by Dan Willis
“Dr. Burnham’s granddaughter hired me to find out who did this to him,” Alex continued. “Right now the only thing I have to go on is that he was working on something in his garage and whoever attacked him stole it.”
Harlan’s face grew angry.
“I can assure you, Mr. Lockerby, that no one here would stoop to violence and theft to get Leonard’s designs,” he said.
“Easy, Doc,” Alex said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t think anyone here hurt Dr. Burnham.” He pulled the paper with the formula on it from his pocket and handed it over. “I just want to know if this means anything to you?”
Harlan put his glasses up on top of his head and squinted at the paper. Alex watched him closely as he read. Clearly Harlan didn’t like what he was reading.
“You recognize that,” Alex said. It was a statement rather than a question.
Harlan sighed and handed the paper back.
“I was hoping it was something else,” he said. “Something new.” He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I take it you know what he was working on?”
“No,” Harlan said, putting his glasses back on. “You can never tell with Leonard. But if that paper is part of it, I can tell you where it all started. Come with me.”
He turned and headed through a plain, white door behind the receptionist’s desk. Alex followed into a long, stark hallway with doors on either side. The doors on the left all had frosted windows in them and Alex could see the vague appearance of offices beyond. On the right, the doors were plain with only a number stenciled in the center.
The last door on the left had Dr. Harlan Taylor printed on it in white lettering, but Alex’s guide went past it without a pause, entering a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Following, Alex found himself in a large workroom that reminded him of Dr. Kellin’s lab. Beakers, tubes, burners, and graduated cylinders were everywhere, along with rows and rows of glass jars containing various liquids and powders.
Harlan led Alex past all these and through another door in the back of the room. This time the door led to a smaller space with many glass enclosures. Most had holes with rubber gloves mounted in them to allow someone to work on whatever was inside without being exposed to it.
“Over here,” Harlan said, indicating one of the gloveboxes.
Inside was a shallow dish of liquid with a lid on it and a metal ring connected to a wire. Dr. Taylor took a plug from underneath the enclosure and inserted it into a socket on the wall.
“So what am I looking at, Doc?”
“This is Leonard Burnham’s obsession,” he said. “It’s a special kind of polymer, one Leonard invented himself.”
“So what is a polymer, Dr. Taylor?” Alex asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“Few people have,” he admitted. “A polymer is a special kind of molecule. While molecules make up everything, they usually bond together to form other compounds. A polymer is a molecule that bonds to itself in an organized structure, like a long chain.”
“Okay, so what?” Alex said, not understanding why that mattered.
“It means that instead of taking something in nature and shaping it to be what we want, we can just build what we want in the first place. Just imagine if we could make cables that were thinner and lighter than steel but just as strong. Or silk stockings that would never wear out.”
Alex nodded as if he understood. He wasn’t really sure he did, but he knew what Leslie and Jessica would think of stockings that never needed replacing. If Burnham or Taylor cracked that, they’d make millions upon millions.
Harlan flipped a switch on the base of the container and something inside began to hum.
“Normal polymers have to be created under very specific conditions in a lab.” He shoved his hands into the rubber gloves and then removed the lid covering the dish of liquid. “What Leonard did was to figure out a way to literally grow polymers in any shape you need. Watch.”
Harlan picked up the metal ring connected to the wire and dropped it into the liquid in the dish. Almost immediately a cloudy substance began to form on the surface.
“What’s that?” Alex asked.
Harlan didn’t answer but instead picked up a small screwdriver next to the dish. He dipped it into the cloudy liquid and then lifted it free. As it came up, a thin fabric clung to it, rising up out of what had once been pure liquid.
“That is fabric made of a polymer,” Harlan said. “Leonard dreamed that up. Just imagine the possibilities.” His voice was reverent and awed. “Instead of wearing bulky parachutes, pilots could carry a tiny vial of the liquid and a battery. If they had to jump out of their plane, they could literally grow a parachute on the way down.”
As he spoke, Harlan lifted the fabric higher and higher out of the liquid. It was at least a foot long already and showed no signs of weakening or tearing. Alex wasn’t sure he wanted to trust his life to a parachute made of this stuff, but it was impressive.
“So why aren’t you making socks that never get holes out of this stuff, or instant handkerchiefs, or something?” Alex asked.
Dr. Taylor’s smile of excitement turned melancholy and he set the fabric down across the bottom of the container.
“It’s the electricity that keeps the molecules together,” he said, withdrawing his hands from the gloves.
“So if you turn off the juice, it goes back to being a liquid?” Alex guessed.
“Worse, I’m afraid,” Harlan said, reaching for the switch on the bottom of the container. He flipped it with a clack and the box stopped humming. Alex watched the fabric, expecting it to melt back to the sludge from whence it had come, but nothing happened.
“I thought you said—” he began, but at that moment the fabric exploded into flame. The box was completely enclosed in glass, but Alex could feel the heat from the conflagration. As quickly as it had happened, the fire burned away, only a bit slower than Alex’s flash paper.
“What just happened?” he asked.
“This particular polymer is unstable in solid form,” Harlan explained. “As long as it’s exposed to an electrical current, it stays together, but as soon as that current is cut off,” he motioned upward with his fingers. “Whoosh,” he said. “The fire burns so hot that it would set anything flammable on fire. You can see why we don’t make things out of this.”
“And this is what Dr. Burnham was working on in his garage?” Alex said, stunned by the thought of it. He’d felt the heat through the thick glass, and there wasn’t any safety container like this one at Burnham’s workshop. “It’s a miracle he didn’t burn it to the ground.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Harlan said, running his hand over the glass of the cabinet. “Leonard was always bothered by this. He wanted to solve it so badly, to make it work. In truth, we all did.”
“Can you think of any reason he’d want to sell this idea to the Navy?”
“I can think of a dozen,” Harlan said. “but he’d have to solve the instability issue first.”
“What if he’s using it as some new kind of explosive?” Alex asked.
“No.” Harlan shook his head. “This burns very hot, but there are much more efficient ways to blow something up. If Leonard was going to use this, he’d have to start by making it stable.”
Alex looked at the empty case as if willing it to reveal its secrets, to tell him what Dr. Burnham was doing with exploding fabric and why the Navy would care.
“I remember the first time Leonard showed this to me,” Harlan went on, oblivious to Alex’s consternation. “He’d used a conductive mesh over a hot plate that vaporized the Genesis Water—”
“The what?”
Harlan looked irritated at having his story interrupted, then realized why Alex had asked the question.
“Leonard always had a flair for the dramatic,” he said. “He called his liquid Genesis Water, since anything could be created from it. Anyway, when the vaporized water hit t
he mesh, it made tiny strands. They sprung up like a moving picture of hair growing. Leonard claimed that once we braided them together, they would replace rope, maybe even steel. Of course right after that, he almost burned down the lab.”
Alex looked at the glass container again. The metal probe that had conveyed the current was blackened and scorched where the conflagration had burned it. Chills ran down his spine as he realized the very real danger of Dr. Burnham’s invention.
“Can I use your phone?” he asked.
18
The Bad News
Alex dialed Sorsha’s number from the phone in Harlan’s office without having to look at her card. He expected her secretary, but got the woman herself.
“Where are you?” she demanded, her voice going frosty when she heard his voice. “I called your house this morning and that duplicitous doctor told me you’d gone to your office. When I called your office, your useless secretary told me you were still at home.”
Alex chuckled.
“Sounds like she’s not so useless after all,” he said.
“You’d better be calling me to report that you’ve found whatever magic is crippling my city,” she said in a voice that hinted at what would happen to him if he wasn’t.
“Nope,” he said in the most innocently cheerful voice he could muster.
“Where are you?” she breathed, her voice barely audible.
“The midtown office of Dow Chemical,” he said without hesitation.
There was a short pause, during which Alex would have sworn he heard the sound of glass breaking.
“So,” she said at last, her voice tight and even. “After my bailing you out with the Navy and giving you strict instructions to find out where this damned fog is coming from, you decided to keep investigating the no-longer-missing chemist?”
“Well,” Alex hedged. “Not exactly.”
“You stay right there,” she said. “I’m coming over to break your fingers. Remind me which hand you write with.”
“Before you do anything rash,” Alex said, grinning at the thought of how angry she sounded, “you might want to hear what I found out.”
She made a noise that sounded somewhere between a growl and a curse. Alex knew he really shouldn’t antagonize her, but he just couldn’t help himself. She made it so easy.
“I know who’s making the fog and I may have a way to find where it’s coming from,” he said, deciding he’d better speak before the sorceress regained her voice.
“How,” she growled. “How do you know who but not know where?”
“That’s a long story. You’d better get over here quick and I’ll show you.”
Alex hung up before she could respond and then dialed Iggy.
“Any luck figuring out how to boost the purity rune?” he asked.
“No,” Iggy admitted. “But I think I can make the finding rune function like a purity rune. It turned out to be much simpler than I thought. Once I—”
“Great,” Alex cut him off. “So if I had a sample of some unique material, could the rune find out where more of it might be located?”
“That’s exactly how it would work,” Iggy said.
“Perfect. How fast can you get to the Dow Chemical building in Midtown?”
Iggy laughed at that.
“I’d have to write the rune first,” he said. “Right now, it’s just an idea, and if you want to use it today, I’d better get started figuring out how to make the construct. I’m sorry, lad, but you’ll have to come by here and pick it up later.”
Alex wasn’t thrilled to hear that, especially since he’d antagonized Sorsha so much. He’d hoped to be able to lead her right to the source of the fog without any additional delay.
“All right,” he said. “You get busy, I’ll get everything else ready.”
Iggy promised to hurry and hung up. Alex checked his watch. He guessed it would take Sorsha a good half hour to arrive, even with her floater, longer if she took the time to round up her FBI lackeys. He picked up the receiver and dialed the phone again, this time to the Central Office of Police.
“Callahan,” the Lieutenant’s voice greeted him once the police operator had transferred Alex’s call.
“It’s Alex,” he replied. “Did you have any luck chasing down Jimmy the Weasel at the Blue Room?”
To his credit, Callahan didn’t ask how Alex knew about Jimmy working there.
“Only that he didn’t show up for work last night,” he answered. “No surprise there. What have you found?”
“Nothing yet,” he said. “The FBI’s got me running errands for them, but with any luck I should have something for you this afternoon.”
“Listen to me, Lockerby,” the Lieutenant growled. “I know better than to tell you to drop this, but three people are already dead. If you find anything, and I mean anything, you bring it to me, understand?”
Alex understood and he said so. This case was way too personal for him and when things got personal, people made mistakes.
“Nobody thinks you were out of line, killing those men,” Callahan went on. “‘But if bodies start piling up, the Chief is going to want someone to blame. You got me?”
“I get it, Lieutenant,” Alex said. “You’ll be my first call.”
Callahan hung up and Alex sat on Harlan’s desk, looking at the phone receiver. He wanted to put it down and head straight over to Dr. Kellin’s shop, Sorsha and her fog be damned. With a sigh, he put the receiver back in its cradle. The Ice Queen was already mad at him; if he left her hanging, she might just decide to make an example out of him. A warning to other presumptuous PIs.
“All right, Mr. Lockerby,” Harlan Taylor said, coming into his office from the hall. “I got the equipment together like you asked, but I’m a bit concerned. You saw what happened to the fabric.”
“Trust me, Doc,” Alex said. “It’ll be fine.”
Harlan looked uncertain.
“I don’t like doing things in the lab that I know to be unsafe.”
“Lockerby!” Sorsha’s voice rang out from the front of the building. “Where are you?”
The only way she could have arrived already was if she had teleported, something Alex knew she didn’t like. He must have seriously underestimated how angry she was with him.
“What on earth?” Harlan said, shock giving way to anger in his face.
“Easy, Doc,” Alex said, putting a restraining hand on the wiry man’s arm. “It’s about to get a lot more dangerous in here, so just smile and play along.”
The door at the end of the hallway burst open, and Sorsha stormed through. Her short, platinum hair bounced with the rhythm of her steps and the heels of her pumps clacked on the concrete floor. Behind her came Agent Redhorn and Agent Mendes, both looking a bit green around the gills.
Alex smiled at that. The effects of teleportation were funny when he wasn’t the one suffering them.
“Who are they?” Harlan muttered as Sorsha approached with all the energy of a runaway train.
“There you are,” Sorsha snapped before Alex could respond. She seemed about to give Alex a piece of her mind, but with Dr. Taylor there, she thought better of it. “Explain yourself,” she managed, clenching her fists so tightly her knuckles went white.
“Doctor Harlan Taylor,” he said, pointing to Sorsha. “This is Miss Sorsha Kincaid, sorceress and a consultant to the FBI. Those two,” he indicated Redhorn and Mendes, “are Agents with the Bureau. Miss Kincaid, this is Doctor Taylor, head of research and development at this facility.”
A shocked look played across Harlan’s face, but he recovered quickly and stuck out his hand.
“A great pleasure, Miss Kincaid,” he said.
Sorsha almost didn’t take his hand, but she seemed to remember at whom she was actually mad. After a long second of hesitation, she shook the man’s hand.
“Now,” she said, turning to Alex. “Why, exactly am I here?”
“Until about a year ago, this is where Dr. Burnham worked,” Ale
x explained.
Sorsha’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“I know that,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Yes, but you don’t know what he was working on in the days leading up to his retirement.”
“How is that relevant?”
Alex indicated Harlan.
“Dr. Taylor showed me Dr. Burnham’s pet project,” he said. “It was very enlightening.”
Sorsha shifted her gaze to Harlan and raised one of her eyebrows.
“Uh,” he stammered. “I’m not sure what Mr. Lockerby is talking about. Dr. Burnham’s polymer experiments were a failure.”
The sorceress looked back to Alex and he smiled easily.
“Trust me, Doc,” he said to Harlan. “Miss Kincaid will be very excited to see what Dr. Burnham was working on.”
Harlan shrugged and pointed toward the back room.
“If you say so. It’s right through here.”
He turned and started forward, but Alex didn’t follow. He suddenly couldn’t move at all.
“You seem to take a perverse delight in annoying me, Alex,” Sorsha said under her breath. She moved in front of him and he could see her pale blue eyes literally glowing. “If you’re wasting my time here, I assure you that I will take great pleasure in making you suffer for your attitude.”
She waved her hand and her eyes stopped glowing. A moment later Alex staggered forward, gasping for breath. He hadn’t realized that the magic she’d used on him had stopped his breathing as well. Sorsha had done this to him once before, and he shivered at the memory.
Sorsha swept past him as Alex took a few deep breaths. Redhorn passed him with an amused look on his face, followed by Mendes, who ignored him. Once Alex was sure his heart rate had returned to normal and his face wasn’t flushed, he went through the double doors into the large workroom.
Harlan had some of his people clear out a space in the center of the room and had placed a metal pan on top of a metal lab stool there. A heavy electric wire ran to a heating element in the bottom of the pan, and a second wire connected to a metal plate that was held over the pan by a wire stand.
