The Quantum Series Box Set

by Douglas Phillips

  Jamie patted the man’s shoulder with a gloved hand. “We’ve got help coming, sir. But before they get here, I need to take this belt off.”

  The man mumbled something, but the words were slurred. Up close, the belt didn’t look threatening—more like a utility belt that a carpenter might wear. Electronics components with connecting wires were stapled into the leather like a homemade array of superhero gadgets. The mega-battery, if that was what it was, fit into a sleeve on one side that might have otherwise held a hammer. Still no sign of any explosive material. False alarm, but she’d made the right call and would do it again.

  She flipped two snaps and the belt loosened. With a few tugs, it released from the man’s hips. A workman’s tool belt—enhanced—though what the wires and electronics components might do was anyone’s guess. She laid it flat on the tile floor. There would be time later to figure out what this guy was up to.

  A quick scan didn’t find any external wounds, but the internal injuries were probably serious, most likely head trauma. Blood still leaked from one ear—and now from his nose too.

  The man croaked, not much louder than a whisper. “Help.”

  She bent down. “Yes, sir, medical help is on the way. Hang in there. Just a few more minutes.” A faraway siren could be heard through the still-open front door.

  “No… this,” the man said. He wiggled one hand bound by the cuffs, loosening his clenched fist. A glint of silver shone between his chubby fingers. “I come… from… the future.”

  “Huh?” Either she’d hadn’t heard him right or this guy was a serious wack job. Doherty moved closer, his weapon still pointed.

  She held up a hand. “Wait, he’s holding something.”

  He opened the hand further to reveal a large silver coin. Bigger than a silver dollar and thicker, with markings on its face that wiggled.

  “Give… this,” the man grunted.

  Jamie leaned in closer. “You want me to give the coin to someone?”

  The man nodded. “Daniel.”

  “Daniel? Daniel who?”

  “Rice,” the man wheezed. “Give… to Daniel Rice.”

  ********************

  The EMTs, the bomb squad and the frightened couple were gone now, returning the lobby to calm. One of the detectives had taken the belt to a back room for examination. The bomb guys had declared it harmless.

  The intruder had had no wallet, no phone on him. One of the police techs was running a face and fingerprint match. No results yet. But the guy had left a calling card, of sorts.

  Jamie, Doherty, and two other patrol officers stood in a semicircle around Chief Jones, who held the oversized coin in a gloved hand, twisting it beneath overhead lights.

  Both sides of the silver coin shimmered with a rainbow of colors when tilted, like the surface of a DVD. Closer examination revealed animated holographic images. On one side, a three-dimensional golden eagle popped out, its wings flapping as the coin was tilted one way and then the other. On the back, an imposing building was fronted by columns that extended beyond the coin’s surface.

  It seemed far too complex to be money, but Jamie had never traveled the world. Maybe this was money in some faraway place. Or maybe it was a commemorative coin of some kind.

  “And you say this guy wanted you to take it?” Chief Jones asked, still studying the details on its surface.

  “Yes, sir,” Jamie answered. “He said I should give it to Daniel Rice.” She looked down, combing fingers through her hair. “Those were his last words.”

  They’d received a call from the EMTs—dead on arrival at East Orlando Hospital, brain hemorrhage. Jamie hated when people died, even the perps.

  Jones’ brow twisted. “Did he mean the scientist? That Daniel Rice?”

  Jamie shrugged. “I’m not sure, sir. But the scientist Daniel Rice is on TV all the time. It’s probably who he meant.”

  Jones turned the coin on its edge. “Did he say anything about the writing?” He held out the coin for her examination. Given the coin’s thickness, the bold capital letters stamped around its circumference were easy to read:

  SPIN UPON MIRRORED GLASS

  “No, sir,” Jamie answered. “The man didn’t explain the writing or anything else. He just asked me to take it.”

  The chief looked her squarely in the eyes. “Did you try spinning it? Did anyone?” Jones looked at each officer in the circle.

  Jamie shuffled her feet. They’d all been curious as soon as they’d read the words but had played things by the book. “None of the detectives were in the office, so we bagged the coin and put it in the evidence room along with the belt and the helmet.” She paused and lifted her eyebrows hopefully. “But, Chief… there’s a small mirror in the bathroom that’s only attached by a few screws.”

  Jones rubbed a hand on his chin for a moment and then spoke. “Yeah, I guess we’ll need to know what we’re dealing with before I take this any higher up the chain of command.” He glanced around the empty lobby. “Okay, Sergeant, go get the mirror. The man who thinks he’s from the future certainly has some interesting toys. Let’s see what it does.”

  She hurried down the hall and returned carrying a rectangular mirror, which she laid on the front desk. Jones touched the edge of the coin to the mirror and cocked his wrist.

  Backing away, Jamie asked, “You don’t think it will explode or anything, do you?”

  Jones shook his head. “We got an all clear from the bomb squad, but hell, who knows. The world is full of strange things these days.” He lifted the coin from the mirror. “You want to leave?”

  Jamie’s curiosity was piqued. After the excitement of the morning, she couldn’t miss the grand finale. How bad could it be? It was just a coin. A smile spread across her lips. “No way, Chief, I have to see this.”

  “Here we go, then.” Jones returned the coin to the center of the mirror’s surface, pinching it between his thumb and index finger. With a quick snap, he started it spinning.

  It spun like any other coin but made a low hum. A vibration, almost like the sound of a helicopter’s rotor beating the air. After a few seconds, rather than slowing down and falling over, the coin’s spin intensified. It rotated ever faster, becoming a blur. The vibrational hum increased too, its pitch getting higher as the coin sped up. Maybe this coin-helicopter-thing was going to lift off the mirror and fly through the station lobby.

  Jamie took a step back, as did everyone else. The sound became shrill, piercing the air with an almost inaudible pitch, and then faded away altogether. Maybe a dog could still hear it.

  The spinning coin emitted a sharp click, and a vertical cone of white light flashed from its base toward the ceiling. The onlookers flinched in unison.

  Images appeared around the perimeter of the light cone, human faces, each twisting as if the perspective was spinning along with the coin. A rainbow of colors reflected across the faces, cycling from red to yellow, green, blue and finally to violet. It was a bizarre mashup of light, form, and color, startling in its seemingly impossible origin but strangely beautiful too, like a modern art exhibit.

  The rotating faces stabilized like an old flickering film projection that eventually locks into synchronization. The multitude of perspectives and colors came together within the center of the cone, forming a single face with natural skin color. It was a man’s face, and fully three-dimensional.

  As Jamie stared in awe, the eyes of the floating head blinked, looked left and then right. The lips of the apparition lifted on one side, forming a wry smile.

  “Holy cow,” Jamie whispered. “Maybe this guy really did come from the future.”

  2 OSTP

  Daniel Rice leaned against a bookcase, his arms folded and a grin spreading across his face. He always enjoyed showing visitors around the Office of Science and Technology Policy, the building just steps from the White House, but this visitor was special.

  Nala Pasquier sat in Daniel’s high-back office chair, kicked her shoes off and put her bare feet up
on his desk. “I love your office. Way better than my closet at Fermilab.” She leaned back, hands clasped behind her head. “Ahh… I could get used to this.”

  It was her first venture into Daniel’s home territory, and she’d made herself comfortable right away. But that was Nala. Adaptable. Ready for anything.

  Physical attraction was the easiest part of their relationship. Those silky legs splayed across his desk seemed incongruous among the pens, paper and other objects of his routine workday, but he was only too happy to soak in the view. Nala was certainly attractive. And smart. And perceptive. But she was also courageously experimental, boldly carving her own path through life, a trait Daniel treasured more than any.

  Friday afternoons at OSTP were generally quiet, with most of the employees wrapping up for the weekend. It was a good time to show his houseguest where he worked. “You’d fit right in around here.” He brushed a finger across her toes. “Except for your complete disregard for the rules.”

  “What? No feet on desks?” She gave him a crooked smile.

  He shook his head. “You’d be surprised how formal it gets in an office that advises the president.”

  She scrunched up her nose in a fake pout, a classic Nala expression that Daniel found both brash and adorable. It was one of many looks from this brown-skinned beauty that made his heart melt.

  “Well… poofy poof on you,” she said, clearly holding back. Her more usual taunts could singe the lacquer off the door. She’d been on her best behavior ever since they’d walked into the office.

  Nala pulled her feet from the desk and sat up straight. She gazed innocently up at Daniel, her large eyes partly hidden behind strands of wavy brown hair. “Sorry. You won’t punish me, will you? At least… not here?”

  Daniel laughed, resisting the urge to kiss her. “I’ll give you a pass this time since you’re a visitor.”

  She rolled gorgeous eyes to her forehead. “Not quite the response I was looking for. Role play, Daniel, role play.”

  Daniel sighed. Another missed opportunity. It happened a lot. “I should have said…?”

  She stood up and put a hand to his cheek. “I can’t put the words into your mouth. That’d ruin all the fun. But don’t worry, you’re getting there.”

  Nala certainly knew how to have fun. She’d arrived a few days before and they’d spent their days touring the Washington sights, but not in any conventional tourist sense. They paddled kayaks past a serene Jefferson Memorial. At the Capitol steps, she handed her phone to a passerby and struck up an impromptu dance with Daniel. He was embarrassed by his clumsiness and the stares from tour groups, but he was happily surprised at the genuinely spontaneous photos.

  No tour of Washington would be complete without a visit to the Smithsonian, and Nala used their time to seek out the preserved artifacts of science including a superb display of historic particle accelerators. With tact Daniel didn’t know she had, Nala found a curator and pointed out a small mistake in how one of the cyclotrons had been displayed. The curator recognized her from Fermilab news reports and the two quickly became new best friends with smiling selfies taken in front of the exhibit.

  She absorbed Daniel’s guided tour of the capital city like she did everything — with an eager curiosity for all things new. But each evening, on their return to his condo across the river in Virginia, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and taken command. She guided, he followed. He loved every minute of it, even when her assertive style pushed him into new territory.

  “Guess I’ll have to… I don’t know… tickle your badly behaved toes when we get home.”

  She put a hand to her chin. “Hmm. Very boy scout. But going in the right direction.”

  “Nala, I don’t think I’ll ever be like you.”

  She knitted her brow. “Like I’d want that? We’re different people and that’s fantastic. Some of the best relationships start from opposite corners. Jesus, it’s why men and women are attracted to each other in the first place. We’re different, physically, emotionally. I have lots of girlfriends, but I’m looking for something else in a man.”

  He leaned in close to her. “So… do I meet your requirements?”

  She smiled, lifting both eyebrows. “You’re way ahead of most guys. You know what a neutrino is.” She brushed the tip of her nose against his and spoke in a low, sultry tone. “Oh yeah, Mr. Government Scientist, you most certainly meet my requirements.”

  She gave him a peck on the lips and twirled around in place, the tone of her voice doing a similar one-eighty. “What else you got in this office that I should see?”

  “You’ve seen all this dungeon has to offer.” He looked at his watch. “How about drinks before dinner?”

  She nodded, and he led her into the foyer of the office, where the OSTP receptionist, Janine Ryder, studied a computer screen. Janine looked up. “Did you get the full tour?”

  “Yes, your office is beautiful,” Nala answered. “I love the French architecture.”

  “I do too,” Janine said, “but not everyone favors the Eisenhower Building.” She jerked her head toward Daniel.

  Daniel shrugged. “Come back in January. It feels like a medieval crypt in here, only colder.”

  Janine laughed. “Pay no attention to him, Nala. He just likes to whine about living anywhere east of the Mississippi.”

  “A westerner at heart, I guess,” Daniel said. He had nothing against the east, but the rugged west had always been the foundation of his soul. He longed for another hike deep into the Grand Canyon, another climb up Mount Rainier. What easterners called mountains weren’t much more than speed bumps.

  “What’s up for the weekend?” Daniel asked Janine.

  “Poconos with a friend. The fall colors should be great,” she answered. A year ago, Daniel could have been that friend, but dating a colleague was awkward at best, a notion Janine didn’t dispute. With Nala in the office, long-standing tensions were swept away. Daniel had a girlfriend now, even if their long-distance relationship was limited to getting together once a month.

  “How about you two?” Janine asked.

  “A hike on the Appalachian Trail. Fresh air and all that,” Daniel answered.

  “I’ve never been, but I hear the trail is very pretty.”

  “You know, it’s funny—” Daniel’s thought was interrupted when two men in dark suits walked through the open door and into the foyer. One carried a briefcase, tucking sunglasses into his jacket pocket. Very official. Very serious.

  Daniel had no idea who they were. Nala tensed, glancing his way. She’d never been comfortable with figures of authority, and these guys radiated authority. Daniel stepped aside, allowing Janine to do her job.

  “Good afternoon, welcome to OSTP. How can I help you?” Janine asked sweetly.

  The elder of the two glanced at Daniel, then spoke to Janine. “FBI. Agent Griffith. This is Agent Torre.” They both displayed identification. “We’re here to see Dr. Daniel Rice.”

  “Agent Griffith,” she acknowledged. She motioned toward Daniel just as he offered his hand. “Meet Dr. Daniel Rice.”

  “Always happy to help the FBI,” Daniel said. “What brings you here?” As a scientific investigator and part-time public figure, Daniel rarely interacted with law enforcement. The investigation at Fermilab the year before was a notable exception.

  Nala slipped a hand under Daniel’s arm, a quiet signal of her need to stay close. Her lips tightened and her brow pressed down over eyes shooting daggers at the intruders.

  Agent Griffith glanced at her defensive posture, the wrinkles across his forehead deepening. Returning his attention to Daniel, he spoke with a gruff voice. “It’s confidential. We’ll need a secured meeting place. Preferably a SCIF.”

  SCIF, or Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, was basically a conference room sealed to the outside world. Soundproofing construction, electronics isolation, the works. SCIFs were all the rage in Washington, almost a competition between agencies. My SCIF is bigger
than your SCIF—that kind of thing.

  The Eisenhower Building had just such a room in the basement. Looking over Janine’s shoulder, Daniel could see that she’d already brought up the room reservation form on her computer.

  Ordinarily, he’d cooperate without hesitation, but today he had a guest. “Could this wait until Monday? I’m not officially working today and we were just about to leave. I’d be happy to schedule some time.”

  The agent shook his head once. “Sorry, Dr. Rice. We wouldn’t normally barge in like this, but it’s a priority investigation. It can’t wait. Twenty minutes, plus or minus, depending on how our conversation goes.” He dipped his head toward Nala. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Daniel took a deep breath. These guys didn’t look like they were going to take no for an answer. He turned to Nala. Her naturally buoyant personality had disappeared with the FBI presence, and Daniel understood why. She’d faced arrest on a long list of federal charges only a year before in the Fermilab investigation.

  Nala didn’t say anything, making it clear enough that the next step was his decision. Twenty minutes. A small delay in their plans for the evening, but nothing major. Best to accommodate the FBI.

  “Do you mind waiting here?” he asked.

  Nala whispered, “No problem, I’ll be fine.”

  Janine hit a few keys on her computer. “You’re booked.”

  Daniel managed a smile. “Okay, then, Agent Griffith, Agent Torre. Let’s chat.” He gave Nala a hug. “Make yourself comfortable. Back in a flash.”

  Daniel led the two FBI agents down several flights of stairs to the basement. They checked in with a clerk, who confiscated their cell phones and ushered them into the SCIF. The massive door closed with a thud. Eavesdropping from the hallway was unlikely.

  Inside, it looked like any other conference room, though the walls were bare.

  “If it makes any difference, I have top secret clearance,” Daniel said as they settled into chairs around a large table.

  “Yes, sir, we know,” Agent Torre said. He laid his briefcase on the table, aligning it precisely parallel with its edge. In any other circumstance, Daniel might have joked about the man’s idiosyncrasies, but Torre seemed to be entirely humorless. Agent Griffith didn’t look any better.