“Certainly.” Sarah stood up nervously. “I'll call you at once.” She hurried our of the room.
For a few moments Graham stood at his desk, shaking his head. “I can't believe it,” he said to himself. “My mother dies and everyone is so frightened that they won't even give me a simple ‘Sorry to hear it.’” He sat down slowly and stared at the wall.
CHAPTER 17
TWENTY MINUTES LATER Graham walked briskly into the large conference room in Mayor Bridges's office. “Good morning,” he said in a flat voice.
Jake Pemrose had already staked out his usual seat at the table with Jack Stratton sitting across from him. Bill Marks came in ahead of Graham. The men shook hands, made polite conversation, but no one mentioned Maria Peck's death. Moments later Frank Bridges marched in with Al Meacham. Bridges was wearing Dockers and a pullover sweater. The attack obviously caught him by surprise. The men sat down quickly and silence settled over the room.
“Graham, I appreciate your being here this afternoon,” Bridges opened the meeting. “We obviously have another crisis staring us in the face. The explosion this morning was a terrorist attack of some order.” He shook his head. “A bomb was set off in the basement that destroyed much of the museum and killed several hundred people. Maybe more. I got a call on my way here from the president that slowed me getting to this meeting. He'll send us any assistance that we need.”
“You're sure it was a terrorist attack?” Graham inserted the question forcibly.
“You always ask the jackpot question,” Bridges answered. “We're not certain. The issue will keep the police and the Homeland Security people busy until it's answered definitively.”
“Then, it could have been a local extremist?” Graham leaned back in his chair. “Possibly an accident?”
Bridges pulled nervously at the sweater he was wearing. “I doubt it,” he said with cold resoluteness. “But we can't breathe a word on this subject.” He looked slowly around the room at each man. “Are we all clear that no one can allow any leaks on Graham's question?”
“Sure, boss!” Al Meacham answered. “You know you can trust us.”
“This is a sensitive issue,” Bridges said. “We can't afford any slip-ups. My opponent is going to scream that we aren't providing citizens with adequate security. We've got to face this problem before it avalanches.” He looked at Graham. “How would you answer that one, Peck?”
Graham blinked a couple of times. “I'd ask him if he thinks that the president of the United States was not guarding the country when the bombs went off on the boat in the Long Beach harbor. Does he think he's smarter than the American military?”
Bridges stared for a second and then broke out in a broad grin. “Graham, you're a genius! Excellent answer.”
Murmurs of approval drifted around the room.
“I like that answer!” Bridges said enthusiastically. “I'm certainly glad I thought of it.”
The men chuckled again.
“Okay!” Bridges walked to his blackboard. “I've been thinking about how we'll respond to the entire problem and I've already talked with the president about this idea.” The mayor picked up his laser pen and bounced it up and down in his hand. “I've got a word I want to make sure you all know.” He started writing on the blackboard. “Nanotechnology,” Bridge said as he wrote. “It's the most radical technology in human history. We're talking man-made machines about the size of 100 nanometers or about 100 billionths of a meter. That's a device one thousand times smaller than the diameter of a human hair.”
“A human hair?” Jake Pemrose sat up in his chair. “Man-made?”
“You've got it!” the mayor answered. “These tiny machines chines are, in effect, miniaturized computers that can literally crawl through arteries. Nanomachines are able to lighten or darken your skin. These creations can literally be painted on your arm and no one would ever know it's there!”
“Are you talking science fiction?” Bill Marks asked skeptically.
“No,” Bridges answered. “The government has been secretly spending billions of dollars a years to perfect these gadgets. They've got a few nanomachines working now that could transfer garbage dumps into energy. The president tells me they've got nanomachines that can be coated on your house to generate electricity. How does that hit you?” Bridges smiled broadly.
“Where you going with this?” Graham asked cautiously.
“Citizens want security,” Bridges answered. “They are terrified—they want to know what the city is doing to fight these attackers. It doesn't make any difference if they're local or international. They want to know that we are providing adequate coverage. Now we've got it.”
“How?” Peck pushed.
“We can coat an easily accessible part of their bodies… say their foreheads… with a solution that carries nano-devices; they will tell us if that person is security approved. We can cover the entire population of the metroplex with invisible security. What do you think of that idea?”
“Are you serious?” Pemrose asked. “I mean is this another political gimmick to keep people happy for a while?”
“No!” Bridges snapped. “I'm talking about a way we can actually create a quick system to tell who is acceptable to our police officers and who isn't. We would be able to identify a terrorist immediately.”
“Remarkable,” Jack Stratton said. “And it only takes someone painting these nanomachines on a forehead?”
“They'll never wash off,” Bridge insisted. “Once the device is on the skin we can find anyone by simply punching in their social security numbers on a computer and they'll come up like a flashing light.”
“How would we come at this politically?” Pemrose asked. “That's a sensitive issue for this current campaign.” He lit a cigar. “People might be cautious about such an unusual idea.”
“Cautious?” Bridges grinned. “I'll tell you exactly how we'd turn fear into our ally.” He started pacing back and forth. “We'll let our worthy opponent make his attack, scaring people to death. Then, we'll be ready to hit him right between the eyes. We'll come back with our promise of providing total care for every citizen. All people have to do is come to a nanotechnology center and have an invisible dot painted on their foreheads. In a second, they will be protected for life. Mayor Frank Bridges has provided them with an immediate answer.”
“Brilliant!” Meacham said. “We give our opponent the rope he needs to hang himself. Then, we go riding off into the sunset with him swinging from a tree.”
“And who would you vote for under those circumstances, boys?” Bridges asked confidently.
“Are these nanomachines available right now?” Graham asked.
“There's still a few problems they are ironing out, but the president tells me he can provide us with the security devices in around two weeks,” Bridges said. “He's thinking about using them all over the country anyway. In a very short time we could cover this city. Other than the time it takes to stand in line, people would have this nanomachine put on their heads with the touch of a cotton swab. Bingo! It's done.”
“How much time will it take before our opponent hits this fear theme?” Stratton asked.
“I'd give him twenty-four hours,” Bridges said cynically. “Let him scream and holler for a couple of days. That's about all it will take to get this show started.”
“Sounds right to me.” Pemrose tapped his cigar into an ashtray. “During the next two or three days we'll be secretly getting our operation set up to spring on the public.” He pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “We've already talked about adding more surveillance cameras. I say, let's do it!”
The men nodded their approval, but Graham sat quietly pondering what he was hearing. The idea might be political dynamite and it frightened him. This nanotechnology business was a door into a dream world that could turn into a nightmare. They were playing with the possibilities of technological disaster.
“I appreciate your affirmation, gentlemen.” Bridges smiled broa
dly, but he kept watching Graham, obviously noticing his reluctance. “I'll be talking further with the president this afternoon. Let's see where this takes us. Remember! For the time being, everything is confidential.”
Pemrose and Meacham got up and hurried toward the door. Marks and Stratton followed them; only Graham stayed seated. Bridges erased what he had scribbled on the board, but kept looking over his shoulder. Graham knew he was watching him.
“You seem to have some reservations?” Bridges turned around from the board.
“Frank, are we moving a little fast here?”
“What do you mean, Graham?”
Graham smiled at the typical Bridges retort. “We could be opening a can of mechanical worms that'll chew our heads off.”
“Explain.” Bridges kept smiling.
“What about the security aspect of these nanotechnology machines, Frank? After these devices are in place, wouldn't everyone be under the constant surveillance of the government? I mean… couldn't the police instantly grab anyone who comes up on the computer as a suspect for anything under the sun?”
“Well, Graham, I'm not even remotely considering putting people at risk. My idea is to isolate the terrorist.”
“I understand. However, in terms of surveillance the result is actually the same. People would no longer have privacy.”
“Have you talked with anyone about this?” Bridges asked.
“No, of course not. I just heard you present the idea a few moments ago.”
“Let's not spread this concern, Graham. It could create the wrong response.”
“I understand and I'm not trying to wave any red flags. I'm simply asking you a question. Wouldn't this make people easy targets for the government?”
“I'll think about it,” Bridges said slowly, “but right now our concern is to keep people from getting killed. That's our big problem. Security!”
“Security today—arrest tomorrow?”
Bridges smiled. “That's a little dark, isn't it?”
“My question is whether it's a possibility or not.”
“I think we need to put that problem on the back burner, Graham. Let's keep it between us.” Bridges winked. “Okay?” He waved and headed for the door.
“Whatever you say, sir.” Graham slowly stood up. “Sure. We can talk about it later.” He watched Bridges disappear.
Graham started back down the hall, watching people nod and smile to each other, but saying nothing to him. The silence bothered him, but he kept thinking about the mayor. He didn't like the possible involvement with Borden Carson and the Royal Arab Petroleum Company, but he was far more terrified about the nanomachines. They could be walking into a dark, dark tunnel.
CHAPTER 18
MATTHEW PECK slowly closed the door to his dormitory room and started the long walk down the dim corridor. Over the decades thousands of outstanding students had lived in the hallowed halls, lending an atmosphere of studiousness and honor to being there, but today none of the accoutrements of accomplishment touched Matthew. His grandmother's death had shaken him to the core, killing his usual desire for one of the campus pubs. Rather than his normal brisk step, Matthew slowly dragged himself through the dormitory.
“Hey man, sorry to hear about the tragedy in your family.” A student stepped out of his room.
“Yeah.” Matt nodded to the young man who lived several rooms down from him. He still didn't know the guy's name. “Thanks.” He kept walking.
“Everyone's talking about the… ah… shooting,” the student said over his shoulder. “What a bummer.”
“Yeah.” Matt walked faster.
The last thing he wanted was to be the topic of local conversation, the poster child for home violence. He didn't want notoriety and being the subject of everyone's rambling speculations was at the bottom of his “to do” list. Ducking out the dorm's side door, he hurried across the parking lot, hoping to avoid anyone who might have heard the tragic story.
Ten minutes later Matt walked into the library and found a table by the wall next to the stained glass windows and out of the flow of students entering and leaving the library. Slinking down in his chair, Matt pulled out his economics textbook and thumbed through the pages. For the next hour, he studied persistently without looking up.
“Hi, Matt.”
Matthew looked over his shoulder. To his surprise a girl was standing behind him.
“Oh, hello!”
Jennifer Andrews sat down next to him and laid her books on the table. “I heard about the terrible shooting,” she said sympathetically. “I was so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Matt said. He had known Jennifer since high school. Although they hadn't spent any time together, she had always been a warm, friendly face. “I appreciate your kind words.”
“I don't really live that far from your house, you know. Well, maybe you don't know. Actually, my parents' home is probably about a mile away from Crown Point. My folks moved to that end of town to try and get away from the mob moving out of downtown Chicago. Looks like we didn't move far enough.”
“The bums are everywhere. Since the economy got so tight, there are far too many people roaming the streets. I guess my grandmother just didn't see this thug coming.”
“How tragic,” Jennifer said. “I know this has been an extremely painful time for you.” She smiled with warmth and understanding. “I understand.”
Matt thought it strange that he had never really paid any attention to this attractive young woman with the dancing blue eyes. He vaguely remembered her as being uninteresting a couple of years ago, but that had obviously changed. Jennifer had turned into an alluring young woman.
“Dealing with someone's death is so, so hard,” Jennifer continued. “you have all of my sympathy.”
“Th-thank you,” Matt mumbled.
“I mean it. My grandmother died of a heart attack a year ago. We didn't see her that often, but she was such a warm, caring person and I deeply felt her loss.”
“My grandmother lived with us.”
“Oh, that makes everything much more difficult.” Jennifer took a deep breath. “Well, if I can be of any help please let me know.” She smiled. “I mean it.”
“Jennifer, I don't want to be presumptuous…”
“You won't be.”
“Did you ever think about what happens to a person when they die?”
Jennifer blinked several times. “Sure. It's a scary thought.”
“I don't even know how to imagine what's happened to my grandmother. Where's she gone? What's become of her? I can't believe she disappeared into nothingness without a trace.”
“I understand,” Jennifer said. “After all of those people disappeared six months ago, it really terrified me. No one had any insight or knowledge about where they had gone. Yeah, I thought about it a lot.”
“And?” Matt motioned with his hand for her to say more.
“And I started looking for anyone who could tell me something. My folks finally told me to buzz off, but then I stumbled across a group right here on campus. No one has helped me as much as these students.”
“Students? What would they know?”
Jennifer grinned. “More, much more than you would expect. They have really helped. And there's a few adults that add tremendous insight.”
“Rather unusual for kids to have anything to tell you.”
“Well, these kids really are good! They have opened my eyes to concepts that I didn't know existed. Death was one of them. I think they could help you.”
Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I must have missed the notices of their meetings. Usually they're posted on the dormitory bulletin boards somewhere.”
“Oh, these people's names would never appear in public.” Jennifer leaned forward and spoke more softly. “They don't publish the meeting places. They are more of an underground group.”
“Really!” Matthew grinned. “Now that really gets my attention. What are they called?”
“New Seekers.” Je
nnifer lowered her voice.
“Awesome. I like the sound of the name.”
“You'd like the people. They are an honest, inquiring group. They talk about questions like living and dying, what's going on in the world today. You'd be surprised at the book they study. New Seekers has helped answer some of my most important questions.”
“Jennifer, you've got my attention. In fact, you're the first person who's given me any direction. The people at the funeral home just blew me off. Everybody else seems to see me as a curiosity.”
“I think you'd be surprised by what this group has to say about the meaning of existence. You can really talk to them.”
“When do they meet?”
“As a matter of fact, the group will be meeting this evening. I'd be glad to have you come with me.”
“Excellent! I'd love to sit in on a discussion. When do they meet?”
“You got a car?”
Matt nodded his head. “You bet.”
Jennifer started scribbling on a piece of paper. “Here's my address where you can pick me up. Make it about seven o'clock.”
“Where does this group meet?”
Jennifer smiled. “Actually, it's a secret. They only want people to know about them who share their concerns. To avoid publicity they move the meeting place around and never announce it except just before the meeting. Sometimes having people know about you can get you in more trouble than you want.”
“Hey, this really is formidable.”
Jennifer squeezed his hand. “Sorry about your grandmother.” She picked up her books and started toward the door. “I'll see you tonight.”
Matthew waved and watched Jennifer disappear down the aisle. The door at the other end of the library closed behind her, but he kept looking. “Can't believe it! What a lead!” he said softly to himself.
CHAPTER 19
I WAS JUST ABOUT to call you,” Dr. Paul Gillette said. “Yes, I'll come right down.” He hung up his private phone and rushed out of his seldom-used back door without informing his secretary.
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