“Yes, that is a real conundrum, detective,” Krabbi said.
“I hate to disrupt Genevive’s cozy relationship with DARPA, but Agent Coulter—Miss Andrews’ fiancé—has visited this house many times in the past.
Halliday had opened Agent Coulter’s deep wound. He prepared for an assault as he said, “We investigated this house yesterday. Basements are rare in this county, so I found this one by sheer luck. Who else knew?” His turned to the DARPA agent. “No one, except Agent Coulter, I suspect.”
Coulter leaned in and said, “You’re full of shit, Halliday.”
Halliday shuddered at Dr. Krabbi’s dark, Juju eyeballs. “If DARPA had the key to your experiments—actual specimens—then what do they need Genevive Labs for? DARPA has all the resources and funds in the world. My guess is whatever animal they kept in this basement is on its way to DARPA. Don’t they have a secret lab in Blacksburg, Virginia?”
Krabbi’s eyes widened. He gave a short gasp.
Halliday added, “You lose any of your scientists lately?”
“Why, yes. Last week.”
Halliday had struck a nerve. “Someone left a creature hanging in the guesthouse doorway yesterday. They planned to scare the hell out of Jillian. Since that’s not necessary anymore, you want to hazard a guess as to where it went?”
“Doc, this is nonsense,” Coulter said. He turned to Krabbi. “He’s trying to divide us. Why would I bring you here if we were stealing your research? It doesn’t add up.”
“I know,” Krabbi said. “Detective Halliday is a clever man. I wish he worked for us. Instead we’re saddled with that incompetent security buffoon, Altman.”
Halliday shook his head.
“I must look at the situation here from a scientific point of view,” Krabbi said. “The possibility of a stolen lab specimen has been addressed in our security protocols. However, something so large that would leave an odor boggles the mind.”
The doctor lowered his head, as if conferring with the god of the trolls. He performed a few sniffs. Then he looked up and said, “I can only conclude that an animal of some species has been lying on this couch. Our experiments have been controlled. Therefore, the animal has the attributes of our experiments. However, it has flourished outside the realm of Genevive Labs.” The doctor paused before he reached a conclusion. “Yes, it’s either a third party experimenter… or… my God, a natural occurrence.”
The doctor, crushed by his own deduction, lowered his head.
Halliday had to say it. “You don’t see too many animals lounging on couches. Perhaps a large dog. A Saint Bernard or something.”
“Dr. Krabbi, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Coulter said. “There must be an explanation. The fact that Detective Halliday is sitting here tells me he must know something.”
Dr. Krabbi’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, what are you doing here detective?”
Halliday nodded at Coulter and said, “We can’t find the source of the ammunition for the shotgun that murdered Jillian Andrews.”
“I thought they declared her death a suicide,” Krabbi said to the DARPA agent.
“Coulter, why don’t you tell the doctor how you romanced Jillian, got her pregnant, then shoved the barrel of a shotgun down her throat before you pulled the trigger.”
“Halliday, you sonofabitch.”
When the athletic Coulter rushed him, Halliday attempted to roll to one side. Striking too late, the agent smacked him beside the head. Halliday fell to the floor, his ears ringing.
Krabbi cried, “Agent Coulter, stop. We’re not finished with the detective.”
“I didn’t kill Jillian,” Coulter said. “I’d never hurt her.”
Halliday read anguish in the agent’s face. Krabbi stepped between them. Halliday pulled up on the arm, rolling onto the sofa. The glancing blow hadn’t been severe.
When the air settled, Dr. Krabbi clasped his hands and said, “Now, Detective Halliday, tell me what you know about the work we are performing in building C14.”
“Doc, he’ll make up lies,” Coulter said.
The doctor brought his hands up while nodding. “Go ahead, detective.”
Halliday didn’t have a lot to lose. “When I found Lamar Festus a few days ago he talked about your experiments. Festus, a learned man like you, appreciated science. He told me that he had discovered secrets.”
Coulter cringed. The doctor said, “Ah yes, Lamar Festus, our poster boy.”
Halliday didn’t know what the mad doctor meant. He decided to roll the dice. “Festus mentioned your current project involving animal experiments. What did he call it? Project… ”
“Project ASCENT,” Krabbi blurted out, much to Coulter’s distain.
“Yes, Project ASCENT, that’s it. I saw fear in Lamar’s eyes when he spoke of it. He mentioned luminous green animals that glowed in the dark.”
“That’s confidential information,” Coulter’s alarmed voice cried out.
“Ah, Gennie One-Seven,” Dr. Krabbi said as if remembering an old girlfriend.
“Gennie One-Seven?” Halliday said.
Coulter shook his head. “Dr. Krabbi, must I remind you that this is a violation of Genevive Labs’ security protocols? This man is a civilian, for god sakes.”
Krabbi’s insane smile answered Coulter.
The DARPA agent added, “Do your experiments, then we return to the campus.”
Halliday figured there had been a rift already in place between Dr. Krabbi’s scientists and DARPA. It surfaced in the look of consternation that crossed the doctor’s face.
Krabbi said, “I am aware of Detective Halliday’s background: several years at the State Department with a top secret clearance. He’s much more qualified than those security hooligans at Genevive.”
Halliday debated whether the doctor had helped him out or put his life in more jeopardy. It must have kept Palmier and DARPA busy policing Dr. Krabbi’s faux pas. Could it be that the man knew so much that they were afraid of him?
“Let me explain, Detective Halliday,” Dr. Krabbi said, his eyes penned on a spider web in the ceiling.
Halliday waited while the little man rubbed his hands together. He imagined Krabbi sitting at an Eastern European bar with fellow trolls hatching a plan to lower the bar stool heights a foot or about thirty centimeters.
“Project ASCENT was, shall we say, born out of wedlock.”
Krabbi’s excitement caused the little man to wipe spittle from his mouth again. “You see, we married nanotechnology with molecular computing. The offspring, a cure for prostate cancer, thrilled us. Afterwards, when I duplicated my findings… I made an error.”
Go sit in the corner, Dr. Krabbi.
“The error occurred in the lab upon conversion of the bio molecule, the ATP or Adenosine-5’-triphosphate,” Krabbi said. “I had created a miracle without knowing it. Instead of using my formula, I added the byproducts of a previous experiment by accident.”
The spooky doctor went on to espouse a lot of techno mumbo-jumbo that he didn’t understand. Coulter made a steeple with his hands and pressed it against his forehead. It surprised Halliday that Coulter let the doctor continue his spiel. Maybe he figured if Halliday knew too much they’d have an excuse to dispose of him.
“The chemiluminescent process and the subsequent generation of electromagnetic radiation is the key to the translucent state. I’m not speaking of the visible light range. The infrared spectrum, above the terahertz range offers infinite possibilities, including… invisibility.”
The doctor offered him “welcome to the club” exuberance. “We killed two birds with one stone. We found a cure for prostate cancer. More importantly, we opened the door to a whole new area of science. Although invisibility is many years down the road, human stealth technology will soon be possible.”
Halliday needed to know how far along they were. “Gennie? You’ve experimented with humans?”
“No, no, detective,” Dr. Krabbi said, like the kindergarten teacher correcting a
five year old. “Gennie is a cow. We’re five to ten years away from cloaking humans.”
“What, you’re planning to create an army of invisible soldiers? Is that the grand plan? Wouldn’t the enemy spray the invisible troops with powder or something to reveal them? I’ve seen the movies.”
“No, it’s much more subtle. You would appreciate it, Detective Halliday.”
The doctor had to pause to wipe away spittle running into his beard.
“You see, they will be trained government agents. Spies who—”
“That’s enough,” Coulter said in a raised voice. “Why the fuck are you telling him all this for?”
The doctor lifted cartoon eyes. “I tell all my—”
“Doc-tor Krab-bi,” Coulter said in a voice as coarse as sandpaper. “No more.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to finish up here.”
He had already been signed up for Lab 101 instead of a hoped for confrontation. The two men stared at each other until Krabbi raised his eyebrows. He sucked his cheek in. “Yes, we have investigative work to perform.”
Halliday wouldn’t let them have the final word. “Why are you abducting all the vagrants?”
The doctor’s apologetic shrug preceded his words, “Humans make for more exacting experimental results.”
Halliday couldn’t read Krabbi insane expression. He waited for Coulter’s response.
No words escapes through the NSA agent’s open mouth. His eerie stare made Halliday cringe.
“This has gone too fucking far,” Coulter said, punching numbers on his phone. The irate agent kicked the sofa table to the other side of the room. He rushed toward the stairs barking into his phone, “Brad, we have a security breach. You’d better assemble the group in building B1 conference room after lunch.” He paused. “Yeah, I’m having our lab people confirm it.” Another pause. “I’ll take the detective to see Altman at the security annex.”
Coulter ran up to the top of the stairs. He called out through the opening, “You lab rats can come down now.”
A group of white-smocked technicians toting various scientific instruments hurried down. Halliday moved away from the couch as the group began their work.
“Halliday, come up here where I can keep an eye on you.”
Could the results of the lab tests on the couch lead the Genevive scientists to Laurel? How ironic that Genevive’s brilliant scientists had missed the boat on the most important discovery in the history of mankind—Laurel’s transparency.
Chapter Forty Three
Halliday watched Coulter smack the government sedan’s dashboard. The agent cursed the convoy of protestors. Their vehicles plodded along Genevive Parkway, taking up both lanes, making it impossible for vehicles to pass.
“Did any of your superiors at DARPA ever recommend anger management classes, Coulter?”
“Up yours, Halliday.”
Dr. Krabbi sat in the backseat beside Halliday with Coulter’s SIG P229 pointed at him beneath a newspaper. Coulter had forgotten to bring cuffs or plastic ties. Another security ding for the DARPA agent unable to control his emotions.
Coulter’s reaction to Halliday’s accusation of murdering Jillian Andrews exposed the agent’s weakness. He believed the man to be innocent of murder. Coulter may have lured Jillian per orders from the higher ups. Coulter must have developed an affection for her. Jillian’s death had devastated him.
“Is our security force prepared for this demonstration?” Dr. Krabbi said.
Halliday caught the surprise in Krabbi’s voice at the size of the large fleet of vehicles. The parade of demonstrators heading to Genevive Labs would far exceed expectations. The chief had mentioned up to two or three hundred demonstrators. Halliday believed two or three times that to be a more realistic number based on the traffic he had seen.
Coulter caught his eyes in the rear view mirror. “You’re awful quiet all of a sudden detective.”
“Just enjoying the parade.”
“Altman brought in more manpower,” Coulter said in Krabbi’s direction. “In case things get out of hand.” He glanced at Halliday again in the rear view mirror. “Chief Brayden authorized a squad of motorcycle cops to support us.”
“This crowd is worse than I imagined,” Dr. Krabbi said. “The media will be there, too. They have talent for inciting trouble.”
“It’s not too far now,” Coulter said. “Once you’re in your lab, you’ll be safer than the generals in the Pentagon.”
“9/11 showed us how vulnerable our structures are,” the doctor replied.
Coulter gazed into the sky through the windshield. The DARPA agent had been attempting to zigzag through the two-lane traffic. He had managed to get stuck in the right lane.
“I’ll take the security exit so we can avoid the riffraff,” the agent said.
A Ram Charger with an uplifted chassis pulled up beside Coulter. “Genevive sucks,” a longhaired kid yelled out from the driver’s seat. The kid leaned across his girlfriend. He peered down at the sedan and said, “Looky there, it’s a leprechaun.”
Coulter yelled back at the kid, “Fuck you, asshole. Move that pile of shit out of the way. This is an official government vehicle.”
“You handled that like a true professional,” Halliday said to Coulter in the mirror.
They were boxed in. An RV plodded along in front of them. On the right, a fence of pine trees wouldn’t allow for a shoulder. The kid in the Ram Charger adjusted his speed to match Coulter’s. The Ram Charger towed a flatbed trailer carrying two motorcycles. A gray plastic tarp covered a large object that hung off the rear. Halliday figured it might be one of those small tractors or a generator.
“Jesus, Coulter,” Halliday whined as well as he knew how, “didn’t DARPA teach you guys how to drive?”
“Save it for Altman, detective. He loves smart ass remarks.”
Halliday eyed the two motorcycles on the flat trailer. The Ducati dirt bikes stood upright on mounts. He had once owned a similar bike in Virginia.
Coulter, with the patience of a rabid Chihuahua, gunned the accelerator. He saw a small opening between the RV up ahead and the RAM Charger.
The kid in the RAM Charger sped up to block Coulter.
“Fucking asshole,” Coulter yelled out.
Coulter had to stand on the brakes when the RV in front of him slowed.
“Sorry, Doc. Fucking tourists.”
The little doctor, not wearing a seat belt, had rammed against the passenger seat. The gun hit the floor with a thud.
Halliday didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the handle and jerked the left rear door open.
“Halliday, what the fuck are you…?”
He hit the pavement and rolled on his side.
Luckily, the traffic crawled. The kid driving the Ram Charger swerved to avoid him. Halliday jumped to his feet. The trailer avoided sideswiping the sedan’s open door.
Halliday sprinted for the trailer. He glanced behind. Coulter had both hands glued to the steering wheel. The madness in his face worried Halliday. The government sedan sped right at him.
He dove onto the trailer and grabbed a metal collar supporting one of the bikes.
Dr. Krabbi shut the rear door before it got torn off by another vehicle. He stuck his head out, his chin resting on the window.
Coulter maneuvered to the passenger side of the Ram Charger. He had to slow because of the trailer in front. The troll gave Halliday a sinister glare then dove into the passenger seat next to Coulter.
The two men appeared to argue over Krabbi’s miscue.
Coulter jerked the steering wheel. The sedan veered into the lane directly behind the Ram Charger. He increased his speed. The crazed agent, a foot from the trailer’s bumper, shouted obscenities at Halliday. Dr. Krabbi tried to reach for the steering wheel. Coulter whacked him in the face with an elbow.
Halliday feared that Coulter had lost control. He pushed his hands out at the speeding sedan. “Slow down, Coulter,” he yelled. “It’s not worth it.”
Coulter ignored him. His own demons were pushing him to edge.
Traffic speed had picked up. Halliday wondered if the kid even knew that Coulter remained a death whisper off his rear bumper. Dr. Krabbi appeared to be reaching into the back for the gun on the floor.
Nothing swayed Coulter.
The kid in the Ram Charger inexplicably jammed on the brakes.
Halliday saw the terror in Coulter’s eyes.
He heard a loud thunder clap as he catapulted off the flat bed. He went airborne and slammed into black tarmac. Everything went blank.
When he regained consciousness Halliday found himself sprawled out on the road. He shook the cob webs off. His head ached more than ever.
Whatever had been transported on the rear of the Ram Charger had sprung loose from its mounts. It now sat on the sedan’s hood.
The kid stood over him. “Are you all right, mister?”
He came out of his stupor. If he had sustained major injuries he didn’t know it. “Do you have a phone?”
“Yeah,” the kid said. “It’s in the truck.”
By now a small crowd had formed around them. “Go get it,” he said.
Halliday attempted to get up. Someone in the crowd gave him a hand.
He limped over to the sedan.
The bloody mess looked manufactured, as if it had been created on a Hollywood set. A forklift sat on the hood. Its metal forks protruded downward at about a thirty degree angle. They had penetrated the windshield.
Coulter had caught the forklift’s narrow wedge at neck level. His head remained attached by stray ligaments at the top of his spinal column. The second fork had crushed Doctor Krabbi’s back. No use checking vitals. Halliday pulled Coulter’s I.D., on a chain, off the outside rearview mirror.
The crowd stood there spellbound at the horror in front of them.
The kid returned, holding out the phone with a shaky hand.
Halliday had regained his faculties. He held up his badge so everyone could see it. Then he called 911.
“This is Detective John Halliday, Santa Reina PD. There’s been a vehicular accident on the Genevive Parkway two miles west of the facility. There are two fatalities. No other injuries to report at this time. Send an ambulance. I need traffic control assistance ASAP.”
Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold Page 25
