Quantum Space: Book One in the Quantum Series

by Douglas Phillips

  Nala nodded. It wasn’t easy to say to a cop, but she forced it out. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve got it from here, Agent Coffey.” Townsend closed the door behind him.

  Nala felt like she had just faced down a bull who had decided at the last minute not to charge. She had to consciously close her mouth. “Wow. That was a turn I wasn’t expecting.”

  Coffey smiled. “I’m glad it worked out.” She pushed a plastic badge across the table. “You’ll need this back. Your access to Fermilab facilities has been restored—the same as you had before, but let us know if you see any mistakes, okay?” Coffey stood up. “Can you come with me? I’ll get you set up on a computer.”

  Nala followed her down the hallway, her head in a daze. Things were rapidly changing for the better, yet chaos still reigned in the office. Cardboard boxes were everywhere and most desks had been cleared. Nala saw their IT manager working to disconnect some cables, but otherwise there were no employees in the office. “Where is everyone?”

  “Most people were just sent home. Some were in tears, it was really sad. We’ve been calling them in one by one for interviews. We’ve only asked key people to remain in the building. Mr. Yost, Mr. Stetler and a few others.”

  She stopped walking. “Yost is still here?” She wasn’t relishing meeting him in the hallway.

  “Yeah, he’s in his office, I think.”

  “Does he have access to anything?”

  Agent Coffey shook her head. “No one does. We’ve shut all that down.”

  “So why are they still here if they can’t access their computers?”

  “I think Mr. Yost and Mr. Stetler are still meeting with each other,” she said. “We pop in every now and then and ask them a question.”

  It didn’t seem very thorough. Irresponsible, even. Why were Yost and Stetler still allowed to roam the building at all? She hoped this investigation didn’t blow up through lack of competence. Agent Coffey stopped at a closed door, pulled out a key and opened it. It was a small office with no windows, one desk and one computer. There was another key lying on the desk.

  “That’ll be your key, Dr. Pasquier. This office is for your use only. You can take as long as you need to review the documents, but if you leave to go to the restroom or anywhere else, please close and lock the door, and don’t allow anyone else inside.”

  She handed Nala a slip of paper. “It’s your temporary login. There’s folder on the computer desktop. Just follow the instructions and electronically sign the affidavit at the end. It’s really pretty easy.

  “Oh, and if you don’t mind, just memorize your login and put the paper in the shredder in the hallway before you leave. My boss will get mad at me if you don’t. Okay?”

  “I can do that,” Nala replied. “Thanks for your help. I hope you nail those guys.”

  “Mr. Stetler?” asked Agent Coffey.

  “And Yost, especially Yost.”

  “I don’t know about Mr. Yost, but Mr. Stetler seems like such a nice man.” Coffey shook her head. “It’s too bad, really.”

  “Don’t let them fool you. If there was any money in it, Stetler would sell out his own mother.” She sat down at the desk and turned on the computer. Agent Coffey waved goodbye and closed the door. Nala logged in. She was happy to see a familiar list of apps and file folders still available to her.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Shawn Yost sat in the guest chair across from Terry Stetler. With no computer and no office phone, the desk seemed empty. But Stetler had adjusted and was making notes on paper and using his personal phone.

  “I told you, I begged you to shut this thing with the Chinese down,” Yost shouted. “Now we’re both in it up to our eyeballs. They’ve got it all. The fucking FBI has everything they need, like we just gave it to them.”

  Stetler didn’t flinch, his tone weary. “You’re such a small-minded man, Shawn. I’ve tried to coach you. Lord knows, I’ve given you every opportunity to step up your game. But, it’s clear to me now that you just don’t have it in you. You’re not executive material. Just a common personnel manager.”

  Yost was heated. “What the hell is wrong with you? You act like nothing is happening out there.” He knew he was cornered, and he worried he was being set up for the fall. If he was going down, he’d take Stetler with him.

  “Shawn, all of this”—Stetler waved his hands in the air—“it’s just a temporary setback. The wheels are already in motion to bury this so-called investigation. The good senator from Oklahoma will come through. We’ll be back in business in a few months. Well, I will. I’m sorry you won’t be involved in phase two, but I’m afraid I’ll be needing a new chief technical officer. Shawn, it’s been a good run.”

  “Fuck you!” Yost fired back. “You think Cummings is your savior. You think you can just do anything you want and no one can touch you. Arrogant prick.”

  “Shawn, get a backbone and shape up for God’s sake. And don’t even think about talking to the FBI. You’ll be the guy who goes down, not me. I don’t have to remind you that it’s your signature on the Wah Xiang agreement. I’m also quite sure Jie Ping won’t be testifying in your defense. But if you keep your mouth shut, this will blow over in a few weeks and then you can go find yourself another job. I might even write you a recommendation, if you’re nice.”

  Yost stood up and paced the room. He knew he was in over his head, and the boxes piled up outside the office were a strong reminder. But if Stetler pulled this one out of the fire, it wouldn’t be the first time. As it turned out, Yost didn’t have to decide one way or the other. There was a knock on the door, and Agent Coffey poked her head around the door.

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “We’re going to need to interrupt you now.” She opened the door completely to show Agents Stevens and Townsend standing behind her. Stevens had a weapon drawn, pointing to the floor, and the look on his face made it clear he was ready to use it.

  Townsend stepped into the room. “Do the honors, if you will, Agent Coffey.”

  Coffey approached Yost, pulled out a pair of handcuffs and took his wrist. With considerable expertise, she slapped the cuffs on one hand and reached around for the other. Yost was too stunned to move. She spoke to him as if she were awarding a blue ribbon for best brownies at a county fair. “You’re being placed under arrest now, Mr. Yost. We’ll read your rights in just a minute. If you wouldn’t mind, just stand right there for now.”

  Stetler remained frozen in his chair, watching intently. Strangely, he still carried a look of confidence, as if he really believed his tall tale, and Senator Cummings would save the day at the last minute.

  Coffey walked to his desk. “Would you mind standing up, Mr. Stetler? It won’t take a second.” Stetler hesitated, and Coffey repeated, “Yes, stand up, that’s right.” He looked at Stevens, at the gun in his hand, and back to Coffey. He finally stood up, a look of horror on his face as Coffey pulled another pair of handcuffs from her pocket. “You’re under arrest too, Mr. Stetler.” She slapped the cuffs on his wrists.

  “Goddammit,” Stetler yelled. “You damned incompetent bitch! What the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s the guy you need, not me! Yost made the deal. Check the paperwork, you’ve got it in one of those goddamned boxes out there.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Nala heard yelling. She jumped up and peered out the door. It was coming from Stetler’s office, and the FBI agents were standing in the doorway. “This, I have to see.”

  She padded down the hallway and came up behind Agent Townsend. He glanced at her and she lifted her eyebrows in a simple question. He nodded and she peered over his shoulder. Inside, Stetler stood at his desk, his arms behind his back. She could see the handcuffs on Yost. Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God.”

  Agent Coffey carried on in her agreeable way. “Oh, of course you’re right, Mr. Stetler. You know, I looked at that contract just this morning. And Mr. Yost had signed it, just like you say. But, you know, I got to thinking that maybe
the whole thing was a little too simple. They taught me in FBI training to look at the big picture. You know what I mean?”

  Nala couldn’t believe her eyes. Agent Coffey was arresting Stetler and Yost. Cheery, sweet-natured Agent Coffey from Kentucky.

  “So, this morning I got to thinking,” Coffey continued, “about the big picture. I knew I’d need more information to get it right.”

  She walked to the credenza next to Stetler’s desk, reached into a narrow space between the credenza and the wall and withdrew a thin metallic wafer that had been taped there. She held the recorder up in the air and smiled.

  “I’m pretty sure this will help us with that big picture.” She waved the device around like a proud mom. “It’s really well designed, easy to tape to wherever you need it. Up to twelve hours of audio recording with a great mic that picks up conversations even in a room this big.” She turned her head to Yost. “I put it there before you guys came in this morning.”

  Nala threw her hand to her mouth to suppress the laughter. “Amazing,” she whispered. She had me completely fooled too.

  Stetler hung his head down. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Agents Townsend and Stevens each grabbed an arm and led the handcuffed men through the door, Nala pressing herself against the wall as they walked past.

  She peered back in and caught Agent Coffey’s eye. Coffey smiled back and Nala stepped into the room. “Damn nice work, girl. You’ve definitely got a style.”

  Coffey waved her off. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just being myself. It seems to work well for my job. Kind of throws people off and gives me room to work.”

  “Masterful,” Nala said in awe.

  “Got to run now. Paperwork, you know. Oh, I almost forgot. When you get back to your computer, look for another file on the desktop. It’s a copy of some documents that Dr. Rice received from the former security chief at Stetler?”

  “The white envelope, I remember.”

  “Pay no attention to the content. Fakes, I’m afraid. Good ones, but not difficult to challenge in court. You’re safe.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

  “Well, you take care of yourself, Dr. Pasquier. And good luck.”

  “Call me Nala.”

  “Thanks, Nala. Call me Jean.”

  “Thanks, Jean. You’re the best.”

  Jean Coffey, no doubt one of the FBI’s best agents, just smiled.

  35 Bliss

  The office was little more than a hollow shell. No FBI, no Stetler, Yost, or any other employee for that matter. Even the stacks of cardboard boxes were gone. Nala was completely, marvelously, wonderfully alone.

  She drifted slowly down the empty hallway, her shoeless feet barely touching the carpet. She looked up at the elegantly lit curved ceiling and down the hallway to the once-impressive reception area of the now-defunct Stetler Corporation.

  A genuine smile broke across her face. Accompanied by beautiful music in her head, she danced.

  She weighed nothing and floated effortlessly. One leg lifted and she performed a graceful pirouette on her toe, arms flowing in waves as her ballet teacher had taught more than twenty years before. She closed her eyes and reached both arms high overhead. She exhaled completely and then took a full breath of fresh, new, clean air.

  She lifted onto one toe, tilted her head and touched her fingers in a circle. She turned around and leaped in a tour jeté, landing perfectly on her jump foot. The movements felt wonderful and the imagined music was magical.

  She heard the clapping of hands behind her. She twirled, her eyes wide as they met Daniel’s. He stood alone at the far end of the hallway. “Beautiful,” was all he said.

  Her face flushed at the intrusion into her private performance. But the joy inside would not allow embarrassment to spoil the fun. She placed her leg in front and bowed deeply to one knee, her arms forming feathery wings to each side. “Thank you, sir.”

  He waved a hand. “Please don’t stop. Is there more?”

  She flowed down the hallway on tiptoe, a bourrée en couru, stopping just short of Daniel and still on her toes. “Un pas de deux, monsieur?” She smiled, overtly sweet, took his hand and danced… as well as she could, dragging Daniel down the hall.

  “Wait!” he cried out. Daniel dropped his overnight bag, and it hit the floor with a dull clunk. She stopped and turned to face him. “Ah, ballet’s not your thing. A ballroom dancer, I think.” She placed his hand on her waist, her hand on his shoulder and their free hands together. The music in her head changed to a waltz and she hummed for his benefit. She led, he followed, in a clumsy sort of way. But the effort was there, and that was all that mattered.

  They danced together. She looked up into his face and beamed. “Pure joy is fleeting, to be treasured when it comes.” Daniel nodded, his face still more surprised than overjoyed.

  They spun, lifted and twirled, not elegantly but with enthusiasm. When he almost stepped on her foot, he lost his balance, and together they crashed into the wall. She buried her face in his chest, laughing as hard as she’d laughed in months. She looked up at him. “Oh my God, Daniel. You’re great!”

  “Since when is terrible the same as great?” He still held her hand. “You, on the other hand, have a wealth of hidden talent.”

  She leaned her head against him and took a deep breath. He smelled nice, a scent she couldn’t place. She remembered a similar dance years ago, on a tropical beach at night. The dance had ended much the same way, with a crash. But, helped along by tequila, it had also led to a night of pleasure.

  His face was near as he spoke. “I saw the parade of felons in the parking lot. You must be relieved.”

  He wasn’t a surfer, and this wasn’t a beach. She released his hand and stepped away. Her ballet slippers returned to being ordinary socks, and she walked through the doorway of her temporary office. “It’s a new day, Mr. Government Investigator. And the rain clouds are parting.”

  She rounded the desk and sat down in the chair. Daniel stepped into the doorway, and she held up a hand. “You’re not allowed in here. So says the FBI. Only me.”

  “I see.” He stepped a foot backwards. “I’m hope things worked out with… Agent Townsend, I believe?”

  “You’ve spoken with them, and apparently very persuasively.” She grabbed her Fermilab badge from the desk and held it up. “I’ve been redeemed. Thank you again, sir.”

  Daniel leaned against the doorway. “I wouldn’t have made it very far without your help. You were brave to come forward, and I’m very grateful.”

  The past twenty-four hours had certainly been dicey. An emotional roller coaster, as they say, with an outcome that could have gone either way. Without his intervention, she wouldn’t be sitting in this office.

  “Buy me dinner sometime.” She smiled. “How’s tonight?”

  Daniel laughed. She knew he would.

  “You know, that sounds wonderful, and I wish I could. But…”

  And she’d also expected his answer. “Yeah, I get it. Duty calls. Astronauts still missing and all that.” She stood up and grabbed her car keys from the desk. “Well, it’s nearly six. I’m done here, so I think I’ll head home. Thanks for the dance.” She poked a finger in his chest and lifted her eyebrows. “You were fantastic.”

  Daniel straddled the doorway, blocking her exit. His mouth tightened. “Nala, I need your help. Again.”

  36 Circles

  “Nala, I need access to the lab… and your talents.”

  He couldn’t stop her from leaving, and he would let her pass if she insisted, but Daniel needed her cooperation. He had used his leverage to ensure no charges were filed against her, and his effort had not been solely for her benefit.

  Their hallway dance had been a delightful diversion. She was an impulsive, intriguing woman, and he would have gladly spent the rest of the evening locked on to those beautiful eyes. He could see the change in her. The nervousness and frustration were gone, replaced by an aura of self-confidence that made he
r even more alluring.

  But right now, he didn’t need an attractive woman on his arm or an exotic dance partner; he needed the particle physicist who stood before him.

  “Park was called away to Washington,” he said. “It’s past six, and somehow, I need to tap into the power of this facility. Tonight. Can you help?”

  He was significantly taller than Nala, and she looked up to answer. A twisted smile formed on her lips. “Sounds like a man who needs neutrinos. I’m at your service.”

  “Thank you, I do appreciate your help.” Daniel held up a hand. “But first I need to show you something.”

  She shook her head. “Not here. The FBI owns it now. I gave them what they wanted, I’m done with this dump.” She wiggled her index finger in his face. “Come on, I know the perfect place.”

  She closed and locked the door. Daniel followed her down the hallway and out of the building. They took her car the short distance to Wilson Hall, and then the elevator to the lowest levels of the labyrinth beneath the ground. She cheered at each security door as her badge flawlessly provided access.

  They dropped down another level by stairs before reaching a door marked MINERvA. Inside was a large room that looked half-finished, with scaffolding reaching up to an exposed rock ceiling. In the center, a massive steel hexagon as big as a car and probably ten times as heavy was suspended in the air by a structure of steel I-beams.

  “We’re at the deepest point underground now,” she said. “More than a hundred meters of rock are above us.” She pointed to the steel hexagon. “They slam neutrinos into iron atoms here. The beam passes through that steel block on its way to Minnesota.”

  She walked to the corner of the room and opened another door. “But I didn’t bring you here for any of that. The MINERvA team has the best analysis room at Fermilab. Cozy and quiet, with comfy chairs and a fridge.”