– Channel 15 News
Day 11, 7:00AM
I arrived at Wells’ office at 7:00 on the dot. Claudia gave me a look that said, “You have my sympathy,” and told me to go on in.
I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. I took a deep breath, assumed military posture, and stepped into his office, the image of control and confidence. “Director Wells, you wanted to see me?”
Wells rarely smiled, and this was no exception, but this time his scowl would melt the paint off the wall. I kept my composure when he roared, “Come in and close the door!”
As I pulled the door shut, I heard him grind out to Claudia over the intercom, “Don’t disturb us for anyone less than the president.”
I stood at parade rest, and he didn’t ask me to sit down.
How shall I describe Director Wells? First of all, he wasn’t normally so hard headed. The potential for teleportals to bring a disaster was real for him, and he was determined to prevent it. He was near the top of his class when he graduated from MIT some thirty-plus years ago. Over his career with the government he developed into a politician. It comes with the territory. Of course, the aggregated attacks on the U.S. and our way of life had made him more than a little paranoid, which had to be why he was so opposed to teleportal development. In a way his concerns made sense to me. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to understand that Pandora’s Box was already open and there was no way to close it.
From what I’d seen in my personal contact with him, he was a highly competent manager and a mediocre leader. But he was doggedly stubborn. Once his mind was made up, it almost took an act of God to change it. Generally, it was best not to cross him, but this was a special circumstance. I had to sway him, if not today, very soon. We needed real answers, not answers that only supported what he wanted to hear.
As I stood waiting for my reaming, I looked at the man. His service as a bureaucrat seemed to have left him with a permanent frown, so you could never be certain whether he was happy or angry. Right now I was pretty sure that he was mad as hell.
“Ms. Pederson,”—He made it sound like an insult—“are you deliberately being insubordinate?”
Insubordinate? I knew I was treading a narrow line, but I wasn’t being insubordinate. On the other hand, I had expected an outraged response. I had already decided that my best defense was to let him vent until he lost his momentum. I simply said, “Pardon?”
His face was turning red. Had he taken that as sarcasm? His voice rose. “I made it abundantly clear that I didn’t approve of you or anyone else investigating the matter/antimatter explosion that Mr. Reid caused. Why did you go over my head to the president?”
“Sir, I didn’t go over your head.” I kept my voice level. I think my self-control made him angrier, if that was possible.
He choked out, “You maneuvered the president into providing you a charge number.”
“No, sir. He called me in to brief him on the situation in Colorado. When I finished, he asked what I was doing, and I told him. Providing a charge number was strictly his idea.”
Wells continued to look apoplectic. The best I could do was to wait for him to resume. I kept my expression neutral and stood silent. It reminded me of inspection in ranks at Annapolis. I half expected him to walk around me looking for flaws in my appearance.
Finally he gathered enough self-control to speak. “Ms. Pederson, you have been working at cross-purposes with me ever since you were assigned to this project. Is it because of your personal desire to see these infernal machines made available or because of your relationship with Mr. Santori?”
My relationship with Troy? If he was trying to get under my skin, he nearly succeeded. I almost broke my silence, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. The real question was what could I say that would put him on the right track? He was allowing himself to be blinded by his dread. I had to convince him that the only way to overcome the security issues was to deal with them, not try to suppress the technology.
He glared at me. “Well?”
“Sir, I am well aware of your concerns about teleportals, and to some extent I agree they are justified. Unfortunately, your means of dealing with them is interfering with developing real solutions …”
Wells sputtered, “Interfering? … I’m trying to protect this great nation from a disaster! I …” He stopped. He may have been closed-minded, but he wasn’t stupid. Much as he disagreed with me on the issue of teleportals, he also knew my patriotism was indisputable.
Maybe there was a chance to get through to him now. I had to try. “Sir, please think about this. Surely you realize we can’t undo the breakthrough. Look at what’s already happened. A college senior—admittedly a genius—used information available on the internet to build a working model and then demonstrated it to the whole world. There’s no way to undo that …”
“Exactly!” He thundered. “We should throw that woman – Dr. Kim - in jail for treason! If she hadn’t published those papers, we could have kept this wretched thing under wraps.”
I couldn’t help myself. He wasn’t dealing with the real problem, and he didn’t seem to notice. I raised my voice. “You must understand that Dr. Kim did nothing wrong. There is no law against advancing science.” I paused. “Besides, can’t you see it’s too late now? Trying to stop research on teleportals in the United States will just put us behind the rest of the world. It won’t be long before someone else starts producing them and puts them on the market. Would you want the Russians to be the ones who do it? Those teleportals are unlikely to have the safeguards Dr. Kim and her associates are developing.” I made the mistake of finishing with, “And we now have conclusive evidence that the explosion was not matter/antimatter. It was murder.”
I could see his outrage when I called the explosion murder. I braced for the explosion, but instead of challenging what I had said, he avoided the issue. He tried another argument, “Ms. Pederson, you don’t seem to see that this thing is going to cause an economic disaster. Millions of people will lose their jobs.”
Maybe I was getting through. “No sir, I understand that’s true … if we don’t take action”—I held up a hand to keep him from interrupting—“… not to stifle development but to take advantage of what it can do for us. As I told the president, development is going to happen. There’s no way we can stop it. Suppressing the technology here in the U.S. just keeps us from dealing with the problems. We, especially our government, need to take the lead in solving the problems. The Alternates did that, and it made a real difference. If you want, I could set up a conference call with them for you. It might allay your concerns.”
I think the idea of America taking the lead appealed to him. He sputtered before lapsing into silence, but his expression had changed from a scowl to a frown of speculation. After looking at his hands for a second or two, he finally muttered, “I’ll have to consider that.” He waved back-handed at the door and said, “Dismissed.”
Chapter 27
Rebecca Williams guesting on Channel 15: “So, Dr. Friedlund, how many universes are there to scan?”
Friedlund: “I couldn’t say. There’s really no way to know. There is some speculation that there may be an infinite number and that many differences. That’s one of the things that makes this line of work so exciting. We don’t know what we’ll find. We consider ourselves very fortunate that we happened to find your universe.”
Williams: [Stunned silence]
– Channel 15 News
Day 11, 8:00AM
I had barely slept last night. The thought of this morning’s meeting with Wells had kept my mind racing, and when I did go to sleep, my dreams were all unpleasant. It wasn’t that meeting with him bothered me so much. It was the fact that anything I did to cross him could make him more obdurate and might cause Frost trouble. Frost had accepted that, but I couldn’t. It had been drilled into me since I was a kid that I’m responsible for whatever I do. With the meeting behind me, I was grateful that it had gone as well as it had. I may
not have changed Wells’ mind, but I had at least given him something to think about, and he wasn’t fuming when I had left him. Now on my way to the university, I was charged up and ready to go.
I arrived at the registrar’s office nearly an hour behind Laura. “I was beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind,” she said.
She smiled and ushered me to the side office and sat me down in front of a computer. When she had logged me in, she said, “Good luck. Let me know what you find.” She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Sitting at the computer, I was in my environment. I had narrowed the search the day before to eight professors, and by looking for sudden drops in grades, I finished up by noon with an astonishing four dozen students. If these were all clients Reid had “tutored” in the months before he quit selling tests to work on his teleportal project, he had been very busy.
I printed the full report for Laura and a copy for myself. On my way out I stopped by her office. “Thanks for letting me do this. I hope this report helps you curb some of the cheating.” I hesitated because I had thought of an additional favor. “I have one more request: would you consider an amnesty deal for the students who are willing to cooperate with my investigation. It would make my job easier. After all, this evidence is purely circumstantial.”
“Hmmm … Amnesty.” Laura appeared to be seriously thinking about it before she responded. “You know, that may not be a bad idea. For any student involved in the cheating who gives us an honest account of what happened, I think we can arrange for amnesty, BUT”—she emphasized the “but”—“they would have to retake the classes in which they cheated to get credit for them.”
That sounded reasonable to me.
She stood and shook my hand. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Keep me apprised of what you learn. And I hope you can uncover the real cause of the explosion.”
◆◆◆
Day 11, 12:30PM
I found a nearby salad shop for lunch. As I ate, I sorted through the list of students in the report. I was searching for something in it that would help me identify who would most likely be honest about Reid, but nothing jumped out at me. Of course there was still Gardner who surely had more information. Even though I had sensed outright hostility for Reid in Gardner, I didn’t think he had told me the whole story. I needed to talk to him again and get him to open up, but how could I do that? Until I could answer that question, I was left with the football players on the list. Maybe I should start with them. I’d simply have to be careful to not let on that they were implicating the coach.
I had already moved Manny Castillo to the top of the list, so I’d try him first. Checking his class schedule, I found he was currently between classes. When I called his cell phone, the call went to voicemail. “This is Manny. Leave a message at the tone.”
To keep from accidently closing him off, I kept my message vague. “Hi, Manny. I’m Samantha Pederson. I’m doing some research on Duncan Reid’s tutoring. I’d like to talk to you about your experiences. Do you have some time this afternoon when we could get together? Call me, please.”
He must have liked my voice. My phone rang while I was walking to my car. When I repeated my question, he said, “Sure. Any time after my next class.”
I couldn’t believe it was that easy. His next class got out at 3:35, so we agreed to meet at the student union at four o’clock. I arrived a few minutes early, but Manny was already there. When I walked up, he scrambled to his feet. “Are you Miss Pederson?”
I nodded once and watched him in fascination. He was the first person since the explosion who hadn’t reacted to my injuries. Instead, he was gaping at me with an “I think I’m in love” expression. I wondered how long that would last once I got to actually questioning him.
We found an out of the way table. I sat down across from him and opened the folder with the material I had collected. With the notes I had on him laid out, I examined them once again trying to figure out the best way to question him. When he started fidgeting, I closed the folder and said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re a left guard, aren’t you?”
He tipped his head.
Well, that didn’t work. I tried again. “I’m told you were the first player that Coach Bednarik referred to Duncan Reid for tutoring. Is that correct?”
“I think so. Is that important?” Manny squirmed in his chair.
His question reminded me of Jack’s advice. “Remember, you’re trying to find out what they know. Anything you tell them may lead their answers, and you don’t want that. You want the truth.” I clamped down on my explanation and instead said, “As I told you on the phone, I’m checking out Reid’s tutoring. Please let me ask my questions, and then I’ll answer yours. Okay?”
“Yeah. I guess.” He avoided my eyes by watching the finger he traced around on the top of the table.
“You were the first player that Coach Bednarik referred to Duncan Reid for tutoring. Could you tell me how that happened?”
He started hesitantly, as if ashamed to admit what had happened. “It was two seasons ago.” Then his enthusiasm seemed to pick up. “I’d just made the football team and, boy was I pumped up.” He even smiled briefly. Then he frowned. “But the classes were tough, and I spent all my time prepping for football.” He hesitated. “My grades weren’t very good to start with. Then the next season I flunked a couple of tests: math and English lit. I was sure I was off the team before I really got started. I went to the coach’s office to give him the bad news. Coach Bednarik is such a great guy, and I hated to tell him that I couldn’t play no more. Those two damned tests … Why couldn’t I have passed them?” He looked at me as if he expected an answer.
I simply said, “Go on.”
“Look, I know I’m not the sharpest, but those classes were supposed to be easy. Everybody says Professor Lowry is the easiest grader in the school, but I always had trouble with English lit. And Professor Marks practically taught the math test.”
He paused for long enough that I had to prompt him. “But you failed both tests?”
“Yeah.” He shook his head as if to clear it and sighed. “I had to tell the coach. It was hard, but when I got there, the door was open so I couldn’t turn around and walk away.” I could read the pain in eyes and his voice. He swallowed hard and continued, “The coach was sitting at his desk. When I knocked, he looked surprised to see me. He waved for me to come in and asked what he could do for me. I told him I had bad news, but he was really great about it. He said he’d arrange retests, and he did. And he said he’d help me find a tutor. He did that too. That was Duncan.”
“That’s what I heard.” I smiled and encouraged him to continue. “I gather Duncan was a big help. What did he actually do for you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, he really was. He had a bunch of old tests that he made me take. After each one, he showed me what the answers were and why. Then he gave me the test again until I passed.”
“So how did you do on the real tests?”
“I still didn’t know all the answers, even some I thought I knew cold. But I passed. That was the main thing.” A quizzical look ran across his face, and he pursed his eyebrows. “Funny though, the real tests were almost exactly like the last ones Duncan had me practice.”
I glanced at his scores and said, “Well, you did remarkably well.” …considering that Reid deliberately gave you some wrong answers to keep you from exposing him by being too good. “So, would you say your experience with Reid helped you?”
“Oh, yeah! For sure.” He grinned. “I got better grades in every class I took with him helping.” He frowned. “Of course, when he stopped tutoring me my grades slid, but I’m making a comeback now.”
I reopened the folder, and looking at his grades again, I saw that when Reid abruptly quit tutoring, Manny failed three classes, but he retook them and got passing grades. He’d struggled, but he hadn’t failed any classes since. I wondered if Laura would let him graduate without making
up the courses he passed with Reid’s “tutoring.”
I put my notes back in the folder. “Well, Manny, I think that’s all I need. Thanks for your time.”
I started to get up and then remembered to ask. “Oh … Would you happen know how the coach knew about Reid by any chance?”
“He found out about Duncan from Hiram Quincy, our right guard.” Then he surprised me. “Duncan was cheating, wasn’t he? That makes me a cheater too, doesn’t it? What’s going to happen to me?” The pain in his eyes cut into me.
I sat back down. “I don’t know for sure. Before I came to talk to you, Ms. Bachman agreed to give students amnesty for the cheating if they cooperated in my investigation. She said they’d have to make up the courses they had cheated on if they wanted to graduate. So you have that in your favor, and I don’t believe you knew you were cheating at the time. She may take that into account.” In the few minutes I had spent talking to him, I’d come to really like the big galoot. My heart went out to him. He didn’t deserve this. I swallowed my irritation and forced myself to remember life isn’t always fair.
As I got up, I said, “Hang in there, Manny. I’ll definitely put in a good word for you.”
If I’d known he’d go straight to Bednarik, I might have done things differently.
◆◆◆
Day 11, 5:00PM
Quincy wasn’t on my list of probable Reid clients, so I had to get his information from the Division of Student Affairs. When I called him, I got his voice mail and left a message. Then, since he wasn’t immediately available, I headed back to Reston and checked in with Frost.
He was at his desk and stood when I knocked on his door. “Sam, come on in.” Okay, that was a new one. He always called me Pederson or Samantha.
Damage Control Page 18
