Benson prayed they would find some kind of answer through Titan. The Chinese would never cooperate and allow access to their supercomputer’s processors. In 2014 Tianhe-2 was deemed the world’s most powerful processor and the U.S. government pumped money into Titan unlike any other project in history. Titan was no longer number two. Titan had bounded beyond expectations.
Benson said, “I will make the necessary requests immediately. There is a meeting of the National Security Council and the President in twenty minutes. When I report the timeframe we have before the returning beam strikes the Earth, what number should I use, Elliott?”
Benson couldn’t imagine ever having to ask that question. The entire situation was becoming surreal.
Elliott looked at his watch. “Forty seven hours.”
*****
Angel blew her nose again and stared at the image of the egg shaped mass. She had given up on trying to appear strong in the face of crisis. Her tears had slowed, but she believed she had simply cried herself out. She had started the day being kidnapped. Who would have thought that things would get worse? Other team members sat at their stations staring at the image of the growing mass on the large wall monitor. No one knew what to do.
Angel got up and walked toward the small break area to make herself a hot chocolate. Maybe Chris and Elliott would think of some miracle while she was away from her station. One of her teammates, Todd, was wiping the counter next to the sink.
Todd said, “Angel! Hey, wait just a second. I spilled juice and everything is sticky.”
Angel felt as if someone had slapped her. “Sticky! Oh, my God, Todd! Sticky! We have to make it sticky!”
Angel ran to her desk and buzzed Chris on her communication monitor. Moments later Chris’ worried face filled her screen.
“Hey, Angel. I have another run I’m sending you to try. I don’t have high hopes for it…but…”
Angel interrupted him. “Sticky! Chris, is there any way to influence the ions to attract to each other in a non-linear, random pattern?”
Chris immediately sat straighter. “In theory, if we could, the mass may cling and tangle within itself. If that happened, it may cool and just become space junk. How long would that take? What type of variant would we have to insert? What would be the delivery?”
Angel yelled, “Stop! We’ll start thinking on this here. You talk to Elliott!”
Chris immediately buzzed for Elliott to turn on his communication screen. Chris was shocked at Elliott’s appearance, he seemed to have aged ten years since this morning. “Elliott, Angel may have come up with something. Sticky. Deliver an ion modifier pulse to de-lineate the magnetic attraction.” Chris waited for Elliott’s response.
Elliott answered, “Work on a variance and I’ll try to get us access to Titan for trials. Chris, this might work.” Elliott suddenly frowned. “The residual particles would still be radioactive.”
Chris said, “What if we raised the shield above our atmosphere? We could preserve communications if we could raise it high enough. Could we thicken it enough to block particles?”
Elliott scratched on his chin, “I don’t think we could thicken it, but we may be able to tighten it. The shield would have to cover the entire globe. Any openings would act as a drain and pull the ions to Earth. I’ll work on the shield theory, and you and Angel work on sticky.”
Benson had been anxiously eavesdropping and couldn’t wait for Elliott to volunteer the crust of his conversation with Chris.
Finally, he blurted, “Do you have something?”
Elliott smiled, “It’s a long shot, but we might have something. I’m going to need everything you’ve got.”
Benson answered, “It’s yours.”
*****
Mason looked at his watch. He should have received a report by now from J.T. or from the second company he contracted for surveillance. Something had gone wrong. Mason dialed his new security firm’s president.
“I’m not going to be able to leave my location for another twelve hours or so. Something has gone wrong on your end. I should have been updated by now.”
The voice on the other end answered, “I agree.”
Mason estimated that within the two floors of his personal and office suites, there were already more than ten men on the premises for his security. “Do I have to leave here or can you guarantee my safety?”
The voice answered, “I can guarantee your safety. My men are the best. I’ll send more men there. These men are military trained. No one will enter your area that isn’t authorized.”
Mason nodded to himself. “Keep me posted.”
Mason ended the call and glanced at his watch. His contacts within the corrections system should be reporting soon on the releases of the men on his list. The U.S. government had a small taste of his power. If that wasn’t enough, he was prepared to deliver a more convincing blow. The next target would be a precise spot on an Atlantic Ocean fault line that would cause a tsunami that would wipe out Florida.
Mason chuckled, he didn’t much care for his associates in Miami anyway. Mason walked to the north wall of his office, pushed a button on the back edge of the credenza and watched as a section of the wall silently slid behind his bookcase exposing a cavity. Mason walked through and hit another button to close the door. Inside this room was his real office. He sat in his leather chair and twisted as he watched his stock performance for the day from one of four wall monitors.
The shield project had been extremely costly. More than once he had to argue its value to the International family council. After today, his leadership would no longer be questioned. They had the power now to make demands of anyone they chose. He had been careful that he was the only person that had the full set of command prompts for the shield. No one could control the shield without him. He didn’t get where he was by trusting others.
*****
Benson made his way to the Director’s office. Six bright blue monitor screens waited along the wall. In moments the faces of the National Security Council and the President would fill those screens. Benson was seldom invited to attend these conferences. The Director had cautioned him that the Defense Secretary would immediately blame Benson for allowing an offshore team to work on DIANA.
The Director assured Benson that he would remind them all that he and Benson had cautioned against an offshore team from the beginning. The Director knew that the most difficult part of this session would be controlling the emotions of those attending. The Secretary of Energy would be especially agitated. He was the one that had pushed for an offshore team in order to channel funding. The DIANA project belonged to Energy; the CIA was charged with protecting it. Everything on this meeting’s agenda represented huge failures. The stakes were high, the solutions unknown, and the consequences potentially catastrophic. It couldn’t get much worse than this. Robust finger pointing was inevitable. He hoped that he had structured his opening remarks in such a way as to diffuse that behavior before it started.
The monitors came on and the stern images of the National Security Council members filled the screens.
The President spoke. “Gentlemen, my staff has briefed me to the best of their ability as to the cause of this morning’s communication block. I am anxious to hear what we have found out since then.”
The Director addressed the group. “I would like to make a brief statement addressing the primary threat before discussion commences. Allow me to insert a historical note. In 1985, Patent # 5,038,664 for the creation of an electromagnetic shield, was approved and purchased by the U.S. government and subsequent defense contractors. In 1991, HAARP expanded the patent purpose to incorporate geoengineering research with the expanded ability to lift the Earth’s ionosphere levels with excited plasma. Subsequently, Eastlund’s 2006 patents, sealed by government secrecy order, authorized an expansion of that research for a project now known as DIANA.
In 2013, against the advice of this office, a mirror team of scientists was established in Malaysia. This group
was to mirror and compliment the DIANA research in the U.S., free from the financial scrutiny faced by our lab in Lead, South Dakota. We have discovered that the primary research scientist for that mirror group became involved with an investor organization that funded a duplication of DIANA somewhere in Geneva.
The core patent theory creates a temporary shield over limited regions of the Earth to protect the Earth from alien invasion. That code is retained within the DIANA code for possible future application. The stated purpose of the DIANA project is to utilize a generated beam, not to form a shield, but to penetrate the Earth’s natural electromagnetic fields for the release of CO2 carbons.
Dr. Elliott Nobel of our Lead lab discovered a fatal flaw in the science less than a week ago. An oversimplification of that flaw is that the beam will reach the outer limits of our atmosphere, penetrate the electromagnetic fields into space, where it will morph itself to return to its place of origin. This means that the beam would return to Earth and most surely destroy it.
Dr. Gustoff Kyser, the lead scientist for the Malaysian team and the rouge Geneva team, gave orders to initiate the DIANA project. He mistakenly believed that only the shield would be activated. We have visual proof that Dr. Nobel was correct that DIANA housed a fatal flaw. Please bring up Monitor 114 on your screens for a view of the mass of electromagnetic plasma that is realigning to return to Earth.
The rogue group that now has the DIANA code has demanded the immediate release of all persons incarcerated for organized criminal activity. Their demonstration of activating the shield was to assert their power. We believe they are unaware of the greater problem of the fatal flaw.
I will now entertain your questions.”
There was a long silence and the President asked, “Do we know how to stop this beam from coming back to Earth?”
The Director answered, “We do not know how to stop it at this time, Mr. President. Dr. Nobel and his team are working on a solution and have requested that we provide them all resources necessary.”
The Secretary of Energy blurted, “This is unbelievable! Surely there’s something we can do?”
The Director answered, “The CIA has initiated a search for the Geneva super collider and transmission station used by the rouge group. It is imperative that we find it. I could use a diplomatic opening to allow for our troops to search for the collider.”
The Secretary of Defense spoke. “My people tell me there are satellites being used that started all of this. I can have them destroyed.”
The Secretary of Energy interrupted, “Of course you just want to blow something up, Howard. That isn’t always the answer! Aren’t you listening? We may very well need those satellites. We need to find this underground lab.”
The President spoke, “Director, how much time do we have before the beam will return to Earth?”
The Director answered, “Our best estimate is 47 hours, Mr. President.”
All hell broke loose. Benson leaned back in his chair in a subconscious effort to put distance between himself and the screaming faces on the screens.
The Director whispered to Benson, “Well, that went well, don’t you think?”
Chapter Twenty
July 3, 1:00 p.m., FBI Chicago office
Travis and Agent Phillips madly scoured over the last five years of Travis’ records from his career as the primary accountant for the Chicago Outfit. Phillips was determined to find any information on Mason that may be in the records. Travis schooled Phillips on what symbols to look for within the columns of numbers.
Phillips was impressed. “You could have a future with the FBI in their forensic accounting division.”
Travis beamed with pride at Phillips suggestion. “I wouldn’t mind a short stint. This isn’t my system; it was taught to me. It’s been used by the mob for years. I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t caught on to it yet. The real geniuses work at the Pentagon. Do you know that their own auditors couldn’t find 2.3 trillion dollars of the Pentagon’s budget last year? Now those guys are good!”
Phillips glanced at his watch. He was feeling pressured to find something solid on Mason. “Is there any chance you would have a physical address for Mason?”
Travis thought for a moment. “In 2012, Mason wanted Dominick’s signature on a form to establish some kind of investment account. Look under retirement entries around June of 2012. I think an address was coded after the account number. If you can’t find it there, I think Dominick had me send Mason a crystal ball around that same time. There should be a jeweler receipt for about $500.00 in Dominick’s expense ledger. I’ve got a copy of the receipt and the address is on the back in an attached memo.”
“A crystal ball?”
Travis chuckled, “Yeah, Dominick always teased Mason that he must use one. Dominick wanted him to have a spare.” Travis laughed out loud. “He should’ve kept it. Maybe he’d still have his head!”
Phillips frowned and turned to face Travis. “I never told you he was missing his head.”
Travis sputtered, “Lenny told me! Back at the precinct when you left the room with that woman detective. You can’t possibly think I could cut off a man’s head?”
Phillips said, “Dominick’s death has certainly saved you some grief.”
Travis huffed his disapproval of Phillips’ suggestion and returned his attention to the computer monitor displaying his old records. The was definitely a new tension in the room.
Phillips’ thoughts returned to Dominick’s murder. Travis had both motive and opportunity. He had admitted that after Lenny dropped him off at the hotel he had called a cab and then rented a car. That created a missing hour right when Dominick was being murdered. Phillips made a mental note to have the rental car checked by their CSI team.
Phillips’ mind sifted through the other possibilities for who could have killed Dominick. Frankie Mullen had Lenny preparing his retirement home in New Buffalo. Maybe Dominick wasn’t ready for Frankie to retire. Maybe Frankie figured eliminating Dominick secured his career secrets and guaranteed a peaceful retreat from the mob life. And then there was that hole. There had to be some reason that Frankie had asked Lenny to dig a hole that large.
Phillips considered that J.T. Barrimore may have killed Dominick as soon as his plane arrived in Chicago. The timing was right. It seemed to be a clean, professional way to send a message. Nick had given Dominick as a reference to Mason. Maybe Mason discovered the betrayal and Dominick paid the price for his lie.
A worse thought crossed Phillips’ mind: Sophia. While beheading someone was not her style, that may be precisely why she would do it. Dominick had caused her family over two decades of pain. Sophia had just given her official notice to leave the FBI. The timing of Dominick’s death was very curious.
Someone had killed Dominick last night. Someone Phillips had to find.
Travis suddenly spoke and startled Phillips’ thoughts.
“Here it is! Mason Global Investments, 54 W. 57th Street, New York, New York.”
Phillips removed his phone from his breast pocket and dialed his supervisor. He relayed the address for Mason’s address and listened as his supervisor brought him up to date. He learned that J.T. Barrimore was now in FBI custody and had met with Sophia. J.T. had given Sophia Mason’s address. She was on her way to New York to Mason’s office. Phillips provided his supervisor the banking information that Travis had found on Mason Global Investments. His supervisor indicated that the FBI now had enough information to seize Global Investments’ holdings. He praised Phillips for a job well done.
Phillips hadn’t expected to hear of Sophia’s involvement. She was supposed to be done. This was a dangerous mission and Sophia’s heart was in Chicago with her family. This is always when things go horribly wrong. He caught himself silently praying for her safety.
*****
Benson sat in his office reviewing the data on the monitors and waiting for some news from the National Security Agency. The phones that were confiscated in Chicago from J.T Barrimor
e, Joe Small, and the man caught spying in the alley were what NSA was using to break the encryption code of Mason’s radio band. Benson was desperate for an exact location for Mason. He was their only chance of locating the Geneva lab in time.
Dalton and Stryker’s jet would be landing in New York momentarily and Benson didn’t know where to tell them to go. He glanced at his watch for the third time in fifteen minutes.
The Director’s face suddenly filled Benson’s communication screen.
The Director asked, “Can you talk?”
Benson answered, “Yes.”
“I was just given the location of Mason’s office in New York. The FBI obtained this three hours ago through one of their operatives. The Director of the FBI decided to ‘share’ this with us as a courtesy.”
Benson was livid. “Three hours ago? That’s outrageous! We have two men landing within minutes in New York, sir. I need to get that address to them.” Benson wanted to kick something, anything.
The Director frowned, “It gets worse. The FBI feels Mason is their case, because he represents organized crime. They have already deployed an agent to his address. Their intentions are to capture all information they find there. Their operative was told that once Mason was in custody, an assault team would be deployed to secure the premises.”
Benson’s mind swarmed with the fury of a tornado. “Sir, the location of the Geneva lab and the codes they have used for initiation are most likely kept close to Mason. We can’t risk an FBI attack destroying precisely what we need! We also don’t have time to have a custody war with the FBI for the seized data.”
The Director said, “Which is why the President has ordered the FBI to stand down on this. Unfortunately, it is too late to contact the agent already in the building. Our two men will enter, secure the situation, and notify our task people when it’s safe. I have an astrophysicist from NASA that is in New York now that has agreed to assist in identifying any pertinent files.” The Director shook his head and continued, “How important does something have to be before we can count on intra-agency cooperation?”
Zero Margin: Nick Stryker, Book Three The Shallow End Gals (Nick Stryker Series 3) Page 17