“Have you been out to the facility?”
“No,” Rebecca said. “I think I have the same introductory appointment you do tomorrow. How do you want to act toward each other? Friendly? Antagonistic?”
“You should be reserved. I’ll play the enthusiastic author and ask a lot of dumb questions. You can be exasperated at me, if you like. Treat me like a dumb American.”
“That won’t be a stretch.”
Sudden tweaked one of her still-erect nipples.
“I’ll keep insulting you if you keep doing that. You know how much I like it. But back to business. What else should I know?”
“I think I found out why there may be an alien at CERN.”
He then spent the next 10 minutes explaining what Eisler had told him about the collider and its possible use in creating an Alcubierre drive.”
“Warp speed? You must be joking?”
“It makes sense. CERN doesn’t make weapons. Why else would he, or it, be there?”
“ET, phone home?”
“Maybe ET, get home. I recorded what Eisler said. You can listen to the whole thing later.”
“Be still my heart,” Rebecca said. “Have you figured out how we might identify our target?”
He told her everything he’d learned about Baker in Georgia. She laughed aloud when he described his run-in and subsequent humiliation of Maxwell Youngblood.
“You are like a bull in a china shop when you get angry, Cole. I wish I had been there. I presume you slept with the young lady.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t like that.”
In the belief that what they didn’t know about each other was dangerous, Rebecca and Sudden kept little from each other, either as colleagues or as friends.
“I’m sure. Poor Cole. You are probably sexually exhausted, and here I am, depleting your limited energies.”
“I’ll live. But speaking of sexual energies, that’s about the only thing we have to go on. If our friend at CERN is anything like I found out Baker to be, he will be screwing his brains out, both of them. That kind of thing in a closed community like CERN may be hard to hide.”
Her hand had moved to his groin.
“Perhaps I should seduce all the scientists,” she said.
“Very patriotic,” Sudden said. “But I think you can eliminate many of them. The old farts and the married ones with children, for example. And any that the various agencies have really vetted.”
“Yes, the number would be more manageable.”
Sudden never knew when Rebecca was kidding.
“Put the seduction plan on the back burner for a while,” he said. “You might like the guy. I don’t want you defecting to Alpha Centauri or something.”
This time, she did the pinching.
“Ouch,” Sudden said. “Be careful. It’s still sensitive.”
“Poor baby. Here, let me kiss it.”
Which she did. A few minutes later they were entwined, making love. This time with plenty of inventive foreplay.
***
After dinner at Tsé Yang, Sudden walked Rebecca out to the hotel’s cab stand. He gave her a collegial kiss on the cheek and she was off. Then he went back into the Kempinski for what he hoped was a good night’s sleep. He sure as hell needed it.
Across the street in his rented Volvo, Brin Yunner smiled. He’d followed Soul from the Beau Rivage to the Kempenski, wondering who she was going to meet. He was glad it was that bastard Sudden. He had known both of them would eventually wind up in Geneva on their way to CERN but had only time to follow one of them from the States. Knowing where they were both staying might make his job easier.
The brief kiss on the cheek didn’t fool Yunner. Soul had been in the hotel for more than four hours. She had delivered something in a case, which she didn’t have with her when she left. Probably a gun. Then they’d undoubtedly fucked like bunnies. Yunner didn’t blame Sudden. Soul was one hot-looking babe. He hoped she wouldn’t get in his way when he did what he had to do. The boys at Guantanamo wanted to get another shot at one of the aliens. They had some new techniques they wanted to try out. Yunner’s job was to locate the target and then a C.I.A. extraction team would whisk him away. For that purpose he’d brought along several vials of carefully measured doses of succinylcholine chloride and the appropriate syringes to administer the drug.
Succinylcholine, a synthetic version of curare, had proved to be one of the few drugs that had any effect on the alien in Guantanamo, and God knew, they tried a lot of them. But where most drugs, mostly hallucinogens and various types of truth serums, failed to achieve any results, succinylcholine at least worked on Baker’s musculature much like it would have worked on a human’s. Within moments, the muscles controlling everything from Baker’s eyelids to his diaphragm relaxed, rendering him immobile. Surgeons frequently use succinylcholine prior to an operation because this temporary paralysis allows them to not only easily intubate a patient but also to require less of more powerful anesthetics. In fact, Yunner knew, the reason the Guantanamo physicians tried succinylcholine in the first place was because they planned to cut open Baker when he was still alive, but hopefully not thrashing around in the operating theater. Of course, Baker’s untimely death during his waterboarding changed everything.
If Yunner got close enough to the target in CERN, he planned to keep him immobilized with succinylcholine, use a portable oxygen respirator to keep him ventilated, and call in the cavalry, or rather, the air cavalry. A C.I.A. helicopter would start the alien’s long journey to Guantanamo. Yunner didn’t know what Sudden and Soul intended to do, and he didn’t care. Nigel Buss’s people were treated with kid gloves by most of the people in the agency, but Yunner’s interrogation group thought they were nothing but pampered cowboys. As for Cole Sudden, Yunner almost wished he would get in the way. He’d never gotten a look at the man who assaulted him in the men’s room at Langley, but it had to have been Sudden.
CHAPTER 20 - THE TOUR
Sudden checked out of his hotel the next morning. Arrangements had been made for him and Soul to stay on site at CERN.
From his briefing packet, Sudden knew that the CERN complex at Route de Meyrin 385 in Meyrin, Switzerland was huge, really a small town made up of scores of laboratories, administrations buildings, exhibits, restaurants and support facilities. Except for widely spaced surface buildings that hold ancillary compressors, ventilation equipment, control electronics and refrigeration units, the centerpiece of the complex, the Large Hadron Collider, was virtually invisible, despite its circumference of 17 miles. That is because most of the 12-foot-wide concrete-lined tunnel is buried at a depth ranging from 164 to 574 feet underground, crossing the Swiss/French border at four points.
The CERN complex is a popular destination for tourists and Sudden could have taken either a train or bus to its Welcoming Center but he opted to have the Kempenski concierge arrange a rental car, under the name Cole Swift. The Peugeot had a GPS system but Sudden didn’t use it. He wanted to see if he could find the place on his own. Knowing local roads on an assignment often came in handy. The directions he got at the hotel were straightforward enough.
“Follow the signs for Aeroport, Lyon or Meyrin,” the concierge told him. “When you reach Meyrin head for St. Genis. It is just across the border in France. But before you get to St. Genis, CERN is on the left hand side, just before the border crossing. You cannot miss it, Mr. Swift. Look for the huge globe that houses a science center. It is the size of the Dome of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. Should take you no more than a half hour.”
Sudden’s appointment, at 10 AM, was in CERN’s main administration building. By prearrangement with Rebecca Soul, he arrived 15 minutes late. She was already well into the presentation by Dr. Louis LaPortre, CERN’s Deputy Director.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he rushed into LaPotre’s office. “Traffic.”
He put out his hand to LaPortre.
“Cole Swift. Thanks for taking the time to see me, Dr. LaPortre.”
“Rebecca Soul,” she said, and then turned to LaPortre. “I was under the impression that my interviews would be one-on-one.”
“Mr. Swift is a noted American author. I thought we could save time if he sat in.”
“I’m afraid that I have not heard of him. And it doesn’t appear that we’ve saved any time.” She looked at Sudden. “Perhaps you should have allowed for traffic and left earlier, Mr. Swift,” she said coldly, also by prearrangement. “I’m sure Dr. LaPortre doesn’t appreciate having to go over everything he just told me.”
LaPortre, a portly man with a small gray mustache and a receding hairline, tried to diffuse the situation.
“It’s no problem, Miss Soul. I haven’t told you anything that Mr. Swift couldn’t glean from one of our brochures.”
“I didn’t come here to read brochures,” she said.
Rebecca was playing the role of the bitch to the hilt.
“No, no,” LaPortre stammered . “Of course not. I only meant …”
“Perhaps you could explain, in layman’s terms, what the Hadron Collider is, and does.” Rebecca curled her upper lip dismissively. Sudden noted with amusement that it still had a small bruise on it from the night before. “I’m sure Mr. Swift will appreciate it, if he can keep up.”
LaPortre seemed relieved to go on with his talk.
“The LHC, that’s what we call the Large Hadron Collider, is the world’s largest and most powerful particle accelerator. It consists of a 27-kilometer ring of superconducting magnets to boost the energy of the particles, which travel in both directions in the tunnel.”
“Why in both directions?” Sudden asked, although he knew the answer.
“So that the particle beams can be smashed together,” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes. “It’s a collider, after all.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, that is correct,” LaPortre said quickly. “Inside the LHC, two high-energy particle beams travel near the speed of light. They travel in opposite directions in separate beam tubes kept at ultrahigh vacuum. They are controlled in the ring by a strong magnetic field maintained by thousands of superconducting electromagnets chilled by liquid helium to minus 271.3 degree Centigrade, colder than outer space. Extreme cold, as you know, vastly increases conductivity.”
“Of course,” Sudden said, dryly.
“There are 1232 dipole magnets that bend the beams and 392 quadrupole magnets that focus them. There are four particle detectors, all controlled from the CERN Control Center, which you will see later, where the beams are made to collide by using a special magnet that squeezes the particles closer together to increase the chances of collisions.The particles are so tiny that it’s like firing two needles at each other 10 kilometers apart with such accuracy that they collide in the middle.”
“The LHC is not the only accelerator here, Doctor,” Rebecca said, having obviously done more homework than Sudden.
“No. The LHC is only one of our five operations,” LaPortre said. “We also have an Antiproton Decelerator that supplies low-energy antiprotons for studies of antimatter. Then there is the Proton Synchrotron, which accelerates protons delivered by a Proton Synchrotron Booster or heavy ions.”
Sudden was writing furiously in a small reporter’s notepad, frequently asking LaPortre to spell something.
“It will be in the brochures,” Rebecca said, sarcastically, who, he now noticed, had placed a small digital tape machine on LaPortre’s desk.
“The Super Proton Synchrotron is the second-largest machine in the CERN complex,” LaPortre said, “measuring nearly 7 kilometres in circumference. The SPS takes particles from the Proton Synchrotron and accelerates them to provide beams for the LHC. Finally, we have something called the CERN Neutrinos to Gran Sasso Project. It uses some of our accelerators to send neutrinos to the Gran Sasso National Laboratory 732 kilometres away in Italy.”
“How the hell does it do that?” Sudden said.
He was really interested, and he could tell Rebecca was, too.
“We just aim the beam at Gran Sasso.” LaPortre was obviously delighted that he’d surprised his guests. “Neutrinos are incredibly light, neutral particles that barely interact with matter. They hardly have any mass. They can pass easily through mountains, and ultra-sensitive instruments at Gran Sasso can detect them.”
“What are you trying to learn?” Sudden asked.
LaPortre smiled.
“Anything and everything. We’ve discovered the Higgs boson, perhaps the basic building block of the universe. We want to know why there is far more matter than antimatter in the universe. The big bang should have created equal of each. CERN is where it’s at, as you Americans like to say. Did you know that a British scientist, Tim Berners-Lee invented the Internet right here at CERN in 1989?”
“I thought Al Gore did that,” Sudden said, joking.
“Americans think they invented everything,” Rebecca said.
She’s probably not acting, now, Sudden realized.
“And Europeans think they invented everything from the telephone to the airplane,” Sudden replied.
LaPortre sensed another confrontation brewing.
“Well,” he said, “why don’t we start our tour.”
Thank God, Sudden thought. Any more technological jargon and my mind will turn into a quark.
LaPortre got up to open the door. He didn’t see Rebecca stick her tongue out at Sudden.
They all walked down the hall to another office. A sign on the door said, “K. Witte, Director of Stakeholder Relations” in both French and English.
LaPortre knocked and opened the door.
“Katarina, our guests are here.”
He ushered Soul and Sudden in to the office. A woman sitting behind a desk rose to greet them with a friendly smile. She was dressed conservatively in a smart blue suit and white shirt, neither of which hid the fact that she was extraordinarily beautiful. Handshakes and introductions were offered all around.
“I will leave you in Mrs. Witte’s capable hands,” LaPortre said. “And, of course, I remain at your disposal.”
LaPortre left, obviously happy to be rid, however temporarily, of both of them.
“Please sit,” Witte said. “I have prepared information packets for you.”
Two fat manila envelopes lay on the desk in front of her. Each was labeled, in large black letters, with his and Rebecca’s names. The only other object on the desk was a large silver picture frame with a photo of young boy sitting outdoors at a table in ski clothes. In the background Sudden could see what was obviously the trails of a ski resort. Witte saw him looking at the photo and picked it up.
“My son, Manfred. On a holiday we took last year to Gstaad. He can ski rings around me.”
She spoke almost perfect English, with just the hint of an accent.
“Handsome boy,” Sudden said.
“Thank you. He’s my darling.”
“I can’t speak for Mr. Swift,” Rebecca said, rather impatiently, “but I was hoping to get deeper into the CERN operation than info packets. Why couldn’t Dr. LaPortre take us around? And just what is ‘Stakeholder Relations’?”
Katarina Witte smiled.
“My office supports CERN’s strategic goals by providing information about our activities to key target audiences that include the scientific community, industry, the media and the general public. Our goal is to foster and develop support for CERN and its mission.”
“So, public relations?”
“Yes, of course.” Witte’s smile had diminished fractionally. “But I report directly to the Director-General. Don’t worry, Miss Soul.” She paused. “It is Miss Soul, no?” Rebecca nodded. “You will have access to everything you need. We’ve already informed the staff that you will be meeting that they should be as forthcoming as possible. It might even be an advantage to not have Dr. LaPortre around. The scientists may speak more freely in his absence. Onc
e you get them going, it will be hard to shut them up. They are proud of their work and don’t get to brag about it that much. Not too many people in the outside world are interested in quarks and muons. They aren’t particularly sexy.”
Sudden wanted to ask what a muon was, but figured that could wait. He’d probably be up to his arms in unintelligible scientific jargon soon enough. Instead he said, “I’m sure your scientists will give us everything we need on the technical side, and that certainly will be helpful, but I am a fiction writer and I pride myself in character development. I’d like to get to know some of your people on a more personal level. Their background. What makes them tick. That sort of thing.”
Katarina Witte’s luminous smile was back at full wattage.
“I don’t think that will be a problem, Mr. Swift. Ask them anything you want. We have a tight-knit staff here at CERN. Most of our scientists and support staff love the place and wouldn’t want to work anywhere else. In addition to a high pay scale, the ancillary benefits are very substantial. For example, after six months here CERN employees are entitled to participate in a generous pension fund fully funded by the European Union, and within any 36-month period they are entitled to 12 months’ sick leave on full pay, followed by 18 months’ sick leave on two-thirds pay. They can live anywhere nearby in France or Switzerland, and CERN has its own apartment complexes.”
Europeans, Sudden mused, mentally comparing the C.I.A.’s own benefits package as Witte recited CERN’s. No wonder we have to bail them out so often.
“Now, I can’t promise everyone will be totally candid about their private lives,” Witte continued. “That’s their prerogative, of course. But we have an awful lot of information in our staff biographies, which are public record. And I keep my ear to the ground. Just come to me if you need anything.”
Sudden looked over at Rebecca, who nodded imperceptibly.
TWO SUDDEN!: A Pair of Cole Sudden C.I.A. Thrillers Page 28