by Rob Buckman
“I don’t suppose he kept any of the equipment?”
“I didn’t ask, but I will: he still has a lease on the place, you know, he still picks up overflow work.” Kim rubbed his tired eyes and slumped down in front of the computer.
“Get onto him again and see what you can find out. Also if we can sublease, or buy him out. I want to get a look at that equipment.”
“How high shall I go?”
“Your discretion, but bargain, don’t give away the store and make him suspicious.”
“Right, Chief, I’m on it.” Kim yawned, and again, and gulped down half a cup of coffee. It was going to be another long day.
* * * * * *
Kim whistled to get their attention. “Good news, guys and gals. Thinking the owner might come back, and because of Sharia law, the old boy wrapped everything up in plastic and placed it in the back room of the warehouse for safekeeping.”
Karl’s exhaustion lightened. “That’s great, what else?”
“He had also arranged a sublease with the gentleman, but strictly under the table, since according to his lease … he couldn’t do it.”
“So there’s a possibility this missing renter is still alive,” Karl mused.
“A possibility, but where do we look?” Sandra said. “If he’s vanished for some reason, how on earth are we going to find him?”
“Kim-san, did you check the local hospital and records, to see if he died?”
“Yes, that was his first assumption, but there was nothing.”
Annette spoke up. “Karl, if you were living in, say, Moscow in 1950, and someone walked away from their business, home, property, and valuable equipment, and there was no record of an accident or death, what would you suspect?”
“Shit, that’s easy, the KGB of course.”
“Exactly.”
“But they don’t have secret police here, or for that matter, any secrets.”
“But they do have the religious police,” Sandra said, “or ‘State Security’ as they like to call them, and what’s the main purpose of that organization?”
Kim considered this. “As far as we’ve been told, and from what we know, they act as a worldwide police force.”
“Yes, true, but what else do they do, besides that?” she asked.
Karl had to think a second. “Well, before that, they were concerned with the suppression of any weapons technology, and political or religious radicals, elements that might upset the system.”
“So what does that suggest to you?” Sandra asked.
“Sandra, this isn’t a weapon, at least not by their … or even our definition!”
“So why were only four of these rings ever made? As you pointed out, they were a perfect transportation system, and much, much more.”
“Humm! I see what you mean. If someone wanted this technology, someone powerful, they could have it declared dangerous and have the poor sucker arrested.”
“And?”
“Which leaves us with two possibilities? One, they never got the secret out of him and killed him, or two, they’re still trying, and he’s still alive.”
Sandra nodded. “Right. And if he’s still alive, he would have to be in one of those so-called rehabilitation centers wouldn’t he?”
“It’s a stretch, but you could be right,” Karl said. “The question is, how do we go about finding him?” He turned to Kim. “Do we have a full name or any other identification of this person?”
“No, but I can get it.”
“Good, do it. Once we have that, and a means to identify this man, we start searching.”
The national record center didn’t have anything on such a person. Neither did any local agency they could tap into, and the more they dug, the deeper the mystery. It was as if this person had never existed. They were just about to give up when Kim tapped into the national population data bank.
“Bingo!” Kim yelled, waking them all up. “I’ve found him!” And he had. Not only was there a holographic picture, but also a full bio. It turned out that William Ellis was a professor of mathematics and quantum physics, married with no children, and his wife’s name was Marjorie Vivian Ellis. A crosscheck gave her current address, and showed she lived there alone. Now the question was: where is her husband, and was he still alive?
* * * * * *
At zero dark thirty, Scott’s comm started buzzing even before he’d had his first cup of coffee. Scott gave the communicator a sour look and continued to pour. He’d be dammed if he’d start another headache until he’d drunk his first cup. Hopefully the caller would give up and leave him in peace until he’d contemplated the early morning light. No such luck. The little monster just kept beeping at him.
“This had better be damn good, or else!” he barked into the comm.
“Touch grouchy this morning, are we?”
“Karl, I’m not in the mood.”
“That’s okay, skipper, I understand, it’s not as if I even went to bed last night … or was it the night before? … anyway, you wanted an update on the widget, so I need you and your cup of coffee to come over to my little workshop for a chat.”
Scott contemplated the comm for a moment. It was unlike Karl to couch his request that way, so it had to be something important he didn’t want to broadcast. “And I suppose you want me to bring a cup of my very special coffee for you.”
“Right. I just love that special brand you found.” That was a lie. Karl was a Marine first and could drink two-day-old coffee from a rusty tin can if he had to.
“See you in a while,” Scott mumbled, already pouring into a thermos.
His car and driver were waiting, as was his security team, and within ten minutes he was walking into Karl’s shop. Pam of course checked before permitting him to enter, but that was SOP now, seeing just Karl. His team was off somewhere, Pam told him.
Scott walked in to see Karl on the other side of the huge hangar. He walked over to the workbench and placed the thermos on top, only to have it almost snatched out of his hand.
“Whoa! How the hell did you do that?” When he came in Karl was standing by some sort of ring some fifty feet away on the other side of the hangar. There’s no way Karl could run or jump that distance in the time it took me to turn and place the thermos on the bench, Scott thought. Yet, he had.
Without a word, Karl stepped up to the ring closest to the workbench and stepped through, only to instantly appear fifty feet away by another ring on the other side of the hangar. Scott sat down with a thump. And sat there blinking as Karl stepped into … no, through the rings, back to the workbench. Karl had a “cat ate the canary” smile on his face while he poured a cup of coffee.
“I see it but I don’t believe it,” Scott managed. The video of this effect was one thing, seeing the rings in action was another and it hadn’t really penetrated his brain. The physics were way out of his league.
“You and me both, Admiral. It’s bloody impossible, but there it is.”
Scott stood and stepped into the ring, turning to see Karl on the other side of the hangar. He stepped back through and sat down again, deep in thought. It was one thing to see a short video of the effect, and another to step through the rings themselves.
“Can we reproduce or duplicate this?”
“Not yet. We have to round up the inventor and ask him.”
“I see,” Scott answered absently, his mind working at full speed. “What’s the distance these rings can be apart for it to still work?”
“Twenty-five miles at this time. That’s one experiment we did, but I think the rings aren’t affected by distance. First we need to get the inventor, a guy by the name of Ellis, and get him here now.”
“So?”
“We need to get into the police database … from what we suspect he’s been um … well … vanished.”
“Still alive?”
“Again unknown, until we get hold of Mrs. Ellis and find out. If he’s in one of those rehab centers, we’ll need to get into the rehab data
banks to find him.”
“I’ll get that for you … but if we can duplicate this …” Scott trailed off as myriad possibilities cascaded through his brain. “Karl, if we can duplicate this, you know what that means?”
“I think so.”
“Good god. This is the most important secret I have ever known.”
“Tell me about it. Why do you think I was so offhanded when I called?”
“I’m glad you were. We have to wrap this up tight, until we understand how to control … switch off … whatever you do with this thing. The fewer people who know about it the better.”
“Agreed.”
“If we can make larger or smaller versions of this, just think … God! Think how much space we can save on a warship by eliminating all the piping.”
“Damn, I hadn’t thought about that one, Admiral. I was just thinking of it as a transportation system.”
“It is. From what I can see you can transport anything: water, gas, oxygen, fuel, you name it.”
“Oh my lord …” Now it was Karl’s turn to go blank as he thought about those possibilities.
His thoughts galloping, Scott got hold of Pam and ordered her to have a full security detail around the next building over, 24/7, with heavy weapons and tanks. This building and its secrets had to be protected at all times, no matter what. Like Churchill once said, to protect one secret you have to surround it with a thousand lies. This was the edge Scott was looking for, and he wasn’t about to lose it due to lack of security like so many times before in history. Misdirection was key. Spies would attempt to get into the most heavily defended building based on the supposition that it contained the most valuable secrets.
“Karl. No one is to discuss this outside this building. Any and all information is to be placed in secure pads with no Wi-Fi, only hardwire between pads.”
“Right, good idea. I’ll also limit the number of pads we use so we can keep track.”
“I’d say download all the data each day into one pad and disintegrate the remainder. That way we only have one pad to guard, and no possibility of someone getting their hands on the others.”
“Very good point, but that’s going to take a lot of pads.” Karl smiled. “The manufacturer’s going to love you. We’ll also need a separate special security detail to protect that one pad at all times.”
“What puzzles me most is, how on earth did something as important as this end up as a carnival ride in some second-rate city?” Scott mused.
“I’m sort of going with the theory that some corporation grabbed this thing, but couldn’t get the secret of how it works out of the inventor. In the end, some bureaucrat just dumped it as a losing proposition.”
“Could be, Karl, but that doesn’t feel right. These rings are a world changer.”
“Agreed. But at least one of the corporations knows by now that we have the rings, so you can bet they’ll try to get their hands on any information we have by any means necessary.”
“Somehow we need to make the Alpha pad idiot-proof, so even if they do somehow get their hands on it they can’t access the data.”
“Between our new computer wiz kid, Lady Jane, or one of her sisters, they might be able come up with a foolproof security system. Those AI’s are just plain spooky in how human they are.”
“At least they can’t be bought, bribed, or forced to give up the data.”
“Right. I’ll have to see about providing security for the Ellises, if he’s still alive and once we have him.”
As he started walking to the building’s door, Scott stopped midstride. “Karl! I want a communications jammer placed on the roof, under the floor.”
“Huh?”
“If these people have a way of making ultra-miniature spy cams, or listening devices, they might be in the clothes of anyone coming into this building.”
“Shit! You’re right. We should also have everyone change into hazmat suits when they come into the building … in case they manage to smuggle in a recording device the bug zapper won’t kill.”
“Good point. Let’s do it.”
“I’ll get maintenance to build an airlock room for people to change in before they enter.”
“Until we have one hundred percent control, whatever that is, we shouldn’t take any chances this technology falls into the wrong hands.”
“S’truth, you got that right.”
* * * * * *
It was hard to obtain the access code for the rehab database, even with President Westwood’s assistance. The religious elite hating giving up data, even to the president himself. Finally, Westwood had to admit he couldn’t get the data. Scott smiled and thanked him, then called now-Lieutenant Allway.
“How are you doing, Lieutenant?” He saw her smile on the little screen of his comm unit, and smiled in return.
“Very well, sir. How can I help you?” Scott explained his problem, seeing her frown when he mentioned the SSP.
“Give me an hour, and I’ll have the data you need. Is there anyone in particular you’re looking for, sir?”
“I’ll give you that in person when you have the lists.” Allway instantly understood, and nodded before signing off. True to her word, she had the data in less than an hour, and came to Scott’s office in person.
The number of facilities was incredible, and put the old Soviet Union gulags to shame. The list of people detained in them ran into the millions, but within four minutes, Allway found the professor was being held at a rehabilitation center outside what was once San Diego. He’d been there for eight years on unspecified charges.
I don’t like it, Scott,” Gunny Brock grumbled. “This guy, Ellis, was supposed to stay buried, probably until he talked.”
“I agree. Have Pam whistle up those SAS boys and girls. Tell them they have a hostage rescue op. Have them put a full team together, full weapons, and let’s go get him. Kat and I will look for the professor’s wife and see if she can help us.”
“What are the ROEs?”
“The rules of engagement are: they do whatever is necessary to get Professor Ellis out of that place alive, up to and including killing anyone who gets in their way. Clear?”
Brock grinned. “That will make those bloodthirsty SAS types happy.” Brock keyed his comm unit and relayed the orders, turning his wrist unit so Scott could see and hear her reply.
“On my way, sir,” Pam touched her beret in a salute, and even in the small screen, Scott could see her grinning from ear to ear. With orders like that, Scott knew if anyone got in the way of the SAS and their objective, they’d be in the hospital or dead.
With Kat driving the shuttle, Scott took off for New Los Angeles with Janet and four armed security personnel, with orders not to spare the horsepower. He wasn’t sure why he was hurrying … just a feeling. With the spies hanging around, he was betting the news they had the rings and were looking for the inventor would travel fast. It was just a question of if he could get to Ellis before the news got out. Kat took him at his word, and disturbed a lot of fish as they crossed open water, going hypersonic all the way. She slowed when the coast of California came up on the scope, hearing traffic control screaming in her ear about violations of traffic law.
“Blow it out your ear, asshole,” she muttered, then changed it to “Oops” when three security cruisers came streaking toward her, red and blue lights flashing like starbursts.
“You will follow us and set down at the designated point. If you refuse to cooperate, we will tractor your ship down, is that clear?” someone shouted over the comm link.
“They sound a little pissed off,” Scott said. “Better do as they say, Kat, and stay out of sight. I’ll do the talking. Janet, lock and load, just in case,” he added, seeing the security team cocking their weapons and lowering their face shields.
Ten minutes later they landed on the pad at the La Jolla security station, and Janet cracked the hatch to admit an angry-looking man in the gray uniform of the State Security Police. He didn’t look happy.
“I was, why?” Scott answered as he lounged on the padded acceleration couch.
“Then you are in deep trouble, citizen, for violating twenty different traffic regulations.”
After the bright California sun, it took a moment for the man’s eyes to become accustomed to the low light in the cabin. When they did, he saw the other five, black-clad occupants. He didn’t need a calculator to tell him who these people were, or that they held something that might be weapons. He looked at his shock baton for a moment, and had the sense to power it down and slip it back into its holster. His partner bumped him in the back as he came aboard, pushing him aside.