Daniel seemed excited. She’d seen that look before—he had something else in mind. “Marie, you’ve got the best command of both languages, and you’re a natural at advanced user interface. Can you take the lead? Find out what works.”
“Okay. What are you going to do?”
He rubbed his chin. “I have one other idea, but first I need to make a phone call.” He pointed to the yin in Marie’s hand. “Then I might need to go back to Fermilab… and take this hunk of metal with me.”
33 Yang
Marie lay prone in the commander’s position of the Soyuz capsule, occupying the same space Sergei had just a few hours earlier. She felt his presence. It was a stupid idea, very unscientific with no basis in reality. But she felt him just the same.
At eye level to her left, a small window provided a view across the hangar. Pixie stood outside. Above her head, the unused emergency parachute still consumed most of the overhead space. The capsule felt just as claustrophobic as she had remembered from her cross-training at Roscosmos.
The control panel was more than an arm’s length away and quite difficult to reach with the full force of gravity pinning her to the seat. It would have been easier in orbit. Soyuz was a craft designed for weightlessness, not for sitting on the ground.
Pixie’s head appeared in the open hatch above her. “How ya doing?”
She acknowledged him with a half-smile. “Well, I got the two halves snapped together. Even that wasn’t easy.” Just as Colonel McGinn had described, she found the yang firmly stuck to the control panel with no obvious means for its attachment. It stood on its point, just touching the top of the control panel’s metal frame. Unlike its partner, this version could not be pushed, tilted or perceptibly moved. She thought of Daniel’s suggestion that the yin could be a four-dimensional object. Maybe the yang was too, with a mechanism of attachment that was not even located within her world.
The front of the yang was different from its partner. A vertical strip ran down its center with three black characters marked on it. They looked similar to the characters in the text message. Definitely not Chinese characters, but it was hard to know if they belonged to some other language. Now with the yin paired to its partner, the two formed a smooth oval shape like two commas, one inverted.
It had taken longer than she had thought to bring them together, and the effort of holding the heavy weight above her head for several minutes had tired her arms. She rested another moment. “Okay, here goes…”
She pressed the record button on her phone as a quick means of documentation. She wasn’t sure how close she might need to be for the voice command, or for that matter, what to say. “Kak pashyevayesh.” The basics were always a good place to start.
Nothing happened. She lifted as high off the seat and she could and spoke louder, and still nothing happened.
“Well, I was at least expecting to see the projection again, but the thing seems to work differently when it’s attached.”
“How are you?” she tried. The English version wasn’t any better. Even if the device was voice-controlled, she had no idea which words to try. More Russian? Chinese, perhaps? If these devices had any relation to the Chinese, why did a Russian phrase control the yin’s ability to project images? She wondered if Pixie’s idea might be right. This device didn’t look like anything made by humans.
“Moskva, Sayuz, sdelanny.” Sergei would have said this many times trying to raise someone at Roscosmos. She waited, but the metal oval remained silent and motionless.
“Peredachu na 922.763. Otvechat… Houston, please respond…”
Nothing.
She tried several other radio phrases, both in English and Russian. Nothing seemed to have the slightest effect. “Damn,” she mouthed. She had no expectations of what might happen, but she hoped for something. She felt stupid speaking to an inanimate device that provided no response.
She looked up through the hatch. Pixie was still in view, his eyes looking nowhere. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure what else to say.”
“Maybe pull them apart again?” he suggested.
She nodded and reached up to the control panel. She pulled on the yin side and it snapped away from its other half like a refrigerator magnet. “Well, it’s easier to take them apart.”
She stood the yin on its point on the front edge of the center seat, hesitant to let go. “It sure feels like it’s going to fall over.” She released her grip, and the metal plate performed its vertical balancing act even though the seat itself was reclined at an angle. “Pretty amazing. It seems to balance anywhere.”
“See if you can get the projection back,” Pixie encouraged.
Marie nodded. “Kak pashyevayesh.” The yin device clicked and the circular image reappeared like a genie called from a lamp. “At least we got that part down.”
“Your Russian is perfect,” Pixie called down. “I know a little myself.”
Marie shrugged. “Yeshche odin dlinny den.”
“Sorry, you lost me there.”
She lifted up the yin device and turned it in her hand. “I said… it looks like it’s going to be another long day.”
The space was cramped, and she needed to get out and stretch. She stood up on the center seat and handed the yin up to Pixie. “Coming up.”
She placed a foot on the top of the control panel, next to the yang. A flicker of light caught her eye. She wasn’t sure what she’d seen and lowered herself back down. She squatted, directly in front of the yang, still marked with three black characters in a center strip. That’s strange. It looks different. She pulled out her phone and took a picture.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another military flight, another drive from the airport, and Daniel stood at the entrance to Wilson Hall, his overnight bag now ten pounds heavier.
It had rained since he and Marie had left Illinois only eight hours earlier. A mist hung above the grassy fields of Fermilab. Ground fog by tonight, the science in his head chimed. He entered the building and registered at the front desk. A few minutes later, Josh arrived, the same intern who had greeted Daniel and Marie less than thirty hours earlier. It seemed like a week ago.
“Where’s Ms. Kendrick?” Josh asked as they rode the elevator.
“South Dakota, actually. Related business.”
“Can you confirm the rumors?”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “What rumors?”
“They’re saying that the whole Soyuz flight was faked. That the astronauts died on board ISS, but NASA doesn’t want to admit it.”
Daniel shook his head. “Does that sound reasonable to you?”
Josh shrugged. “Well, no.”
“Then it’s probably just another conspiracy theory, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Josh laughed. “I didn’t really believe it.” The elevator stopped at the fifteenth floor. “I can take you to Dr. Spiegel. Dr. Park isn’t here.”
Daniel stopped in his tracks. “Park isn’t here? Where’d he go?”
“Washington. Some big meeting. Sorry, there wasn’t any warning, he just left.”
Damn. Daniel rubbed his forehead. Taking control of the nation’s preeminent particle accelerator would have been easier through Park. But there were other paths. “Just let Dr. Spiegel know I’m at the facility.” He turned back to the elevator, leaving Josh with his mouth open and nothing to say.
As he stepped into the elevator, Daniel pulled out his phone and dialed. Voicemail picked up. “Nala here—well, my voice anyway. Leave me a message…”
34 Lockdown
Nala stood in front of the main entrance of the Stetler office building. She felt her phone vibrate. Won’t these people leave me alone? Let it pick up.
She’d been on the phone for the past hour with two different authorities. The call from the congressional investigator was bad enough. Prosecution seemed a likely outcome. But the second call from the FBI had hit her in the gut. “Can you come in to the Stetler office?” a tough-sounding man
had asked. “Or we can pick you up.”
Whether he was offering a ride or threating arrest wasn’t clear. Logic told her there was no other choice, so she got in the car. She told herself she had done nothing wrong, but that did little to dissipate her nervous feeling. Authority was authority, whether the FBI or the Illinois police, and possessing dark skin in America was always a risky proposition even if you were entirely innocent. Nala had experienced the consequences more than once.
She felt a chill as she started up the stairs. Only twelve hours before, she had climbed these stairs in the dark, with Yost’s goon, McLellan, right behind her. It’s broad daylight. They can’t hurt you now, she thought.
The FBI vehicles in the parking lot didn’t help. Yes, they represented protection from Yost and McLellan. But she desperately worried that handcuffs were in her near future. Her heart rate picked up as she walked slowly down the hall to the Stetler office. Her fingers stopped just short of the door handle, hesitant. Finally, she opened the door.
The previously immaculate reception area was now filled with cardboard boxes, each sealed with tape displaying the word Evidence in bright red letters. A young man stood near the reception desk. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m Dr. Nala Pasquier. I was asked to come in.”
“Agent Stevens, FBI.” The young man shook Nala’s hand. “We’ve been expecting you. I’ll get Agent Townsend.” He left the lobby and returned a minute later followed by a middle-aged man with wavy gray hair. The man wore a black suit and a thin black tie that screamed FBI.
“Dr. Pasquier, thank you for coming in.” It was the same tough-sounding voice from the phone call. “I’m Agent Townsend, FBI. I’m managing this investigation. Am I pronouncing your name right, Pasquier?”
“You are, but you can call me Nala.” Staying as friendly as possible was a learned trait.
“Thank you, but for now I’ll just keep it formal if you don’t mind. It’s an investigation.” He paused, his forced smile frozen on his face. “I must say, Dr. Pasquier, you’ve got some friends in high places.”
The comment was nearly the opposite of what she was expecting; it didn’t even make sense. “None that I know of.”
“You’d be surprised.” Agent Townsend looked at his phone. “Just this morning I was on a call directly to the White House and your name came up several times.”
“What…?”
“Dr. Daniel Rice, White House OSTP. Someone you know?”
She hesitated, unsure how to answer. “He was in our office yesterday.”
“And that was the first time you met?”
She nodded. Okay, this is weird.
“Hmmm.” Townsend’s voice was gruff, with no inflection to distinguish between question and accusation. “You were fired last night. After making an offer to Dr. Rice?”
The blood pressure in her head shot up. “I was fired for telling Daniel Rice what I know about this—”
“Oh, yes, I heard the reason,” the agent said, nodding. “From Dr. Rice himself. But the story changes depending on who you talk to.”
“Those ass… what did they say about me?”
The agent’s stoicism remained unchanged. “Well, if you’re referring to Mr. Stetler or Mr. Yost, they don’t seem to think you’re very trustworthy. They suggested that you had taken a thumb drive with classified software on it. I checked, and there is a drive registered in their security log that’s missing. Any idea where it might be?”
“No, I don’t. It’s not with me.” She knew the game. It was all too easy to create a security log and a story to go with it, but impossible to prove she didn’t have something that had probably never existed.
Nala stepped closer. “Agent Townsend? Am I pronouncing that right? Let me give you another tip. Stetler and Yost? These are people who just make things up. They wouldn’t blink an eye at falsifying whatever evidence you have in these boxes.” She spread both arms wide. “You’re looking for a nonexistent thumb drive? Search me.”
Townsend paused. He looked like he might indeed kick her legs apart and pat her down. But his demeanor calmed, and so did his voice. “No need for that.” He consulted his phone. “We do have a warrant to search your house and car, Dr. Pasquier. Acquired before Dr. Rice stepped into the picture. A search may not be necessary, we’ll see.”
His tone softened further. “Dr. Pasquier, you may be surprised to hear that I’m not an adversary. I’m an investigator, and I follow wherever the leads take me. You see all the boxes around you? So far, I’d say the evidence is in your favor.”
Nala took a deep breath, calming her nervousness. There were no handcuffs yet, and maybe there wouldn’t be.
The agent looked down the adjacent hallway, yelled for someone and returned his attention to Nala. “I’d like to have Agent Coffey ask you a few questions.”
“Fine.”
“And perhaps do a quick pass through your purse, if you don’t mind?”
She held out her purse and Townsend held up his hand. “In a minute, no rush.”
A thick middle-aged woman with short blond hair walked into the lobby. “You need me, chief?”
“Agent Coffey, this is our missing VIP, Dr. Pasquier.”
“Ah, Dr. Pasquier, we’ve been expecting you,” she said.
“I guess everyone has.” The two shook hands.
Townsend spoke to Coffey. “Dr. Pasquier is kindly allowing us to look through her personal belongings for the misplaced equipment. And we’ll need a full interview. Let me know when you’re done.”
“Right-o, chief.” Coffey motioned to the hallway. “Follow me, Dr. Pasquier.” As they walked away down the hallway, the conversation turned strangely casual. “You know, it’s funny, we both have unusual last names. Pasquier. Coffey. Both kind of hard to spell, too. Coffey is with a Y, not like the drink.”
They turned a corner toward the conference room. “You know, you look familiar. Have you been on TV? Or in a movie? You’re not a movie star, are you?” Nala just smiled and followed the agent, who continued the one-way chat.
“I’m originally from Kentucky, but I kind of like Chicago. Except the winters. Have you lived here long?”
“Just a few years.” Nala kept her answers simple.
Agent Coffey stopped at the conference table and looked at Nala like she was studying a photograph. “My brother once met that actress, what’s her name? I can’t remember, but you look like her.”
Nala had heard the comparison before. Flattering perhaps, but it made no sense. It seemed there were always people in the world that needed to compare whomever they met to someone famous. This very odd agent seemed to exist in another world. “Don’t you need to ask me some questions?”
Coffey seemed surprised. “Of course, that’s why we’re here.”
“And you need to search my purse?”
“Yeah, I need to do that too. You don’t mind, do you?”
Nala waved her hand in the air, put the purse on the table and pushed it over. Coffey dug around inside for a few minutes and pushed it back. She then pulled out a thin metallic wafer and placed it on the table. She touched a pad and it made a soft beep.
“Okay, so we’re recording now. Go ahead, you can start. Let’s see, just tell me about the events leading up to your being fired from Stetler. Oh, and anything you know about Mr. Stetler or Mr. Yost and their dealings with China.”
Nala decided she’d better identify the key bits of information any prosecutor would need. It didn’t look like Coffey was going to figure it out for herself. She started with her knowledge of Wah Xiang and her discovery that her computer had been hacked. She explained why a Chinese company might be brought into the project and talked about the new particle accelerator in China, The Higgs Factory. She detailed the events from the previous night, her meeting with Daniel in the bar and her confrontation with Yost and McLellan. Agent Coffey nodded and smiled and let the recorder capture the words.
“Anything else?” Agent Coffey asked afte
r Nala had paused.
“Not that I can think of,” Nala said.
“Great,” said the agent. She switched off the recording device and put it in her coat pocket. “Just sit tight for a minute while I talk to my boss. I’ll be right back and we’ll get you on your way just as quick as we can.”
It was more like ten minutes, but she finally returned. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Pasquier. That took a little longer than I expected.”
Townsend was right behind her. Coffey took a chair but Townsend remained standing, scratching the side of his head. “Dr. Pasquier, I’ve just spoken again with Dr. Rice. It looks like you’re going to receive immunity from prosecution, and I’ve agreed to proceed with this investigation on that basis.”
Nala froze. Damn, the guy came through, just like he said he would. Could this be real?
Given the events of the past twenty-four hours and many months of working for this badly dysfunctional company, she was having difficulty in distinguishing friend from foe. But with this new information, Daniel Rice was now firmly in the friend column, maybe even in a new column reserved for saviors and superheroes.
Agent Townsend eyed her carefully. “However, in return for this immunity, we would like your continued cooperation on some specific items.”
That doesn’t sound bad. A lot better than handcuffs.
His voice was still just as gruff. “There are a number of documents we’d like you to review and provide notes where you may have personal information on conversations, meetings, and directives issued by leadership at Fermilab or Stetler. We will need you to sign a sworn affidavit after you have reviewed these documents. Will that be acceptable, Dr. Pasquier?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.” She breathed deeply and felt a warmth spreading across her. This was even better than “you’re free to go,” better than walking out the door, better than being feet up on a barstool and a margarita in hand. This was an offer to help put away the scumbags who’d created this mess. She’d gladly do that even if they did put handcuffs on her.
The Quantum Series Box Set Page 19