She heated water in her old teapot and chose English breakfast teas. "Just a couple minutes." She gathered her courage "Isaac, I'm frightened. That call was from our head of security. Our CEO, Hooper, and his guards were in Oregon using the prototype when someone broke in and stole it. Hooper and a guard were shot, and there’s more."
The rising shriek from her teapot interrupted. She shut it off, filled the cups and passed one to Isaac.
"Two days ago I was in Oregon working on the prototype. The inn I was staying at got a call from a woman wanting to leave me a message. When the operator connected her to my room, she hung up. I told Ian, and he sent me home."
Isaac blew on his tea and sipped. "I take it Ian is head of security?"
She nodded, sipping from her too-hot brew. "Yeah."
"Your prototype survived the lab destruction?"
"Fortunately we moved it before." He didn’t seem surprised or upset by her tale of woe.
"For good reason, it appears." He took another sip. "If I'm intruding, tell me to shut up, but you haven’t mentioned your husband once."
She blushed and studied her tea. She never could hide anything
from him. "Things went badly this year, and this episode has put the finish to us." She felt tears forming and wiped her eyes.
"I'm sorry to hear that. What do you want from me?"
"What you're doing, listening to my problems and not judging me."
"Being a priest? I told you I'm not. I've had reservations about taking the final vows. Listening to you confirms that I'm not ready for that step, maybe I never will." He smiled, sadly. "I'll always be your friend."
Ann smiled. "I know, Isaac, and that means a great deal. Fact checking has got someone very upset."
"More like fearful. My superior is going to be very disturbed when I report to him. Look, can't you get your Ian to provide a guard?"
She shrugged. "I've thought of that, but I don't know if he would. Anyway I don’t like the idea."
"Your prototype is stolen. The other EntCom belongs to NASA, half of which is on the Jupiter-bound spaceship. Is that correct?"
"Yes"
"Why hasn't your husband had any problems, or has he?"
The question jolted her. She hadn't even considered Jon. "He's on the moon, and that’s pretty isolated, but you're right. When he returns he's as much a target as me." What about Farid? "There's one other, the head engineer who supervised building the EntCom."
"Does he know about your discovery?"
"Sure, he was there."
He drummed his fingers on the counter, staring at her. "You could build another prototype by yourself?"
"I said I could." Why is he harping on that?
"Ignoring money, how long would it take?"
"Several weeks. I’d have to purchase the equipment, assemble it and entangle the exotic matter. It's all in our notebooks. The exotic matter is the hang-up. There's only one Israeli company that can provide it, and they demand a long lead-time, though Global did purchase them." A horrible thought struck her. "Oh, shit. I left most of my notebooks in Oregon. The thieves must have them."
Isaac frowned. "You must have copies."
"Of course, but that's not the point. A competent physicist could use them to get the prototype running." She blushed. "Forgive my language, I'm upset."
He snorted. "I'm a Jesuit, not a saint. Once this becomes known, those Israelis are going to be very busy guys. The big corporations, governments, the rich, you name it, will try to corner the market. What you're experiencing is just the start. It could turn into another arms race."
"I know," she said softly, "I know."
He pushed his cup away and stood. "Do you want me to stay?"
She stared at him, shocked. "Do you mean...?"
He laughed. "You're safe. Think of me as a somewhat intelligent watchdog. Your Ian is right, you're in real danger. Just having someone else around is a deterrent."
She blushed. "What will your superior say?"
He grinned. "I have to confess my sins, there just won't be any."
Would this work? It would be awkward, but she'd feel so much better even if he wasn't Alex. "I accept. There's a spare bedroom and bath. What about your stuff?"
"I'll get my things, check out and be back in a half hour." He smiled. "Don't worry, Ann, things will work out for the best."
"You know your way out. I need to get the room ready."
The clock on the microwave showed 10:20, late, still she had to call Ian. First the bedroom. Getting it and the bathroom ready only took a few minutes. She returned to the kitchen, retrieved her phone and tapped Ian's code.
"Yes?" He looked agitated.
"Sorry to take so long."
"You had me worried,” he said, his relief obvious. “Everything OK?"
"Yes. I had dinner with an old friend, the Jesuit I told you about. Anyway, we had a long talk, and he's going to be a house guest for a few days. Ian, I told him everything."
There was a long silence. "You told him about me? That wasn't wise, priest or not."
"No, not what you told me, just about Hooper and Doug, and why you sent me back."
"I'm glad there's someone staying with you. I've informed the FBI agent in charge of the lab investigation about Oregon. She wants to interview us, but Roger got her to wait ‘till Monday. We’ll meet in the conference room, so be here nine o'clock sharp."
The FBI? She had nothing to hide, or did she? "Do we tell them everything?"
"It's best not to volunteer information. They have their methods, so just answer their questions. If it comes to telling about your discovery, so be it. Roger wouldn't approve, but his opinion doesn’t count. Oh, our temporary boss is the CFO, Patel, and he doesn't know about the EntComs' ability. That's Roger's problem."
"Have you heard anything about their condition?"
"No. I expect a call from Allan later. I'll talk with you tomorrow."
"Right. Good night, Ian." She shut the phone. She was exhausted. As soon as Isaac returned she was crawling into bed. In the morning they could talk. And what was she going to tell Alex?
[Sunday, London]
The variety of bird-theme stamps on Plasket's favorite website astounded Swales. He could have spent hours scrolling through the catalogs but wrenched his attention back to the latest message imbedded in the Jersey stamp: “Mission accomplished. Meet at usual place today 19:00.” He frowned. The whole purpose for using steganography was to not meet. No conflicts on his appointment calendar. “Mission accomplished” implied Plasket had the device.
The Jupiter ship had launched from the moon a week past; their opportunity was fast disappearing. NASA had to have stumbled onto the EntCom’s anomalous behavior by now. He had to be ready.
Plasket was already seated, sipping his whiskey, when Swales entered the Card Room. Keeping his anger in check he walked over to the table and sat.
"Evening, Jeffrey," he said with a false smile.
"Jonathan. I took the liberty of ordering a whiskey for you."
"Thank you." He picked up the tumbler and took a large swallow. "Weren't we to keep meetings to a minimum?"
Plasket didn't smile. "I fear events have overtaken us."
Swales stared hard at Plasket. "Such as shooting Global's CEO?"
Plasket didn't blink. "An unfortunate occurrence, but we couldn't pass up the opportunity. I'm sure you understand the need for urgency."
He understood perfectly and considered the whole operation appallingly amateurish. "I dislike complications. The FBI is now involved."
"Quite so. We've reassembled the device, but can't make it function, even with the notes we acquired." His gaze hardened. "I warned you about that possibility, and now we have to do something about it." He sipped from his tumbler. "We have no time to rehash the entire publication history hunting for clues. I'm sure competent physicists could eventually piece things together, but again, we have no time. I want a name, someone with experience—not the inventors, they're too public."
It always came down to this: pawns to be maneuvered, used, and discarded. "With the FBI snooping around, my sources have been temporarily cut off. You must have people familiar with Global's operations."
"Of course, but time is the issue, and I'm not going to attract the FBI."
"For names you're going to have to do a search for anything related to the EntComs." Swales hesitated; time was running out "You can't discount the inventors, it's their prototype. I'd be very surprised if a technician or engineer would be of much help."
Plasket finished his whiskey and stood. "You may be right, I'll keep you informed," he said and strode from the room.
[Sunday, Vatican City]
Cardinal Balsamo started at the insistent beep from his tablet. He was tired from the long day that began with an early Mass, continued with confessions from junior priests, and ending with Vespers. Maybe it was time to retire; he just didn't have the energy anymore, especially with the latest Curia issues, and now the EntCom.
He tapped the message icon. A window opened showing a nonsmiling Brother Isaac, in civilian clothes, seated in what appeared to be a kitchen. "Good evening, Your Emine
nce."
"Brother Isaac. What have you to report?"
"A week ago last Friday the lab where Dr. Grey was testing the EntCom was deliberately blown up. Two guards were killed; she was unharmed."
His chest filled with a guilty hope even as he felt a deep sorrow about the deaths. "There was no mention in the international news."
"It only made the local news. Her EntCom survived and is in Houston communicating with the other EntCom on NASA's ship. That's the good news."
His pulse sped up. "And the bad?"
"The Greys’ prototype had been moved to a location in Oregon. Global Communication's CEO went there to test it. While there, the device was stolen and the CEO and his guard shot. That happened yesterday."
Balsamo winced. "The same perpetrators?"
Isaac shrugged. "Unknown. The FBI is investigating. The situation is very ugly."
"Do they know about you?"
"No, Eminence."
Thank God. "Where are you?"
Isaac glanced to his left. "I'm staying at Dr. Grey’s until her corporation can arrange security. She's under a lot of stress."
"Where's her husband?"
"Still at the moonbase, I think."
He had a sudden vision of the Jesuit being questioned by the FBI. What a disaster that would be. "I want you to return immediately. Under no circumstances are you to get involved."
Isaac frowned. "I'm already involved. I promised to remain until guards could be arranged. Dr. Grey is in real danger."
"I did not send you to rescue damsels in distress. Must I remind you of your vow of obedience?" He didn't add, and chastity?
"I gave my word."
Insolent pup. "Did you learn anything further to support Dr. Grey's claim?"
"We had a long discussion. She has no idea how her discovery works; it's driving her crazy. There is no question in my mind that the fact checking ability is genuine." He motioned to his left. "Ask her yourself."
To Balsamo's consternation, a blonde, middle-aged woman in a shirt and pants appeared next to Isaac. The signs of stress and fatigue were all too evident.