White Collar, Green Flame - A Technothriller

by Shain Carter

  "What kind of person does he seem like to you? I’ll tell you what he seems like to me. A spoiled brat of a man who’s used to buying whatever he wants, whether it’s a rare fossil, an Airbus 319 or a bunch of lackey scientists. I certainly wouldn’t put a bit of sadism past him."

  "Maybe.” Meredith was not yet ready to accept the possibility. “Let’s hear your other idea."

  "O. K., it starts with the premise that Becker isn't totally stable. People who inherit a lot of money often have a big chip on their shoulder about it. They go through life feeling like they have to justify getting just handed all this money - like they need to prove that they're worthy of it. Becker seems to fit that mold. He's constantly doing something to save the world - hugging trees, shutting down nuclear power plants, sinking whaling boats. George comes along with this crazy story about alien dinosaurs and Becker buys it hook, line and sinker. He really believes there are dinosaurs out there waiting to make contact with him. And if there are, then he’ll do whatever he can to make it happen. He’s no longer just saving the world - now he’s pushing it ahead. He’s propelling mankind to the next level. There’ll be a statue of Derek in every park in every town around the world."

  “And what does George get out of this? What’s his angle?”

  “Cash, and lots of it, I’m guessing. Becker is giving a million dollars to my university as compensation for my time. He’s probably doing the same for yours and Ted’s. Imagine what he must be shelling out to George for this set-up. Millions? Tens of millions? Who knows. And for George it’s easy money. He takes charge of some abandoned research facility, hires a group of guys with guns for the summer and cleans up like a bandit. And the longer we’re here, the more money he makes.”

  Meredith thought this through for a moment. “So George slows the work down. Corrupting Alec’s computer keeps us here another week. I guess all the puzzle pieces fit, but it still seems like a long shot.”

  “Almost all the puzzle pieces,” Dawson answered. “There’s one more piece, and I can’t figure out how it fits. Where has Burt been driven to in a car?”

  “Driven to?” Meredith asked. “I don’t think he’s been driven anywhere. In fact, I can’t think of a single time he’s even been in a car. He was in one of the trucks on the way here, and we’ve all always walked between the dorm and Building 12. He hasn’t been out to the machine shop. What makes you think he’s been driven somewhere?”

  “The memory stick,” Dawson replied. “The one I found in the car on our trip to the machine shop. Burt said it was his, but if it is, how did it get there? Where was he going when he lost it, and why was he carrying it with him? Knowing what I know now, I should have plugged it into my laptop and seen what was on it.”

  “Anyway,” Dawson continued. “I came up with two workable scenarios to explain why we’re here. Do you have any?”

  Meredith was ready with her answer. “Yes, just one. That there really are dinosaurs - or something - out there. That they’re trying to make contact with us. That’s not any less farfetched than your theories.”

  “We’ll find out tomorrow. I found an old electron microscope in Building 12 when we first got here. It’s in bad shape, but I think I can get it working. When I do, I’m going to take a closer look at that fossil of Derek’s. He brought it with him, and I’m having Andy bring it to me in the morning, after his Dad leaves for the war room. Maybe by then Ted will have our location pinpointed.”

  ”And if it’s south-east Turkey, like Derek says it is?”

  “Then our craft intercepts the messenger probe and we all become rich and famous."

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Dawson got to back his room he took a long drink from the bottle he kept in his dresser, then turned on his alarm and crawled into bed. He lay on his back wondering about their situation. Meredith had a point - Derek’s dinosaur theory seemed no more unlikely than even the most rational of his own scenarios. Dawson had gone over Derek’s evidence in his mind often enough to know that there were no obvious flaws in any of it, excepting out-and-out fraud. And deep down, Dawson hoped Derek was right. The thought of Alec’s rocket taking off on a plume of green fire excited him more than he cared to admit.

  It seemed as if no time had passed before the alarm sounded. Dawson shut it off, then lay in bed. He didn’t realize he had drifted back to sleep until he was jarred awake by the sound of his doorknob rattling. It was followed by stifled giggles. Jones looked at his clock. It was already 6:30, and he knew he had to get going, but he was too tired to move.

  The doorknob rattled again, then he heard the latch click.

  “Shhhhh - be more quite!”

  It was Andy’s voice, and he was whispering, Dawson was sure, to Cindy. They walked up to his bed, still giggling, and Andy began shaking gently shaking Dawson’s shoulder.

  “C’mon, get up Professor,” he said. Dawson didn’t move. Cindy started shaking him, too. After a few seconds she turned to Andy. “I don’t get it,” she said. ”I thought old geezers needed less sleep.”

  Dawson shot up in bed, arms raised, fists clinched and teeth bared. Andy screamed, and both kids jumped back, their eyes opened wide like saucers. Dawson pretended to look around.

  “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, rubbing his face with shaking hands. “You kids ought to know better than to surprise an ex-commando like that. It could get you hurt.”

  Cindy stepped next to the bed and looked Jones in the eye. “You’re no ex-commando,” she declared.

  Jones smiled. “I never said I was,” he said. “I was just giving you some good advice you might find useful later in life. And speaking of later in life, I am not, for your information, an old geezer.”

  Cindy turned to Andy and whispered loudly, “I thought old geezers couldn’t hear well, either.”

  Andy howled. Jones jerked his arm up, as if to strike out, but then scratched his head. Cindy jumped back squealing.

  “Aww, c’mon, Professor, let’s do something,” Andy said, tugging Jones arm. “The day’s just beginning and we’re already bored. Besides, I got you this.”

  Andy disappeared into the hall and emerged a second later, struggling with Derek’s prized fossil. He half carried, half dragged it to Dawson.

  “Very good,” Dawson told him. “Your Dad didn’t see you take it, did he?”

  Andy shook his head. “He already left for the other building.”

  “That’s good,” Dawson said, “because I’m working on a surprise for him. I want you to both keep this a secret, OK?”

  Dawson looked seriously at the kids, and they nodded their heads.

  “O. K., now I need to get dressed and eat. I’ll be in the lab in around three-quarters of an hour, if you’re still looking for something to do.”

  The kids raced out of the room. Using a nail file, Dawson carefully scraped a small amount of material from the white collar. He collected it in a glass vial that he had brought with him from the lab the day before, then pushed Derek’s fossil under his bed. He studied the off-white powder for a minute, rolling the vial back and forth in his fingers. Satisfied, he pulled a bottle of alcohol from the dresser, took a quick drink and changed into his clothes. Once dressed, he paused long enough to look at his profile in the full-length mirror on his closet door. He was in pretty good shape, he thought. “You’re not an ex-commando,” he said to his mirror image, bobbing his head and mocking Cindy’s voice.

  “I never said you were.”

  Dawson turned to find Meredith walking through the still open door, grinning broadly. He felt his ears turn red. “Well, I could have been a commando if I wanted to,” he said defensively, and they both laughed.

  “Any news from Ted?” Dawson asked.

  Meredith shrugged. “I just got up myself.”

  They found Ted in the cafeteria downstairs, nursing a cup of strong coffee.

  “See any flares this morning?” Meredith asked quietly, sitting next to him.

  “One,” he said, “but it
wasn’t nearly as spectacular as yours last night. I’ve also had a chance to go over the data, but it’s not conclusive.”

  “Not conclusive? Why not?” Dawson asked. “I thought you said you could get us ten mile accuracy from just two flares.”

  “I got one group of coordinates from the first flare and a completely different group from the second. No positions in common. I think my orbital elements must be out of date.”

  Dawson and Meredith exchanged confused glances.

  “Orbital elements,” Ted repeated. “They’re the values that I use in the equations that calculate where each satellite is at any given time - like last night at ten-thirteen and seventeen seconds. I plug the time and orbital elements into my equation, and I get the location of the satellite flares. The trouble is, orbital elements are good only as long as nothing changes the speed or direction of the satellites. Unfortunately for us, ground controllers occasionally fire onboard rockets to make slight course corrections or to re-align the satellites. Every time they do this, the orbital elements change. My elements are months old, since I last updated them in Hawaii.”

  “Meaning we stayed up late last night for nothing?” Meredith asked.

  “No, no,” Ted said quickly. “The observational data is still good. All it means is that I need to get a new set of orbital elements. Normally, I could get them very easily - updated elements are always posted on the Internet. Here, though, we don’t have access to the Internet.”

  Meredith frowned. “So you can’t get them, then?”

  “I can, but not until this afternoon.”

  “Why the delay?”

  Ted explained his plan to get the elements. He could access the Internet with the modem in his laptop - but that would require a phone line. The only phone on site was in George’s room, and he had never before let any of them, except Derek, use it. Ted told George that it was his wife’s birthday and asked if he could call her. George agreed, and showed him how to dial out to Hawaii. Ted then asked George for some privacy, and George reluctantly went into the hall.

  “Didn’t he ask why you took your laptop with you?” Meredith asked.

  Ted grinned. “Sure he asked, and I told him I take it everywhere with me, just like he told us to.

  ”I hooked up the modem and dialed my internet service provider back home. I was worried about the quality of the connection, especially after what George told us on the plane, but it turned out it was crystal clear. I figured George might be listening in, so I pretended to leave a message on my home answering machine - ‘Happy birthday, Honey. You must be at dinner so I’ll call you later to sing to you.’ It only took me a few seconds to connect to the web site with the orbital elements. But that’s where I had the problem. The site was down for scheduled maintenance and wouldn’t be available for a few hours.”

  “What happens next?” Dawson asked.

  “I’ll call back after lunch. I figure I’ll only get one more chance to call without looking suspicious, so I want to be sure to give them plenty of time.”

  “What if George doesn’t let you call back?” Meredith asked.

  “He’s already told me it’s OK with him, although I guess he could always change his mind. It’s a risk we have to take; I don’t see any other way.”

  Dawson and Meredith agreed with Ted. The plan was riskier than Dawson would have liked, but it was the best they could hope for. Ted’s efficiency and thoroughness pleased Dawson. Between Ted’s calculations and his own microscopic examination of the white collar, they would know in a few short hours whether Becker’s program was legitimate.

  Chapter Eighteen

  On arriving back in the lab, Dawson took a quick swallow of alcohol, then stared down at the vial of powder he had scraped from Derek’s fossil. The kids were not in the lab waiting when he arrived, and he figured they had come up with something better to do. That was fine with Dawson, since he had no idea how long it would take to get the electron microscope working, and he wanted to work on it without distractions. He took another drink, then walked down to the lab with the microscope. Just as he got to the door, Andy and Cindy appeared from the stairwell.

  “Wat'cha doing, Professor?” Cindy asked.

  “Yeah,” said Andy. “Anything fun?”

  “Maybe,” replied Dawson. “You’re free to watch, if you want.”

  The three of them entered the other lab and Dawson stepped over to the microscope. He quickly surveyed outside of it. Like all electron microscopes, it consisted of two separate parts: a sample chamber, and the electronics that worked the instrument. The sample chamber was simply an air-tight, stainless steel cylinder that sat on top of a sturdy console. Samples were admitted into the chamber through the attached glove box. The electronics were housed in the console itself, which resembled a heavy desk. But instead of drawers, the front of the console had panels that covered the electronic components. A keyboard and monitor screen were integrated into the desktop, as was a jumble of knobs, dials, switches, gauges and indicator lights.

  Overall, the machine seemed to be in good shape. It was covered in dust, but from the outside nothing was obviously broken or missing. The sample would have to be admitted through the attached glove box, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Dawson would just shuttle it through the antechamber and box interior, then into the microscope sample chamber itself.

  As Dawson was looking over the microscope the kids peppered him with questions about it. Dawson explained to them that an electron microscope operates along the same general principles as a movie projector. In a movie projector, a beam of white light passes through a small piece of film onto which a picture has been imprinted. The light interacts with the picture; some colors are adsorbed by the film, other colors pass through unchanged. The altered light is then spread out by a glass lens. Finally, the spread-out light strikes a screen at the other end of the theater, giving a magnified image of the picture on the film.

  By contrast, an electron microscope uses a narrow, intense beam of electrons in place of the beam of white light. Like the light in a projector, the electrons in the beam interact with the object being scanned, and then the beam is spread out. In the electron microscope, an electric field, rather than a glass lens, is used to spread it. Finally, the electrons strike a fluorescent screen, generating a greatly magnified image of the original specimen.

  There are several advantages to using electron beams, rather than light beams, in a microscope. The most important is that electron beams can be spread out to a much greater extent than light. At a movie theater, a half inch image on film might be increased to twenty feet on the screen, which is a magnification of about five hundred. By contrast, an electron microscope can magnify images by a factor of a million or more. This increased magnification is possible because it is easier to spread out electron beams with an electric field than it is to spread out light with a glass lens. This allows the electron microscope to resolve features that are much smaller than those that can be seen in a light microscope.

  Dawson knew that the high resolving power was essential if he was to have any hope of proving one way or the other whether the fossil was authentic. However, for all the advantages that electron microscopes have over optical microscopes, there is a one distinct disadvantage - and it was this disadvantage that worried Dawson as he examined the microscope. Electron beams cannot travel through air in the same way that light beams cannot penetrate dense smoke. This means that the sample chamber must be held under high vacuum. As Dawson looked under the microscope console, he saw a bad sign: a large pool of pump oil, its top surface filthy with dust that had collected over a long period of time. The pump had clearly been damaged during the earthquake and was never repaired.

  Jones sighed loudly. He crawled closer and pulled the pump out into the open. What he saw was even less encouraging. The motor shaft was bent, the seal between it and the pump interior broken. It would be impossible to fix the damage; he would need another pump.

  His first thought was
to use the pump on the glove box antechamber a few feet away. He walked around to it, only to find that it was missing. That left only one other pump he could use: the pump from his own glove box.

  It took him ten minutes to disconnect his pump and drag it down the hall, and another five to plumb it into the electron microscope vacuum system. Meredith helped him with the latter job. She had heard scraping sounds from her office as Dawson pulled the pump down the hall, and had come up to warn him about the noise. With the kids looking on, they were able to attach the working pump to the microscope.

  With the system finally put together, Dawson carefully retrieved a single fleck of white powder from his vial and placed it on a microscope grid. He passed the grid through the open doors of the glove box antechamber, then on in to the sample port of the microscope itself. He pulled the port door closed and sealed it tightly.

  The sample in place, Dawson sat at microscope control panel and studied it thoughtfully. The buttons, dials and meters were labeled with Cyrillic lettering, but he was able to guess the function of most of them based on their placement on the panel. After a moment he reached out and flipped a chrome switch. The vacuum pump roared to life and needles on two gauges began to jump. At the same time, a small monitor in the center of the panel powered on, faintly glowing iridescent green. Dawson leaned back in his chair.

  “Now what?” Meredith asked.

  “We wait a few minutes. The sample chamber evacuates in two steps. First, the pump we just installed creates a moderate vacuum, pulling the pressure down to about one-thousandths of atmospheric pressure. Then a turbo pump takes out the remaining gasses, if it’s still working. That’s when we can turn on the electron beam and take a closer look at the sample of material from the collar.”

  They sat in silence for five minutes. At last a lighted button on the panel began to blink. Dawson pushed it and immediately a soft whir came from deep within the microscope. It began low, then increased in pitch.