The Lucifer Sanction

by Denaro, Jason

  Sam looked at him incredulously. “So where’s this all going? Where are your guys,” and he stabbed a finger at the ceiling, his voice becoming more aggravated, “and how are those fuckers upstairs involved?”

  “Libra has sent its man, Neuberg, back to eliminate their rogue operatives. Moreau cannot be allowed to reenter with the Lucifer virus. Günter Neuberg is carrying an activation device.”

  “An activation device,” Sam said pensively, “to activate what?”

  “Plutonium.”

  “In 1356?”

  “You are not following what I am explaining, Mr. Ridkin.” Frober inhaled impatiently, and held the breath for six long seconds allowing frustration to show as he exhaled.

  “Try me,” Hunter growled. “What the fuck are you gettin’ at? There ain’t no nuclear waste back in...” He paused, gave Sam a confused expression.

  Sam put on a contrived smile. “But you’ve got yourselves the next twenty-four thousand years to find what works best . . . right?”

  Frober nodded, “Voila! Clay appears to be the most likely medium. The Belgians and French have tested clay and America has looked at igneous and hard rock as possible repositories for the waste. The physicists are unsure if underground storage will be successful. Germany has two dump sites, one in the former East Germany, the other in former West Germany. A salt bed underground facility in Gorleben was closed in 1998 when water was found to be leaking into the site at a rate of over four thousand five hundred gallons daily.”

  “So – how about allied nations?” Sam asked shrugging. “You know – the U.K. for instance.”

  “The United Kingdom halted construction of their underground storage site at Sellafield. All construction of underground facilities within Germany and the United Kingdom has been halted.” Frober stalled for a breather. He pressed a desk button and an overweight receptionist entered through a sliding door. “Getränke und Kekse,” Frober said.

  Three minutes later the woman returned with a carafe of fresh coffee and a selection of cookies. Frober nodded at the pastries, “Please gentlemen, be my guests. Mr. Ridkin, as far as those who predict the outcome are concerned, it is going to become unstable in the near term, as they say - for some inexplicable reason.”

  “So then - Libra plans to provide that inexplicable reason?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” Frober replied. “The physicists upstairs are planning a catastrophe that will destabilize and trigger leakage into the world’s water supply lines. World leaders claim the natural movement of the ancient salt bed will isolate lethal material, but Bosch, Danzig and Schroeder plan to prove them wrong. These misguided ‘specialists’ believe that out of sight is uh - out of mind. They consider they can excavate an area, deposit waste into the hole and salt will eventually creep in and encapsulates the waste. The waste will become one with the rock.”

  Sam leaned in closer to Frober. “I thought the salt’s supposed to be enough to contain the radioactive material for thousands of years?”

  “The ceilings of the dump holes are designed to collapse soon after the New Mexico sight is sealed. The surrounding geological salt beds will, according to the designers and their advisers, adequately contain the nuclear waste.”

  “What do the crazies upstairs have in mind?” Sam asked as he tried to nail Frober to an exact response. “What are their plans for this guy, Neuberg, what’s he doing with the device?”

  “The water system in the New Mexico dump site runs directly into the Pecos, which itself runs onto the Rio Grande River,” Frober said. “Libra plans to contaminate the Yangtze, the Rhine, the Colorado and every other major waterway. These rivers would not become contaminated for more than a hundred years allowing natural evolution to take its snail pace route. Libra plans to reduce that one hundred year contamination time to less than one year. There is already water seeping into the facility. Physicists claim there is an aquifer within the facility. This is a total fabrication, a lie. If there was an aquifer, the salt would not be there. Multiply this by the thousands of plutonium dump-sites worldwide and, well, I am sure you get the picture. Our friends upstairs, Beckman and Bosch, they are determined to implement their plan.”

  “They’re crazy! It’s suicidal!” Sam snapped. “How in the name of sweet Jesus do they safeguard their own people from this disaster? I mean to say - everything will be affected, right?”

  “Absolutely - and there you have plan C. Libra plans to rid our planet of all military, all aggression, oh, and unfortunately they cannot avoid collateral damage

  - the population at large and all of man’s drinking water that comes from run off, established catchments, mountain springs. Libra will start with a clean slate, with a Garden of Eden.” Frober took a long few seconds to study the disbelieving faces.

  Eventually Hunter groaned, “A Garden of Eden, with Beckman playin’ God – or will Bosch be holdin’ out the apple?”

  Frober chuckled, “They will each play God, Agent Hunter. They see their roles as, hmm...” He paused and mulled over his choice of words, “as providing a rebirth opportunity for a new race of humans, a peaceful beginning

  – one without political aspirations of leaders who are no more than national mobsters, brutalizing citizens for their own greedy ends.”

  “How’d they plan to . . .”

  Sam didn’t complete the question.

  Frober turned away, strolled to a cabinet. “They will evacuate selected personnel together with their families, establish sanctuaries, safe havens. Libra will repopulate the planet to suit their dreams, create an Arian Race, you might say. There will be no more illness, no more nuclear crazed governments. To better phrase it, Libra will be a New World Order, an ideological utopia. They aspire to a Fourth Reich and will continue with their Bilderberg connection. They will create Hitler’s aspiration, an Arian Race. Libra will claim to be moving forward, to by-pass what would without their intervention be deemed inevitable.”

  “Deemed inevitable? You’re saying annihilation is gonna happen unless Libra intervenes?”

  “So their physicists say, Mr. Ridkin. In time – yes – it will happen.” He paused as though considering a better way to phrase his reply. “Yes, that is exactly what will occur. We have considered a number of scenarios but unfortunately we arrive at the same conclusion - that human intrusion in the manner Libra plans is the only solution. The alternative is a world devoid of food supply, a human race driven to cannibalism for its very survival.” He unrolled a map showing the North American continent, Europe, Australia, South America, Canada and China. “You see these hi-lighted areas? They represent billions of clean acres.”

  “Clean acres?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, catchment areas containing fresh water far afield from the plutonium leakage, sufficient amounts to create trillions of cubic feet of fresh drinking water once run through an aquifer. It will provide irrigation to grow food. Every cubic foot of previously worthless land will contain the most valuable commodity on a drought stricken planet - fresh water.”

  “And these lands are the property of?” Sam asked.

  “Libra is very clever. They bought up these wastelands for pennies on the dollar and quietly set a pipeline into each directly from the oceans of the world. The salt water will travel through the aquifer and voila, an underground storage of cool, clean drinking water. We presently pay around five dollars for a small bottle of drinking water. After Neuberg activates his devise, that figure could rival the price paid for the most expensive wine. We can live without the wine, but we have to have the water. As Benjamin Franklin said, ‘you won’t know the worth of water until the well is dry.’”

  “So the device that Günter Neuberg has, it will activate the . . .”

  Frober exhaled impatiently. “When Neuberg transfers back to our time, when Libra knows the three ampoules have been safely removed and Moreau terminated, they will have their people in place. Neuberg will activate every plutonium dump-site on our planet and Libra’s intrusion will release to
xic chemicals. Radioactive components will contaminate the biosphere and water infiltration will mix with the plutonium creating plutonium hydride, an amazing substance that ignites spontaneously. The possibility of accidental penetration will more than detour investigations from facilities such as Libra in situations where containment facilities are located in areas rich in oil, gas, and potash. We are certain that any potential investigators would be far more concerned with their own survival than searching out the cause of their demise.

  “Meanwhile pumps will bring in billions of gallons that will run through the aquifer and fill enormous underground caverns with an endless supply of uh - hmm, of course...” He paused, made light of his attempt to add humor, “an endless supply of bottles of Dasani.”

  Sam and Hunter remained stoic. Frober quickly put his serious face back in place.

  “When we worked harmoniously with the people upstairs, we mastered reverse osmosis, raised it to a level previously unimaginable. Successful commercialization occurring in the early 2003 period enabled us to force seawater through a membrane.”

  Silence.

  Sam gave a few long seconds for Frober to elaborate further. After too long a silence Sam said, “Allow me to play Devil’s advocate here. If for some reason Neuberg doesn’t destroy the ampoules – what’s the effective life of the Lucifer virus?”

  “Lucifer will kill for two hours, three maximum. It will kill everything that breathes – all bird life, everything on the surface of the Earth.”

  “And then?”

  “And then it will die, Mr. Ridkin, then it will die.”

  “Die?” Hunter queried. “You mean after what – after a few years?”

  “No. Lucifer completely destroys itself just three hours after release.”

  “Is there some way . . .” and Sam hesitated to better think out his question. “Is there some way to destroy the virus while it remains contained in sealed ampoules?”

  “The virus can only be destroyed when the ampoules are subjected to extreme heat.”

  “How extreme?” Hunter asked.

  “Six thousand degrees . . . Celsius.”

  “You’re saying it’s gonna take a nuclear explosion to kill this thing?” Sam asked.

  Frober interlocked his fingers, stretched his palms toward Sam and replied in an acquiescing manner. “Nothing less, Mr. Ridkin – nothing less; our intent is to intercede in the return of Libra’s Anti-Christ. We have the ability to destroy Lucifer, to inhibit the triggering of plutonium contamination - to destroy Günter Franz Neuberg.”

  ***** An hour and ten minutes after the commencement of the meeting, Frober attempted to explain the existence, or rather, the survival of their prototype Particle Transfer Chambers tucked away in a storage area deep beneath the rambling Zurich facility.

  “In our earlier days,” he said in a deep level of intensity, “well, in those days we attempted particle transfer and struggled with photon interference.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sam interjected with a raised palm. “I know I speak for Hunter and me when I say our science vocabulary is embarrassingly limited. What little we arrived with has been totally erased.” He gestured with a shrug. “What the hell is photon interference?”

  “Among our Libra physicists there are those who several years back believed quantum theory indicated the existence of parallel universes.”

  “And so you moved those early guys back in time, correct?”

  “Well – no. The initial subjects were animals. Those dogs that ran by – they are the luckier ones.”

  “Luckier?” Hunter said making a face.

  “Yes. We experienced issues with the early model chambers.”

  “Issues?” Hunter asked with a strained expression that hung like a death mask. “What kind of issues?”

  “Our Particle Transfer Chambers are lined with multiple mirrors, Agent Hunter. The use of silvered mirrors has a tendency to bounce the photon off the mirrored surfaces. Unfortunately our people had several issues with photon detection. As this is far removed from the statistical basis of thermodynamics in classical physics, we suffered having to endure a lack of precise knowledge of initial conditions.”

  “So correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor,” Sam said, “What you’re saying is that until recently, Libra was taking a shot in the dark?”

  “We are dealing with quantum theory here, Mr. Ridkin; quantum theory has never been one hundred percent possible when it comes to predicting the absolute outcome of experiments. Predictability of an experiment’s success in quantum physics is a random factor. We have found a fifty percent success rate to be quite acceptable.””

  Sam looked solemn. “Ah, you’ll have to excuse me; I was under the misunderstanding that precision is a fundamental part of what physicists do.”

  Frober sniggered. “Probability was a fundamental part of what we strived for, but ‘precision’ – no. We have never claimed we could achieve precision. We are more than pleased with a fifty percentile success rate.”

  Hunter winced. “Probability - that hardly makes me too thrilled about probability and my body. I mean to say, you’re plannin’ to safely ship me back to a parallel universe, right?” His flustered panic increased with each word. “What if your shot in the dark misses its target, what if I end up in the Coliseum - you know – fightin’ off a fuckin’ lion?”

  Frober enjoyed Hunter’s panic attack. “Steady, Agent Hunter. All possible outcomes that can take place in a parallel universe do in fact, take place. Technically, randomness is a subjective aspect of reality. Here at Libra, we have completed a great deal of advanced research with regard sub-atomic particle transfer. We have solved the issues of several inconsistencies in standard quantum theory. Have done away with non-locality, or entities at different locations.”

  Frober chortled and made a pretend thrusting move as though imitating a gladiator wielding a sword. “Therefore Agent Hunter, your surprise arrival during the emulation of the Scipio Africanus defeat at the hands of the Barbarian horde will never eventuate. We are able to pinpoint your location to within a one mile radius of selected coordinates.”

  “Oh good, now I’m a happy camper,” Hunter said sarcastically. “Just when I was gonna watch a rerun of Gladiator.”

  Frober grinned. “No doubt, Agent Hunter – a favorite scene. Our computer ability has bounded forward. We have long mastered the quantum computer and are actively perfecting photon experimentation.”

  Frober paused, stared for several seconds at Hunter as though analyzing his comprehension skills.

  Hunter: “But these prototypes, are they as good as the equipment the guys upstairs are usin’?”

  “These are the first chambers and are quite up to standard. Yes, you may rest assured these chambers are roadworthy.”

  Sam analyzed the body language and when the staring became icy he let out a ponderous sigh. “Hunter’s skills lay in areas far removed from quantum theory. That, Doctor, is your job. If you’re as proficient at your craft as Hunter is at his, well then, we’ll have nothing to be concerned about.”

  Frober nodded in agreement. “While our friends at CERNA needlessly studied more technical aspects of the theory, Libra reached the conclusion that quantum effects constantly divide the universe into multiple diverging copies.”

  Sam stepped in. “Listen, my main concern here is this, when are you guys gonna bring my team back?”

  Frober appeared dubious. He slouched in his chair. “I am the first to admit we are somewhat limited. There are only four of us working in this subterranean museum. We have the dogs, some comforts and adequate food supply, but the men above, Danzig, Bosch, Beckman, and of course our friend le Blanc, they have schemed to implement the plutonium water contamination plan for some time. In its initial stages, we objected strongly to the plan and that objection caused extreme trepidation.”

  Hunter asked, “And you all got pink slips, right?”

  “Pink slips?”

  “Sacked! You dissenters were all
terminated.”

  Frober passed Hunter a wry grin and shook his head. “Terminated is an appropriate choice of words. We were to drive down to the resort. There was a skirmish between two of the dogs as we were about to leave the facility, one of the animals had fouled itself in a run of computer terminal wires requiring three of us to repair the damage. The car in which we were to travel met with an untimely accident on the snow covered mountain road. An avalanche drove it off a cliff. A group of recruits with the Avalanche training center on the Gurschenalpsay hurried to the site. They said the Mercedes disintegrated mid-air, not on impact. Investigators believe an explosion preempted the avalanche.”

  Hunter was stunned at what he was hearing. He asked, “They found no remains?”

  “Correct. Other than avalanche trainees and Swiss Army units, no one comes to this part of the valley, not this deep between the mountains.”

  “Your two associates,” Sam asked as if afraid of the answer, “where are they?”

  “With your imminent arrival they set about refurbishing the two original chambers for the transfer.”

  “Two?” Sam said apprehensively. “I’m not going anyplace, so you just need one for Hunter.”

  Hunter placed a little more distance between himself and Sam. “Oh, good,” he snorted. “Solid support, just what I need to hear.”

  Frober quickly corrected the misunderstanding. “No, no, no, Mr. Ridkin. The other chamber is not for you.”

  “Then for who?”

  “For Bruno.”

  “Bruno?

  Frober looked about, placedthe tip of a pinky finger in each corner of his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. A minute or so later a large German Shepherd romped into the room and sidled up to Frober.