The woman had a thick Creole accent. “Mr Pinsey’s in the back yard painting the railing. I’ll fetch him.”
As she disappeared down the hallway, footsteps emanated from upstairs. A young woman bounded down the staircase with the enthusiasm of a third-grader at the end of a school day. She took the last four steps in a single leap and landed with a deliberately loud thump. Her voice, high-pitched and squeaky, bubbled with excitement.
“Do you like The Dick Van Dyke Show? I have the first season on DVD!”
She was short and pencil-thin, and couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. Pale skin suggested she didn’t get outdoors much. Her yellow pajamas were imprinted with stars and rocketships.
“I have my own TV,” she bragged. “It’s in my room. Wanna see?”
It was difficult to estimate her age. Deep-set hazel eyes and a thinning hairline suggested she could be a contemporary of Keats. Yet her skin retained the tautness of a younger woman. Her demeanor and goofy entrance left no doubt she was Maurice Pinsey’s handicapped daughter.
She strode toward Aiden with an absurdly happy smile, not stopping until their faces were barely three inches apart.
“We could go to my room and watch the episode where Rob and Laura dance this new dance, the twizzle. It was filmed January 9th, 1962, but didn’t air until February 28th, 1962. Wanna see?”
“No thanks.” Aiden forced a smile as he backed away from the severe violation of his comfort zone.
“Daddy promised to buy me season two for my birthday.”
“Lucky you.”
“Watching old black and white TV shows is the best. Color ruins everything.”
“Bobbie!”
Startled, she whirled toward the booming male voice. Her expression mirrored that of a schoolgirl caught doing something naughty.
Maurice Pinsey entered the living room, trailed by the woman. The elder Pinsey was garbed in paint-splattered coveralls. He was nearly as thin as his daughter but taller, nearly six feet. His face was framed by a silvery pompadour and neatly trimmed beard.
Pinsey’s voice softened at the sight of Bobbie’s panic. “Honey, please go upstairs.”
“Daddy, are you mad at me?” She looked ready to cry.
“Of course not. But I need you to go back to your room for a while so I can talk to these men in private. Will you do that for me?”
“Daddy, I need to go to the bubble room first.”
“All right. Shaleah will take you.”
The woman took Bobbie’s hand and escorted her up the staircase.
“Shaleah, hurry!” Bobbie urged, trying to scamper ahead of her. “I gotta go real bad!”
They disappeared from view. Aiden guessed that the bubble room was her childish name for the bathroom.
Keats flashed his ID card from across the room, hoping Pinsey wouldn’t bother with a closer look. The tactic worked. Pinsey ignored the ID and launched into a rant.
“I don’t care who the hell you are or what spy agency you’re from! This is the second time in the past month that you people have invaded my home, and that’s twice too many! Can’t you get it through your thick skulls that I’m retired from government service.”
“Sorry,” Keats offered, adopting the sheepish expression of a dutybound bureaucrat. “But we need to talk a bit more about Tau Nine-One.”
“I told the other agents everything I could remember.”
“I’m afraid some important details may have been overlooked.”
“Why the reason for this sudden interest?”
“You know we can’t get into that. I’m sure the other investigators also informed you that this matter remains classified.”
“Fine. Then I have nothing further to say. You gentlemen need to leave.”
Keats hesitated, uncertain how to respond. Aiden chimed in. “I suppose we could mention last month’s incident.”
Keats went with the flow. “All right. First, understand that what I’m about to tell you remains classified.”
Pinsey gave an exaggerated sigh.
“There were some hikers killed near the Tau Nine-One perimeter. The men responsible may have been attempting an infiltration. That’s why the recent interest.”
“This is important, Dr Pinsey,” Aiden added. “We’d really appreciate your cooperation.”
“Fine, let’s just get it over with.”
He motioned them toward the sofa and turned on the chandelier. The dark room seemed even bleaker under its faint incandescent lighting.
“Bobbie is sensitive to sunlight. That’s why we keep the drapes closed,” Pinsey explained, settling into one of the high-backed chairs. “What are your questions?”
“We’d like you to tell us everything you know about Tau Nine-One,” Keats said.
“We’ll be here all night.”
“The short version. We’re especially interested in information pertaining to the quiver kids.”
Pinsey darkened. “You know I can’t talk about that, not even with you.”
Keats countered with a knowing smile. “Naturally we don’t expect you to violate any deep secrets. However, we’ve been running into roadblocks regarding the general background on the babies who received the infusions. Frankly, we need help. As the highest ranking scientist at Tau Nine-One back then, you could possess information that might seem innocuous, but prove valuable to our investigation.”
Aiden had to hand it to Keats, he was smooth. And Pinsey looked impressed that he knew even that much about the experiment. Still, their host wasn’t ready to ante up.
“Sorry. I can’t help you.”
“This is a matter of urgent national security.”
“The answer is no. I won’t talk about the quiver kids.”
Keats clearly wasn’t expecting to be chopped off at the knees. But it was obvious that Pinsey intended being even more guarded on the issue than Marsdale. Aiden decided it was time to scrap their original plan and go for a gut punch.
“Enough bullshit,” he snapped, glaring furiously at the older man.
His anger wasn’t all artifice. He was through being stonewalled. They needed to know – he needed to know – the details of Tau Nine-One’s most clandestine experiment.
“Listen very carefully, Dr. The quiver kid you once knew as Red is hunting down and killing his old crib mates. He caught Blue and burned him alive. Last night, Green barely escaped the same fate. Bottom line, we need answers before more of them die.”
Pinsey’s shock was palpable. “Red is murdering the others?”
“After torturing them.”
“Dear God!”
Pinsey slumped into the chair and squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to blot out the impact of Aiden’s words. But finally, his resolve stiffened.
“All right. I’ll tell you what I know.”
With a strange faraway look, Maurice Pinsey launched into a story more bizarre than anything Aiden could have imagined.
TWENTY-FOUR
“The year 1991 was more momentous than the average citizen realized,” Pinsey said. “The Gulf War began with air strikes against Iraq and the Cold War technically ended with the dissolution of the Soviet Union. But behind the scenes, it was also the year of an incredible discovery.
“Deep in the Montana Rockies, an old man was panning for gold in a mountain stream near a remote ordnance depot in the process of being mothballed. The old man suffered from a neurological disorder that caused tremors in his limbs, sometimes violent ones. One of these tremors caused him to stumble and land on his knees in the water.
“It was a fortuitous fall. Submerged in front of him was a smooth glassy stone partially embedded in sedimentary rock. He chipped the stone out of the rock and was surprised to find it perfectly spherical, about the size of a tennis ball. It was also unnaturally light, a fraction of the weight of a real tennis ball. Because his tremors had led to the discovery, he named it quiver.
“He sold the quiver stone to a science teacher living in Church
ton Summit, the nearest town, for seventy-five dollars. The teacher showed it to a friend, an army captain coordinating the depot’s closure. That’s how the discovery fell into the hands of the government.
“The old man and the teacher were given generous payoffs to buy their silence, and a research team was dispatched to the site. They retrieved the slab of rock in which it had been embedded and located the underground source of the stream. A cataclysmic flood in the distant past had broken off the slab and carried it to the surface. Dating of the rock strata revealed that the stone had been trapped in the rock for seventy thousand years.”
“Midpoint of the Tarantian stage,” Aiden interjected, giving Keats a knowing look. That had to be the basis for Red’s codeword for whatever was to happen Wednesday. It also explained Marsdale’s involvement. The discovery of the stone in seventy thousand year-old rock would have called for the expertise of a geologist specializing in stratigraphy.
Pinsey went on. “The former ordnance depot was taken over by a contingent from DARPA and renamed Tau Nine-One. Under DARPA’s auspices, many classified research initiatives have taken place there. But Tau’s main purpose was to study quiver.
“The stone yielded a number of extraordinary discoveries. It was composed of an ultra-lightweight substance with no Earthly parallel. At the subatomic level it was even more mysterious, defying the tenets of quantum theory, seemingly neither mass nor energy but some bizarre state in between. Some researchers theorized it was a sample of long-sought-after dark matter. Others believed it was the product of some fantastic manufacturing process.”
Keats raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking ETs here?”
“An extraterrestrial intelligence is one theory among many put forth. When I was still at Tau, the only thing most scientists agreed on was that quiver was not of this world. Possibly it arrived on Earth within a meteorite or some other vessel that disintegrated in our atmosphere seventy millennia ago. But even that’s just a guess. How it arrived and whether its arrival was accidental or deliberate has never been established.”
“If it was sent here, for what purpose?” Aiden asked.
“The answer to that question might well earn someone a Nobel Prize if quiver was ever made public. I can’t attest to current research. But judging from my experience in those early years, I doubt it will surrender its mysteries. In some respects, the more quiver was studied, the less it was understood.”
“So what’s your theory?” Aiden wondered.
“I’ve come to a simple but profound conclusion. We’re not meant to know.”
Pinsey grew silent, lost in thought.
“Why aren’t we meant to know?” Aiden prodded.
“Having accepted Jesus Christ as my savior, I now realize there are questions in this life that have no answers. Some things must be accepted purely on faith.”
In light of what had been done to Aiden as a child, the answer sounded smug. His father had cited a famous quote originally about politics but later referenced to religion: that it was the last refuge of a scoundrel. Dad had a special disdain for people like Pinsey, who rationalized their foul deeds by cloaking them in the sanctuary of the church.
“And what about the quiver kids?” Aiden demanded, fighting another onrush of anger. “How do they figure into all this? How does your faith jibe with experimenting on babies?”
“It doesn’t. We were overcome by false pride, one of mankind’s greatest sins. Not a day goes by that I don’t look back on our foolish conceit, for not questioning the ethics of that experiment. Believe it or not, our intentions were noble. They arose from what was, and likely still is, quiver’s most amazing quality.”
TWENTY-FIVE
From upstairs came the faint echo of voices. Pinsey cocked his head toward the sound, straining to hear. When he continued his tale, his voice bore resignation and regret. Aiden also had the impression of a man glad to get something off his chest.
“As one of the numerous research initiatives, quiver was brought into contact with various test mammals, up to an hour of direct skin exposure at a time. The tests were meant to ascertain if it had any effect on them. Nothing was apparent, at least not when the animals were more than about a month old. But something amazing occurred when they were very young. Infantile test subjects who came into physical contact with quiver, even for as little as ten seconds, displayed an immediate escalation of intelligence. Mice and hamsters grew up learning to navigate mazes faster. Rhesus monkeys demonstrated increased problem-solving capabilities. As these subjects were tracked, the intellectual advantages appeared to be permanent.
“We could never figure out what quiver did to cause such neurological changes. There were no indications it was being absorbed through the skin and entering the bloodstream. Necropsies revealed nothing. Yet some sort of osmosis clearly had taken place with these young test subjects.
“The potential was astounding. If quiver could likewise increase intelligence in humans, we might put an end to mental handicaps. Individuals with already high intellects perhaps could be elevated to genius level. From the military’s standpoint, raising the IQ of the average soldier might create an army capable of outwitting its enemies. Other researchers dreamed of an even grander notion, giving an IQ boost to the entire planet, enabling humanity to overcome its petty ignorances, and work together toward global harmony.”
Pinsey barked a cynical laugh. “The hubris! As if we mortals could take the place of God in heaven.”
“So you tested quiver on human babies,” Aiden said.
“Not at first. Initially, we used adult volunteers, hoping that there would be a similar effect. But there was no discernible escalation of intelligence. That mirrored what occurred when test animals more than a month old were given the infusions. The IQ boost was only triggered in mammals with a high degree of cerebral plasticity, specifically when the neocortex – the part of brain most associated with abstract thought and problem solving – remained in the early stages of development. So we took the next logical step.”
“Who exactly is we?” Aiden asked.
“The three of us in charge. Myself, Colonel Jenkins and the project director, Dr Ana Cho.”
Aiden recalled his green dream, the three giants peering down into what Marsdale had suggested was his crib. Two men and a woman. He was more certain than ever of his earlier hunch. They were the trio from Tau Nine-One.
Pinsey went on. “We knew that obtaining official approval for such an experiment was doubtful. So we initiated it on our own.”
Keats looked surprised. “You kept Washington in the dark?”
“Not exactly. Many higher-ups at the Pentagon knew what we were doing or learned about it shortly after the experiment began. In private, they supported our efforts. And Colonel Jenkins was skilled at averting excessive oversight.
“As the three of us were setting up the experiment, we debated how many human infants to include. We mutually arrived at the same number: six.” Pinsey frowned. “The symbolism didn’t become clear to me until years later.”
“What symbolism?” Aiden asked.
“I’ll get to that in a moment. Six newborn orphans were found, three boys and three girls. They were given infusions, a fancy way of saying they were brought into skin contact with quiver so that the osmosis could occur. We reasoned that the experiment was harmless and had no downside. If successful, the babies would grow up smarter and thus have a better chance of overcoming the social deficits of beginning their lives as orphans. They would be nurtured in a supportive environment, given the best medical care available. When the time came for them to leave Tau, everything possible would be done to place them in good homes.
“But things didn’t go as planned. In the eighteen months or so that the babies remained in our care, no measurable improvements in mental acuity were detected beyond statistical norms. We wondered if the IQ boost might require more time to reveal itself in human subjects.
“But then someone at the White House learned of
the experiment and, fearing a public outcry, demanded we terminate. We were ordered to put the babies up for adoption immediately, ahead of our schedule. Our original plan had been to keep them at Tau until they were at least three years old, until they learned to talk and maybe could relate anything unusual they were experiencing.
“Still, we held out hope for a delayed reaction. Only adoptive homes where one or both parents were highly intelligent were considered. It was felt that any intellectual gains due to the infusions would be amplified by being around smart, creative people.”
“And you continued tracking their progress from afar,” Aiden concluded.
Pinsey vehemently shook his head. “Absolutely not. We desired to do so, of course. But the powers-that-be were too appalled by what we’d done. The three of us were reprimanded, our careers impacted. Colonel Jenkins, as the one ultimately in charge, took the brunt of Washington’s displeasure. He received a dishonorable discharge, posthumously. I later heard that his family suffered great hardship from the loss of his military pension.”
Pinsey went quiet for a time, submerged in a well of sorrow and regret. A part of Aiden felt as if he should have sympathy for the old man. But he didn’t.
“What about the adoptions?” he demanded.
“Washington was paranoid about the possibility that the children could be tracked down and the illicit nature of what we’d done revealed to the world. Under the threat of worse sanctions – imprisonment for treason was mentioned – the three of us were instructed to do the adoptions on our own, then destroy all files related to the placements as well as to the experiment itself.”
“Considering how you deceived Washington,” Aiden argued, “why would they trust you to do all that on your own?”
“Politics 101,” Keats said. “You want to make sure that someone else does your dirty work. Keep your own hands clean. Attempting direct oversight risks leaving a paper trail that could come back to haunt them.”
Pinsey nodded. “We were ordered to have no further contact with the children and never reveal the details of the experiment.”
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