Dangerous Minds

by Janet Evanovich

  Emerson nodded. “Yes. It wouldn’t make any sense, at least from an economic point of view, to build a one-hundred-billion-dollar facility to mine osmium. There’s something else going on.”

  “Could they be possibly trying to drain the lava lake?” Riley asked. “Maybe they’re trying to relieve some of the pressure to prevent an explosion.”

  “I doubt it. Where, then, are they dumping all the lava they’re removing? And, frankly, I would think it could just as easily have the opposite effect and destabilize the area, sort of like the effects from hydraulic fracking.”

  The Humvee parked in front of the Quonset warehouse, and the soldiers patrolling the compound rushed over to the truck.

  Riley watched the door to the hut open. A tall man in a white lab coat walked out and went to the truck.

  “Isn’t that Eugene Spiro, the chief scientist for the National Park Service, who we met back at the Department of the Interior?” Riley asked.

  “It is. Looks like the gang’s all here.”

  The soldiers opened the rear door to the truck and carefully removed a large metal container that looked like an inner tube connected to a battery-operated power source. The chief scientist pointed toward the warehouse and followed them inside, along with Tin Man and the director. A couple minutes later they all exited and walked into a large construction trailer that obviously served as a makeshift office.

  “Looks like a meeting for the American Society of Ruthless Psychopaths,” Riley said.

  Emerson smiled. “I tend to agree. How do you feel about doing a little snooping?”

  “I’m against it.”

  “Are you totally against it?”

  “Yes.”

  “When you say ‘totally’ do you mean one hundred percent? As in, it’s not even open to discussion?”

  “I guess I’m willing to talk about it,” Riley said.

  Emerson crept through the compound toward the rear of the warehouse.

  “Great,” he said, motioning to Riley to follow him. “Let’s talk about it while we do some snooping.”

  They snuck around to the rear of the warehouse. There was a small window about six feet off the ground, and Emerson knelt down on his hands and knees in front of it. “Why don’t you take a look?”

  Riley stood on Emerson’s back and peered through the little window. “What am I supposed to be looking for?” she asked.

  “Just describe to me what you see.”

  “It’s a high-tech lab of some sort. There’s a giant vat in the middle of the room connected to a lot of machinery I don’t recognize, except for a bigger version of the metal donut that was in the back of the transport.”

  “Interesting. Is there anybody there?”

  Riley climbed down off Emerson. “No. It looks like everyone’s left.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you can just forget about that,” Riley said. “There’s absolutely no way I’m walking into the lion’s den. Tin Man could be back any minute.”

  “Now, when you say ‘absolutely no way,’ does that mean absolutely one hundred percent or just 99.9 percent?”

  “This is crazy,” Riley said. “It’s practically suicidal.”

  Emerson studied the rear door. “If I can’t guess the six-digit combination to this door we’re not getting in regardless of whether it’s crazy or not.”

  “Six digits. That’s a million different possibilities. It will take us all night, assuming we don’t get caught.”

  Emerson punched a number into the keypad, and the red light on the door stayed lit. He thought a moment and tried again. There was an audible click, and the light turned green.

  “I don’t believe it,” Riley said.

  Emerson shrugged. “Sixty-seven percent of the time people choose a birthday or anniversary for the combination when it’s exactly six digits. In this case, it had to be a birthday that everyone in this compound could remember. One that’s important to all of them. The first one I chose was 102758, Teddy Roosevelt’s birthday. The second was 082516, the birthday of the National Park Service.”

  “I think I would have preferred that you failed to guess the combination.”

  Emerson opened the door and waited for Riley to enter. “I got lucky. I’m feeling extra discerning today.”

  Riley and Emerson crept around the dimly lit warehouse, trying to get their bearings. Everything was pristinely clean, including the glass-tiled floor. A variety of white workstations, complete with everything you’d find in chemistry class, occupied one corner of the room. In another corner, robotic arms in a state of constant activity were connected to large pieces of freestanding machinery, each one enclosed behind three inches of what seemed to be bulletproof glass. The large metal donut sat in the center of it all.

  Riley walked over to Emerson. He was staring at a big red button on the wall. “Emerson, you’re not thinking about pushing that button, are you?”

  Emerson continued to stare at the button. “I was giving it some serious consideration.”

  Riley grabbed him by the arm. “Remember when you once told me it was your life’s ambition to avoid terrible ideas?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I’m telling you that anytime there’s a big red button and you don’t know what it does, it’s a really awful decision to push it.”

  “The problem is that is exactly what the button wants you to think. I think we should push it.”

  “No.”

  Emerson looked over toward the front door. “Is someone coming back?”

  Riley turned to look, and the white milky glass tiles she was standing upon turned clear, revealing a swirling swimming pool–sized pit of boiling red magma beneath her feet.

  “Holy crap,” Riley said. “What the heck?”

  Emerson stared at the magma. “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day. The floor must be made of electric glass.”

  Riley cut her eyes to Emerson. “You pushed the red button when I wasn’t looking, didn’t you?”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said no,” Emerson said.

  “Try me.”

  Emerson looked at Riley. “No.”

  Riley shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Emerson said. “It’s a big red button.”

  Riley threw her arms up in the air. “For the love of Mike, Emerson. Why can’t you just be the sort of guy who leaves his shoes all over the house or can never find his car keys? I just don’t think I’m the sort of woman who can ever be with a guy who goes around just willy-nilly pushing red buttons.”

  “I propose a compromise,” Emerson said. “I’ll continue to push big red buttons, just not in a willy-nilly fashion.” He looked at her for a long moment. “About the button pushing and stuff. Are you considering a relationship with me?”

  “Um, maybe. I mean, I am your amanuensis. Are you considering a relationship with me?”

  “It’s crossed my mind,” Emerson said.

  “Is it because you saw me naked?”

  “Not entirely, but I think about it a lot.”

  “In a good way?”

  “Sort of in a Vernon way,” Emerson said.

  “Vernon is a horndog.”

  “I might also be one.”

  Riley had no idea where to go with this. She supposed she was happy Emerson was attracted to her, but she didn’t know about him being a horndog. “Horndog” didn’t exactly describe the man of her dreams.

  “We should get on with it,” Riley said.

  Emerson nodded. “My exact thought.”

  He walked the perimeter of the pit. It was almost as big as the warehouse itself.

  “It’s a platinum swimming pool filled with lava,” Emerson said. “There’s even an intake pipe where the lava gets pumped in, presumably from the drills outside, and an outtake. I’m guessing it eventually gets returned to flow underground.”

  Riley thought that mad
e sense. There wasn’t any evidence in the area of lava being dumped aboveground.

  “Why aren’t the glass tiles melting?” she asked.

  Emerson got down on his knees and examined the floor. “It’s not glass. It’s some kind of a transparent ceramic. It’s an excellent insulator, so it protects us from the heat, and obviously it won’t melt unless temperatures reach well above five thousand degrees.”

  “Is transparent ceramic a real thing?” Riley asked.

  “It’s a technology used in products ranging from clear orthodontic braces to armored car windows. I’ve never heard of anybody using it for a swimming pool cover. Of course, I’ve never heard of a swimming pool filled with lava either.”

  One of the larger machines on the other side of the room lit up, and a steady stream of magma filled its transparent ceramic enclosure. The robotic arms inside went into operation, pushing the lava through a filter and separating it into different portions. The smaller portion was transferred to another enclosure, where robotic arms again went to work. The larger portion was flushed underground where it gurgled as it moved through the plumbing, eventually flowing outside and away from the warehouse.

  Riley watched the robotic arms busy at work. “They’re looking for something in the lava, aren’t they?”

  Emerson nodded. “Definitely. Something much more valuable than money. Something worth killing over. Something that the government’s been protecting and keeping secret for more than a century.”

  They heard the sound of voices outside the warehouse, and the front entrance clicked open. Emerson pushed the red button, and the magma swimming pool disappeared behind the milky white floor. He grabbed Riley by the wrist and yanked her to a dark corner of the warehouse where a large tarp covered an unused piece of heavy machinery.

  Riley and Emerson hid under the tarp and listened as the door opened and the voices filled the room.

  Riley peered out from under the tarp. Tin Man, Eugene Spiro, and Bart Young were standing next to the large metal donut in the center of the room.

  Bart Young pointed at the smaller version of the donut. “Move everything into the portable Penning trap.”

  Spiro attached the smaller trap to the larger one using a coupling. “You’re taking all of it? Where?”

  “We have a parallel program in Hawaii,” the director said. “We can’t find Knight, and I’m not risking leaving any loose ends in light of how close we are to finishing. After today, it’s none of your concern.”

  Spiro went to one of the workstations and sat down in front of one of the computers. He typed in some instructions, and the smaller Penning trap powered up. “It will take a couple minutes for the transfer to be complete,” he said to the director. “How are you going to get it safely to Hawaii? You know how a Penning trap works, don’t you? It uses a magnetic field to store and isolate charged matter.”

  “Your point being?” the director said.

  “The point being that if you get a little unlucky and there’s a power interruption, then there’s no more magnetic field.”

  “And?” Tin Man asked.

  “No more magnetic field means that what’s inside isn’t isolated from the matter outside this canister,” Spiro said. “And, if that happens we’re all in a world of pain.”

  “Again, no longer your concern,” the director said.

  “I’ve spent ten years of my life developing this program,” Spiro said. “I don’t want to see it fail.”

  “This is not your program,” the director said. “You are an employee. And you should be very careful, because I’m not impressed with your performance. Ten years have passed, and you’ve only managed to collect a couple ounces.”

  “That’s enough to obliterate a continent. How much more do you need?”

  The director shrugged. “More.”

  “Collection is difficult. It takes time,” Spiro said.

  “You are no longer credible,” the director said. “It was your call to leave Knight alone. If I had listened to Tin Man in the first place, I wouldn’t be thinking about destroying a two-trillion-dollar facility and you wouldn’t be out of a job.”

  Spiro looked relieved that he was only fired. The penalty could have been much worse.

  “Why would this have to be destroyed?” Spiro asked.

  “Knight has money, and he knows powerful people,” the director said. “He also has a blog that’s read by thousands. If he learns enough and goes public with it, we’ll have all sorts of idiots crawling all over this facility. We won’t be able to kill them fast enough. Everyone from conspiracy theorists to Sunday hikers to political watchdogs will be here. Our plans will be savaged, and our technology will be discovered and stolen.”

  Spiro shook his head. “It will take a year to dismantle.”

  “On the contrary, one well-placed tactical nuclear device detonated in the underground lava lake beneath the dome should do the trick. The entire area will be buried under fifty feet of magma in no more than a day.”

  Spiro went pale. “It would destabilize the entire super-volcano. The entire park, not just the dome, could be buried under fifty feet of magma. If that happened, it could kill millions.”

  Tin Man smiled. “I knew there was a silver lining. I almost hope we don’t find Knight and Moon.”

  The director turned to Tin Man. “Always the optimist. From here on out, you’re in charge of Yellowstone. If you don’t find Knight and Moon in a week, or if there’s even a whisper about Sour Creek Dome on his blog, detonate the nuke.”

  The little Penning trap beeped and the green light on its side changed from blinking to solid.

  “The transfer is done,” Spiro said. “I’ll get someone to help us move it to the transport.”

  Tin Man watched Spiro leave the warehouse. “You’re not taking him with us?”

  “He’s leaving with us, but he won’t be walking off the plane in Hawaii. You know how I hate loose ends.”

  NINETEEN

  Emerson and Riley watched from their hiding place until the guards left with the portable Penning trap and the room was empty.

  “Wow,” Riley said. “What do you think they’ve got in that thing?”

  Emerson opened the warehouse’s back door a crack and peeked out. There was still a guard hanging around. “I don’t know. The concept of a Penning trap has been around since 1923.”

  “You don’t know enough to leave red buttons alone, but you know what year the Penning trap was invented.”

  “Hans Dehmelt won the Nobel Prize in Physics for its invention in 1989. It made a major impact in my life.”

  “You wanted to be a physicist?”

  “No, I wanted to be Captain Kirk. The Penning trap is basically a vacuum environment capable of containing charged antimatter in a magnetic prison. Antimatter is what makes warp speed possible, without which the starship Enterprise could never have explored strange new worlds.”

  “Could they be harvesting antimatter?”

  Emerson shook his head. “The universe is composed of nearly fifty percent antimatter. If you wanted to get your hands on some you wouldn’t have to tap into the earth’s core. Besides, a Penning trap that size wouldn’t hold enough to destroy this compound, let alone a continent.”

  “What else can a Penning trap hold?”

  “Plasmas.”

  “Let’s pretend I don’t know anything about physics or Star Trek.”

  “There are four types of ordinary matter—solids, liquids, gasses, and plasmas. Plasmas are the only type of matter that doesn’t naturally exist on the earth under normal surface conditions. They’re basically created from neutral gasses, like hydrogen, by ionizing them and giving them an electrical charge. Lightning, neon signs, television screens, and the aurora borealis are all examples.”

  “So are plasmas rare? Could that be what they’re collecting?” Riley asked.

  Emerson peeked out the door again. The guard was gone.

  “Plasmas are the most common type of ordinary
matter in existence,” Emerson said. “The sun and stars are all basically superheated balls of plasma. Plasmas are kind of the building blocks of the universe.”

  Riley and Emerson walked out into the cold night air and skirted around the perimeter of the compound. There was a lot of activity, but all the attention was focused on the transport and Humvee idling in front of the warehouse.

  “This is it,” Emerson said. “We’re not going to find a better time than this to make our escape.”

  They sprinted to the surrounding woods, and Riley breathed a sigh of relief when they were hidden from sight. “How far do you think it is back the gatehouse?”

  “Not far. Maybe a mile or two. It’s going to be slow going in the dark, though. I saw a lot of thermal features on the way in. I don’t want to accidentally fall into any pools of boiling water.”

  They trudged along the Jeep trail in silence for several minutes.

  “You know, Emerson, something you said back in the compound reminds me of something Professor White told us back at George Mason University.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That plasmas formed the building blocks of the universe,” Riley said. “Didn’t the professor say that mantle plumes contained trace amounts of cosmic leftovers—the same materials that formed the stars before the earth was created? She said they were a clue to the forces of creation.”

  Emerson stopped and stared at Riley. “I’m promoting you to senior amanuensis, effective immediately, for having invaluable insight and a brilliant memory.”

  “Thank you,” Riley said.

  “And because you look good naked,” Emerson added.

  “Would I still get the promotion if I didn’t look good naked?”

  “Yes, but you might not get the additional benefits.”

  Now that Riley knew Emerson was possibly a horndog, she had some idea of the benefits. She felt a rush of heat curl through her stomach and head south.

  “Good to know,” Riley said. “Do you know what’s in the Penning trap?”

  “No, not exactly, but I have a theory. I think it’s some cosmic remnant from the swirling nebula of stellar gasses that formed our solar system four and half billion years ago. Some very rare, very dangerous primordial element that can only be found at the earth’s core, and every once in a rare while a little bit of it bubbles to the surface, courtesy of a mantle plume volcano.”