Journey Through the Mirrors

by T. R. Williams

  “Under the dock?” Valerie repeated. “Did any of the Château’s cameras pick anything up?”

  “No. At this point, we have no evidence that indicates that the intruder entered the house. We have agents going room by room to see if anything is missing. So far, nothing.”

  “What about the tunnel? It’s clear that the assailant knew about it.”

  “We’re mapping the tunnels now. There is more than one tunnel down there, and they lead to various parts of the estate. It’s going to take some time.”

  “Thanks, Colette. Keep us posted.” Valerie disconnected the call.

  “Who would want to break into the Château?” Sylvia asked. “Why take such a risk and kill two agents?”

  “We’ll have to let the team in Switzerland deal with it for now,” Valerie said. “Did we get anything more from the Commonwealth?”

  Before either Sylvia or Chetan could answer, a portly agent with a thick mop of unruly red hair walked over. “Hey, Val,” he said, with a defeated look on his face.

  “What’s wrong, Darvis?” Valerie asked. “You look like someone stole your puppy.”

  “I wish that was my problem,” he said. “I need some help, or at least some advice.” Seeing Sylvia, he made an attempt to smooth down his hair. She gave him a slight wave and a smile. “You know those earthquakes we’ve been having?”

  “You mean, like the one that almost killed me?” Valerie said.

  “Sorry, didn’t know that.” Darvis pointed over at the large 3-D image of the globe rotating in the northeast corner of the Cube. “See the red, green, blue, and yellow circles overlaid on the map? They represent the global seismic events that we’ve been recording for the last three days. The red indicators were the first ones we recorded. Then came the greens, the blues, and most recently the yellows.”

  “Looks like the frequency of seismic events has been rising,” Valerie observed. “Many more yellow circles than red.”

  “And the circles are clustered in certain regions of the world,” Chetan said. “China, Egypt, Mexico, southern England, and southern India have experienced the most earthquakes.”

  “So how can we help you, Darvis?” Valerie asked.

  “I was wondering if any of you have ever heard of an earthquake without an epicenter?”

  Sylvia and Chetan frowned. “What do you mean, without an epicenter?” Sylvia asked.

  “That’s impossible,” Chetan added. “Which one didn’t have an epicenter?”

  “That’s just it,” Darvis said. “None of those earthquakes that you see recorded on the map had epicenters.”

  “How is that possible?” Sylvia asked.

  “No idea,” Darvis said, exasperated. “I’ve been working with the geologists at the E-QON II center in Brussels, but they’re as stumped as we are.”

  An alarm blared, interrupting the conversation. Valerie looked around, trying to determine what was wrong. Lab technicians were moving quickly to the southwest corner of the facility, where a series of bright red and white lights were flashing. “There’s something going on over at the Chromatography Bubble,” she said.

  “Goshi is in there,” Sylvia said. “He’s testing the foreign residue samples we received from North Africa.”

  Valerie had an incredulous look on her face. “What do you mean, testing? Those samples are still supposed to be in quarantine. Who authorized the testing?”

  “Goshi told me he received a call from Director Sully. She was adamant that he start. She told him that you knew about it.”

  Valerie rushed to the Bubble, followed by Sylvia and Chetan.

  The Chromatography Bubble was an airtight portion of the lab where compounds and other materials could be vaporized for analysis. A single large window made of two-inch-thick tempered glass provided a view into the five-square-meter room.

  “What in the world is going on?” Valerie asked, as she arrived at the window.

  Two men were rolling on the floor, gagging and struggling to breathe. Goshi was kneeling beside one of them, trying to help him. A fine gray ash was floating in the air.

  Sylvia took a seat at one of the control panels, joined by Chetan. “The oxygen level is at fifteen percent and dropping,” she reported. “I’m going to turn up the supply in there.”

  Valerie watched as Goshi moved to the other technician, trying to help him sit up. But it was too late. The man was dead. A moment later, the first technician became motionless.

  Sylvia hit a button on the control panel, turning on the microphone. “Goshi! Go over and get into a bio suit, and hook it up to one of the oxygen tanks.”

  “What happened to the oxygen?” Valerie asked, as Goshi followed Sylvia’s instructions. “I thought you increased the supply. It’s still only at fifteen percent!”

  “I did,” Sylvia said. “I don’t know what’s going on.” More gray ash swirled through the air, and now it was accumulating on every surface in the Bubble. It was even sticking to the window, making it difficult for people on the outside to see what was going on inside the Bubble. Sylvia pushed the oxygen supply to max.

  Goshi had put on the bio suit and attached a portable oxygen tank to his back. He stepped over the bodies of the technicians and stood by the window.

  “Are you all right?” Valerie asked. “What happened?”

  “We were running our tests on the substance that we received from the Commonwealth.” Goshi’s voice sounded muffled. “Then, suddenly, these specks of dust were in the air. April and Jonathan began to have trouble breathing.” Goshi used his glove to wipe clean the window and the visor on his bio suit. The gray dust continued to fall, now more rapidly than before.

  “I think we have a big problem,” Chetan said, working frantically on the computer. “We are picking up a biological life form in there, and it is not Goshi.”

  “What are you talking about?” Valerie asked.

  “Whatever exactly that gray dust is,” Chetan said, reading the computer display, “it appears to be a living organism.”

  “Goshi,” Sylvia said, “can you put some of that dust on the electron screen?”

  Goshi nodded. He walked over to the electron microscope and removed its plastic cover. He opened the test sample chamber and allowed some of the airborne particles to float in. He turned the device on and walked back to the window, which he had to wipe clean again. He gave the thumbs-up sign.

  Sylvia projected a 3-D holographic image. Chetan slid his chair over. They were looking at fifty spherical objects moving in random directions. Each one had six arms protruding from it. At the end of each arm was a cone-like structure. Also, attached to each object was a long, thin appendage that looked like a tail.

  “What are they?” Valerie asked, incredulous. Before she could express another thought, the fifty spherical objects somehow multiplied to one hundred.

  “They’re alive, all right, but they don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen,” Chetan said. “And they are reproducing at an alarming rate.”

  Valerie looked into the Bubble and saw confirmation of what Chetan was saying. Goshi continued to wipe the gray dust from the window and his visor. The dead bodies on the floor were now almost completely covered.

  “They just reproduced again,” Chetan said. “What are they feeding on?”

  “Looks like they have a very short life span,” Sylvia said. “About a third of them stop moving every few seconds. They are some kind of biological nanite, man-made living organisms designed for some purpose.”

  A loud snapping sound grabbed their attention. The glass window of the Chromatography Bubble had cracked. Chetan looked at a biometric display. “The pressure is falling in there,” he said. “A vacuum is forming.”

  “How is that possible?” Valerie asked. “Where is the oxygen going? What is sucking it out?”

  “The only other organic things in there with Goshi are the nanites,” Chetan said.

  “Maybe the nanites are feeding on the oxygen,” Sylvia said, frantically working
the computer display. “I’m killing the O-two.”

  More popping sounds could be heard. Valerie watched as the crack in the window began to spider.

  “The pressure is still dropping,” Chetan said.

  “We need to get everyone out of here,” Valerie said. “If the vacuum keeps increasing and that window shatters . . .”

  “Then the nanites will be released out here.” Sylvia finished Valerie’s thought. “They’ll start consuming all the oxygen in the lab!”

  “How much time before that window breaks?” Valerie asked.

  “Impossible to say,” Chetan replied. “Minutes, maybe.”

  Valerie turned and addressed the other technicians who were standing nearby. “All of you need to get out of here and take everyone else in the Cube with you.” She turned to Sylvia. “Sound the evacuation alarm. Everyone needs to vacate this facility right now! Go!”

  Sylvia called in the evacuation order, and the technicians scrambled. Within moments, a voice came over the loudspeaker, ordering everyone to evacuate. Only Valerie, Sylvia, and Chetan remained by the Bubble, with Goshi trapped inside.

  “How do we kill these things?” Valerie asked.

  “Goshi,” Sylvia said, “how were these nanites transported to us?”

  Goshi didn’t answer; his face showed fear.

  “Goshi!” Valerie yelled. “We need to stay focused here. How were the nanites transported to us?”

  “Nitrogen,” he answered, regaining his thoughts. “The samples were maintained in liquid nitrogen capsules.”

  “Can we flood the room?” Chetan asked.

  “That may stop the nanites,” Sylvia answered, “but Goshi’s bio suit wasn’t made to withstand such a low temperature. It will shatter within seconds.”

  “We need another idea!” Valerie said.

  Another snap sounded as two more large cracks formed along the outer edges of the window.

  Sylvia grabbed Chetan’s arm. “Help me get a few thermal suits. They will be able to withstand the low temps.” The two of them hurried off, leaving Valerie near the Bubble.

  “Hold on, Goshi, we’ll figure out something.” Valerie received a call on her PCD. It was Director Sully.

  “Did you just order the evacuation of the building? You had better have a good explanation for this, Agent Perrot.”

  “I don’t have time to justify anything to you right now,” Valerie shot back. “You can blame me later if you want. But right now, two analysts are dead, and a member of my team is in grave danger because he’s conducting a test you authorized.” Valerie hung up her PCD.

  Sylvia and Chetan returned, wearing thermal suits and oxygen tanks strapped to their backs. They had brought back two more for Valerie and Goshi.

  “What’s the plan?” Valerie asked.

  “We need to get Goshi into one of these suits and then flood the Bubble with liquid nitro,” Sylvia said.

  “How are you going to do that without opening the door?” Goshi asked, stepping over the bodies of his fellow agents and moving to a control panel on the wall. He pressed a few buttons. A yellow strobe light began to flash. The inside of the Bubble began to frost up.

  “Goshi!” Sylvia yelled. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s releasing liquid nitrogen into the Bubble,” Chetan said, looking at a monitor.

  “Turn off the nitrogen supply,” Valerie ordered.

  “I can’t,” Chetan said. “He jammed the valve.”

  Goshi’s muffled voice came over the intercom. “This is the only solution, Val. You can’t take the risk of letting these nanites out of here, and you know it. If only one of them gets out, then a lot more people are going to die.”

  Valerie placed her hand on the window. She could barely see Goshi’s face through the ash that had accumulated on his visor.

  “It’s all right, Valerie. I once watched Dominic Burke give his life for me. Now it’s time to pass that favor along.” Goshi walked calmly over to his two fallen coworkers and squatted beside them. He gently wiped the dust off their faces. When he was done, he sat in a chair close to where they lay. He undid the latches to the helmet of his bio suit.

  “No!” Sylvia shouted. She put her hands over her face and turned away.

  Chetan looked on silently. Valerie watched Goshi remove his helmet. He glanced over at the window, which was almost completely coated with frost, then smiled at Valerie and closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Valerie could see the puffs of Goshi’s breath in the cold of the room. Frost now, instead of gray dust, began to accumulate on everything in the Bubble. Goshi’s breaths grew smaller, until they ceased entirely. The gray dust that once floated in the Bubble fell innocently to the floor and onto Goshi’s lifeless body.

  “We have to find out who did this,” Valerie whispered. “We have to make sure they pay.”

  24

  Be certain and then become.

  —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

  NEW CHICAGO, 2:30 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 22, 2070

  “You’ve had a lot to deal with over the last few days,” Mr. Perrot said to Logan. “The narrow escape in Mexico and Jamie’s injury, your mother’s recordings, Mr. Quinn’s picture, and now the vision of the man in a laboratory.”

  “I’m definitely at some kind of nexus point,” Logan said. “It feels sort of similar to when you knocked on my door the morning after the auction and the Council murders.”

  After Jamie’s doctor visit, Logan had taken his daughter for a late lunch and then brought her back to the studio with him. While Jamie was delighted to miss the rest of the school day, she was disappointed about missing orchestra practice. She decided to make up for that by practicing her violin at the studio. Jasper was giving a short tour to a group of visitors who had come to see the restored replica of the Creation of Adam fresco. Logan hadn’t told anyone that Sebastian Quinn, its previous owner, had informed him that it was actually the original. He thought it prudent not to broadcast that information.

  Logan took a tin box off a shelf in the work room and set it on a stainless-steel table. It contained the broken relic that Mr. Montez had hired Logan to restore. Behind them, Edvard Munch’s The Scream was on an easel next to a few of Cassandra’s mosaics, which they had brought out of the vault.

  “Have you told Valerie about the vision you had last night?” Mr. Perrot asked.

  “No,” Logan said. “Just you. Valerie’s dealing with her own issues right now. She called earlier and said there was a big accident at the lab. Three scientists are dead, including a valued member of her team. Plus, she’s under tremendous pressure to figure out what caused the natural gas explosion in northern Africa. Not a good time for her or the WCF.”

  “Is she all right?” Mr. Perrot asked, concerned. “That’s the second member of her team she has lost in less than one year.”

  “She’s doing fine,” Logan replied, opening the tin box, which contained many smaller containers. “Have you heard from Madu again?”

  “No,” Mr. Perrot said. “You can add him to our list of curious developments.”

  “Why, after all these years, would he suddenly contact you?”

  “I doubt we will know the answer to that question until I speak to Madu again.”

  Together Logan and Mr. Perrot removed thirty-eight small containers from the tin box and set them on the table. Logan opened one up. Inside were five small broken pieces of stone packed in protective black molded foam. He set it down and opened another. Mr. Perrot followed suit, and within a few minutes all thirty-eight were open. The stone fragments, which varied in shape and size, had rough edges, and most of them had various hues of pigment on one side—blue, red, yellow, and black. Logan ran his finger across a fragment on which a flower had been painted.

  “Reminds me of something I saw in my vision last night,” Logan said. “The scientist I told you about was drawing a cross that looked something like this in his notebook. Except he drew a circle around it. It also vaguely looks like an image we sa
w painted on the walls of the chamber that Jordan and Jamie fell into in the pyramid. At that time, we thought it was a snowflake. Which doesn’t make sense, now that I think about it, because it doesn’t snow in Mexico.”

  Logan looked at the hundreds of pieces in front of him and sighed, wondering where to start. “It’s not going to be easy to put all of this together.”

  “When do you have to complete this restoration job?” Mr. Perrot asked.

  “Mr. Montez didn’t give me a deadline,” Logan said. “But I suspect that he is under some pressure from the Tripod Group, the think tank that funds his research.”

  “Hey, Dad.” A voice suddenly interrupted. It was Jordan.

  “How did you get here?” Logan asked.

  “I asked Ms. Sally to drop me off when she picked me up at school,” he answered, waving at Mr. Perrot and tossing his green backpack onto the floor. He took a notebook from his backpack and started rifling through its pages enthusiastically. “Dad, did you know that there are pyramids in China? They’re flat-toppers just like the ones we saw in Mexico. There are hundreds of them around the world.”

  “Jordan is writing a report on pyramids for a school project,” Logan explained to Mr. Perrot.

  “Well, seeing as you are somewhat of an expert on pyramids,” Mr. Perrot said, “perhaps you’d like to assist your father and me in putting these pieces back together.”

  Jordan’s face lit up as he took the fragment that Logan was holding. “This looks like the snowflake we saw in the mural in the secret chamber.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Logan said. “Mr. Montez said these fragments were found in a tunnel they discovered in the Pyramid of the Moon several months ago.”

  Jordan reached into his backpack and pulled out his PCD. “I have an idea. Let’s use the Puzzler!”

  “The what?” asked Logan.

  Jordan projected a cube-shaped grid over the table with his PCD. “It’s a puzzle solver,” he said. “My friend Zack showed it to me at school.” He took one of the pieces from the box and set it near his PCD. He then pressed a button, which caused a red laser to scan the surface of the stone fragment. Within moments, its 3-D image was projected within the grid. He reached into the projected grid and, with various hand gestures, was able to rotate and size the image as he desired. “We need to scan all the pieces, and the Puzzler will help us put them together.”