Quantum Space: Book One in the Quantum Series

by Douglas Phillips

  Daniel would have flashed his badge at this point, if he had one. “Joni, thanks for your concern. Would you mind bringing in Mr. Yost? We have a number of questions we’d like to ask him.”

  “I’m so sorry, I know you’re busy,” she said while standing up. “Let me just check to find out what might be keeping him. Stay right here.” She left the room, and Daniel turned to Marie, smiling, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

  “She’s their smooth talker,” Marie said. “Government relations and all that. Her shtick might even work on the guys who sign contracts.”

  “She reminds me of my sister,” Daniel laughed. “She does fundraisers for a Denver arts organization. It’s the same personality.”

  “Nice office, though,” Marie said, looking out the window. “It beats working on E Street in D.C.”

  “Or in La Bastille,” Daniel agreed.

  They waited impatiently for several more minutes. Finally, the door opened and Joni ushered in a man in gray slacks, a white shirt with no tie, and a gray suit coat. He looked to be in his early fifties, with a thick head of graying hair that perfectly matched his suit.

  “Mr. Rice, Ms. Kendrick,” Yost said, extending his hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was on an overseas call. Shawn Yost, Chief Technical Officer at Stetler.” He shook their hands and stood at the head of the table, even though there were many chairs to choose from. Joni took a seat opposite Daniel and Marie.

  “Is there anything we can get you? Soft drink? Coffee? Water?”

  Daniel spoke up this time. “No, we… no, thanks. Nothing for now.”

  “Well, then, let’s get right to it.” Yost took the chair at the head of the table. “I understand you’re investigating the Soyuz accident that we’ve been hearing about on the news. Such a tragedy, we were very sorry to hear about it. You’re from NASA, Ms. Kendrick? Did you know the astronauts?”

  “Yes, I know them,” Marie said. Daniel noticed her deft use of the present tense.

  Yost crossed his arms. “I know they’re still holding out hope that the capsule came down somewhere, but I can’t imagine what might have—”

  Daniel cut him off and played his hand. “Mr. Yost, we’re here from the Office of the National Science Advisor. I have specific authorization from the president himself to leverage any government agency or resource. I say this to make sure you’re aware of the importance of our discussion over the next few minutes. Our objective is to determine if the Diastasi program has any connection to the disappearance of the Soyuz spacecraft. We will need your cooperation.”

  Yost hesitated for a split second, but he maintained a smooth smile. Daniel noticed a slight flush. The first few seconds in any interview were critical, and Daniel had his part honed to perfection.

  “Mr. Rice, I can assure you that Stetler Corporation maintains the highest possible level of security. It’s our top priority. In fact, Stetler provides overall security to Fermilab as part of our contract.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ll be very cooperative in our investigation. First, we’ll need access to your program documents. Do you have a document store?”

  “I’m afraid all program documents are classified, Mr. Rice. As a government contractor, we can only respond to a certified request for specific documents.”

  Daniel responded clearly. “I’ll need full access. Today.”

  Yost laughed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make light of your request, but it’s not something we can do. Document requests from any outside agency are handled by our records department. The time frame would be more like two to three weeks, per document.”

  Daniel ignored the deflection and continued directly. “Mr. Yost, how many of the team members are based in this office?”

  “For Diastasi? All six work here at OTE.”

  “Very good, I’ll need to speak to each of them individually. Today, please. It won’t take long, fifteen minutes each.”

  “Now, I’ll have to stop you there, Mr. Rice.” Yost held his palm out as if stopping traffic. “Our employees are very busy people. They have project deadlines that are set by Fermilab. I cannot allow our schedule to be interrupted or our contract jeopardized. I will be happy to answer all your questions, and I can provide background checks on each employee.”

  The line between self-importance and obstruction was narrow and Daniel didn’t have the time or patience for either. There were three ways to get past barriers: straight through, by deconstructing the logic presented by the opponent; going around by ignoring the barrier; or tunneling under by constructing a path your opponent didn’t see coming. Daniel chose the tunneling option.

  “One minute, please.” Daniel pulled out his phone and touched a contact he had recently stored. He placed the phone on the table and set it to speaker.

  The voice was loud and clear. “Hello, Park here.”

  Daniel leaned forward. “Hello, Dr. Park, this is Daniel Rice. I’m over at Stetler Corporation right now and we need your help. First, we’re going to want to look at program documentation, both government and Stetler documents.”

  “No problem,” Park responded. “We have everything you’ll need over at Wilson Hall.”

  “That’s great. Thanks. And, Dr. Park, we’re coming up a little short on available time for the Stetler team members. They are of course all very busy doing work for you. This morning, you mentioned that you had a full team meeting coming up this afternoon?”

  “Yes, in about an hour. Did you wish to attend?”

  “You did offer to give me some time. But instead of my attendance, perhaps you could cut the meeting short by fifteen minutes, and I’ll talk to the team members over here. Would that work?”

  “Yes, Dr. Rice, that would be fine.”

  “Thanks so much, Dr. Park. I appreciate your help on this.”

  Daniel hung up and looked squarely at Yost. “Your employees now have extra time.”

  Yost turned to the window for a few seconds and then back to Daniel. “My apologies, Doctor Rice. Your investigation is clearly vital, and we will, of course, do our best to help. Joni, can you let the team know that we will need a few minutes of their time this afternoon?”

  Daniel pressed. “Just have them come into this conference room one at a time, please. I promise we’ll get them back to work as quickly as we can. I also want to speak with your head of security. Who would that be?”

  “Yes… um… that’s Bill McLellan.”

  “And is he here in this office?”

  “Either here or somewhere on the laboratory grounds.”

  “Please ask him to make some time this afternoon to meet with us. Thirty or forty minutes should do.”

  “Anyone else?” Yost’s overtly courteous behavior had disappeared.

  “No,” said Daniel, “that will be enough for today. The president and his national science advisor thank you for your help.”

  A blank look on his face, Yost shook their hands and left the room along with Joni.

  When the door closed, Marie turned to Daniel, her eyes wide. “Daniel Rice, I’m impressed. You seemed so unassuming. But when you’re ready to rock and roll, you just take command, don’t you?”

  Daniel grinned and looked out the window. “Did you notice his response to my suggestion of a connection to Soyuz? He defended his employees, offered to show us their background checks and defended the corporation’s security. He even offered up the fact that Stetler provides overall security to Fermilab, which was interesting to learn. But he never once denied that the technology could be the cause. And he’s their chief technical officer. That’s a hundred and eighty degrees from Park’s response. Park insisted it couldn’t happen, that they didn’t even possess the capability. Yost never mentioned it.”

  “You’re right,” she answered. “I wonder what his employees will say about that.”

  Daniel nodded. “Let’s ask them.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  They split up for the afternoon. Marie returned to Wilson Hall and disco
vered that documentation was handled by a single clerk on the tenth floor. She stopped first at Park’s office, reasoning that the five extra minutes spent in introductions would likely save hours. There’s nothing like the top boss standing in your cubicle to ensure your priorities are straight.

  Minutes later she had a desk, a computer and access to a list of file folders that the clerk thought might be of use. He even dropped a stack of paper on the desk—program test results that were not stored electronically.

  She dug into a folder marked Diastasi Design and quickly located detailed program objectives, as well as the test bench system design. A lot of it was deep in the weeds, but she noticed that several documents called for a one-meter cubicle target box and spelled out a limit of 150 GeV on the particle beam energy level. She didn’t know whether that was low or high, but at least it was a limit. There was nothing that suggested anyone had been working to increase the test capabilities.

  As she reviewed, she noticed several key names coming up repeatedly. Park wasn’t one of them, but perhaps that made sense. The director could hardly be expected to create design documentation or build a test bench. But three other names stood out: two physicists, Jan Spiegel and Nala Pasquier, and a mechanical engineer, Donovan Rohrs. Interviews with each would be useful.

  Spiegel was in a meeting. Pasquier was a Stetler employee, and Daniel would pick that one up. Rohrs was located just down the hall.

  He was writing on the whiteboard when she stepped into his office. “Mr. Rohrs? Do you have a minute?”

  A wiry man with a bony face, he wore oversized pants that looked like they might slip off any minute, held up only by a belt cinched tightly above his waist. He peered over his thick glasses, remaining stone silent.

  “I’m Marie Kendrick. Here on a special project. Dr. Park mentioned you might be able to help me.” The name drop received some attention. The man blinked hard and set his marker down. His head still seemed miles away, solving some complex problem.

  “Sorry to interrupt your work.” She flashed a big smile. It might help.

  “Marie,” he said, his head in a cloud. “I don’t know anyone named Marie.”

  She did a double take. “Sorry, can we start again? I’m Marie. I have some questions about Diastasi.”

  He pointed to the whiteboard. “This is Diastasi.”

  Simple conversational skills seemed to elude Rohrs, so she stepped into the office and closed the door. The whiteboard had a drawing of boxes and connecting lines, with notations scratched all over. It was a mess, but perhaps it made sense to him. “I’ve seen that you were the primary engineer in establishing the Diastasi test bench down in the lab.”

  He stared at her.

  Awkward, but maybe not hopeless. “Are you perhaps designing the next phase? An expanded capability?”

  He pointed again to the whiteboard. “This is Diastasi, phase two.” He looked at her visitor’s badge. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “I can assure you, Mr. Rohrs, I have the full backing of Director Park to be here. That’s how I learned about your work. Shall we talk to him?”

  He said nothing and continued staring at her badge. She had already seen that every element of the current design had passed through Rohrs, even if that seemed farfetched now that she had met the man himself. But if phase two existed solely on his whiteboard, Fermilab might be off the hook.

  “Mr. Rohrs, has any portion of phase two been implemented? Is there a phase two test bench somewhere at Fermilab? Anything like that?”

  He tapped on one of the boxes in the drawing. “Phase two requires a fourteen gigavolt step-up coil inserted between the main injector and the graphite target loop. And three-millimeter lead shielding in the NuMI horn. And—”

  “So, I’ll take that as a no?”

  Rohrs picked up the marker and returned to his work. “No one builds until the design is finished.”

  “And when will that be?”

  He paused for what seemed like forever. “Six months.”

  It was like pulling teeth, but at least they were out. Marie thanked him, exited the office and took a deep breath as she walked down the hall.

  And I thought NASA engineers were strange.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Daniel watched the conference room door close and returned to his notepad. Over the past hour, he had talked with five people: two physicists, two project managers, and Thomas, the systems operator who had performed the morning demonstration. None had provided any further insight. In fact, each seemed to corroborate the statements Yost had made earlier. Deadlines and security were both tightly controlled.

  When Daniel asked them direct questions about the technology, it was hard not to notice the similarity in their answers, as if they had been coached in advance about what to say to the government investigator. If needed, Daniel could easily escalate. An FBI agent reading Miranda rights created a different dynamic in the conversation. But bringing in the FBI could take time, and every hour counted. Uncovering the right piece of information might still save the lives of the three men literally lost in space.

  Daniel sat alone in the conference room, reviewing his notes. The door opened and Joni’s head popped in. “I have another team member, if you’re ready.”

  “All set,” Daniel replied. “Who do we have?”

  The door opened wider and a woman walked through. She turned back to Joni, said thanks and closed the door behind her. She was attractive, late thirties or early forties, with dark skin and hair.

  She displayed an internal confidence as she walked towards him. “Hi. Nala Pasquier. I’m a particle physicist here at Fermilab-slash-Stetler.”

  She was well-dressed in a patterned skirt and a loose white blouse with demi-length sleeves. She wore several multicolored bangle bracelets on each wrist. There were no stereotypical white lab coats for the scientists at Stetler; they each dressed as they wished.

  Daniel stood up. “Dr. Pasquier, I’m pleased to meet you, and I do appreciate your help.”

  She stood close to Daniel as she shook his hand. “Nala, please. I don’t do formality very well. Is that a government thing? Some of the Fermilab people do that too.”

  “You’re probably right, we do get overly formal. In my case, it’s the influence of the White House.” Daniel offered the chair at the head of the table, and Nala took it.

  “Is that where you work?” she asked. “The White House? Do you get to hang with the president?”

  Daniel smiled. “I’ve met him a couple of times, but I can’t say we’re best buddies. My office is actually next door, and my view is a parking lot. Less glamorous than you’d think.”

  “But you’re a scientist, right? You work for the president’s science advisor, and before that you worked for the Navy? Sorry, I googled you a few minutes before I came in.”

  Daniel shifted in his chair. “That’s right, the Office of Naval Research. Now I conduct special investigations for the president’s science advisor, generally to keep scientific programs in line with their objectives. And you are a particle physicist. Have you been at Fermilab long?”

  “Nice switch,” she said with a slight nod. “You are supposed to be grilling me.”

  “Not how I would put it, Nala. But, yes, I have some questions for you about the work you do here.”

  She stiffened slightly in her chair. “I’ve been here for three years, working on various neutrino test bench systems and oscillation control software. Before that I was on contract to Argonne to develop a prototype for an advanced neutrino detector. And before that I was a grad student at U of Chicago, working on my thesis, ‘Temporal Density Variations in a Normalized Higgs Field.’ I’m a US citizen, I have a TS/SCI security clearance, and I live in Aurora, Illinois. I’m Haitian-French, and I always vote Democrat. Anything else you need to know?”

  She exuded attitude, and Daniel had to suppress a smile.

  “I have no doubt you salute the flag outside the building each morning. But righ
t now, I’m less concerned about security and more interested in the project work. I’ll be direct, too, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  Having earlier acquiesced to the continual offers of refreshments, Daniel took a sip of water. “Nala, I’ve seen what you do here. The results are nothing short of mind-blowing. But my question is about capability.” He leaned forward and looked at her squarely in the eyes. “Are you aware of any capacity to affect the position of an object that is outside of the testing room? Specifically, an object that might be hundreds of kilometers away, even an object in orbit around the Earth?”

  Nala sat nearly motionless except for the hard squint in her eyes. “Who are you again?”

  It was the most interesting response of the day. “Dr. Daniel Rice, from the Office of Science and Technology Policy.”

  “Not from the FBI or CIA or military police or anything like that?”

  “No, I’m a scientist asking a question about the science that is being conducted here.”

  She waited a few seconds. “No, sir. Nothing like that can be done here. We don’t have that capability.”

  Daniel waited patiently. “That’s all?”

  Nala just nodded.

  He pushed on, wondering where the conversation might go. “Okay, I appreciate your honesty, Nala. Could you tell me about Stetler Corporation?”

  She looked down and played with her bracelet as she talked. “Like what? The company story? It’s pretty boring.”

  “No, like what kind of an employer are they? What kind of leadership? Their relationship with the Fermilab government scientists, that kind of thing.”

  “Well, Stetler is like any contractor. They pay better than an equivalent government job, and they provide better office space. But there are drawbacks too.”

  “Like?”

  “Well, for one, you end up with two bosses, the company and the client. The client asks for something and management tells you to do something else. You’re stuck in the middle. Stuff like that.”

  “Give me an example. Anything recent?”

  “Yeah, happens all the time. You deal with classified information, right?”

  “A little, mostly in my past with the Navy. There aren’t too many scientific programs that are classified. This one is a rarity.”