Angels & Demons rl-1

by Dan Brown

  “It’s… floating,” he said.

  “It had better be,” Vittoria replied. “Antimatter is highly unstable. Energetically speaking, antimatter is the mirror image of matter, so the two instantly cancel each other out if they come in contact. Keeping antimatter isolated from matter is a challenge, of course, because everything on earth is made of matter. The samples have to be stored without ever touching anything at all—even air.”

  Langdon was amazed. Talk about working in a vacuum.

  “These antimatter traps?” Kohler interrupted, looking amazed as he ran a pallid finger around one’s base. “They are your father’s design?”

  “Actually,” she said, “they are mine.”

  Kohler looked up.

  Vittoria’s voice was unassuming. “My father produced the first particles of antimatter but was stymied by how to store them. I suggested these. Airtight nanocomposite shells with opposing electromagnets at each end.”

  “It seems your father’s genius has rubbed off.”

  “Not really. I borrowed the idea from nature. Portuguese man-o’-wars trap fish between their tentacles using nematocystic charges. Same principle here. Each canister has two electromagnets, one at each end. Their opposing magnetic fields intersect in the center of the canister and hold the antimatter there, suspended in midvacuum.”

  Langdon looked again at the canister. Antimatter floating in a vacuum, not touching anything at all. Kohler was right. It was genius.

  “Where’s the power source for the magnets?” Kohler asked.

  Vittoria pointed. “In the pillar beneath the trap. The canisters are screwed into a docking port that continuously recharges them so the magnets never fail.”

  “And if the field fails?”

  “The obvious. The antimatter falls out of suspension, hits the bottom of the trap, and we see an annihilation.”

  Langdon’s ears pricked up. “Annihilation?” He didn’t like the sound of it.

  Vittoria looked unconcerned. “Yes. If antimatter and matter make contact, both are destroyed instantly. Physicists call the process ‘annihilation.’ ”

  Langdon nodded. “Oh.”

  “It is nature’s simplest reaction. A particle of matter and a particle of antimatter combine to release two new particles—called photons. A photon is effectively a tiny puff of light.”

  Langdon had read about photons—light particles—the purest form of energy. He decided to refrain from asking about Captain Kirk’s use of photon torpedoes against the Klingons. “So if the antimatter falls, we see a tiny puff of light?”

  Vittoria shrugged. “Depends what you call tiny. Here, let me demonstrate.” She reached for the canister and started to unscrew it from its charging podium.

  Without warning, Kohler let out a cry of terror and lunged forward, knocking her hands away. “Vittoria! Are you insane?”

  22

  Kohler, incredibly, was standing for a moment, teetering on two withered legs. His face was white with fear. “Vittoria! You can’t remove that trap!”

  Langdon watched, bewildered by the director’s sudden panic.

  “Five hundred nanograms!” Kohler said. “If you break the magnetic field—”

  “Director,” Vittoria assured, “it’s perfectly safe. Every trap has a failsafe—a back-up battery in case it is removed from its recharger. The specimen remains suspended even if I remove the canister.”

  Kohler looked uncertain. Then, hesitantly, he settled back into his chair.

  “The batteries activate automatically,” Vittoria said, “when the trap is moved from the recharger. They work for twenty-four hours. Like a reserve tank of gas.” She turned to Langdon, as if sensing his discomfort. “Antimatter has some astonishing characteristics, Mr. Langdon, which make it quite dangerous. A ten milligram sample—the volume of a grain of sand—is hypothesized to hold as much energy as about two hundred metric tons of conventional rocket fuel.”

  Langdon’s head was spinning again.

  “It is the energy source of tomorrow. A thousand times more powerful than nuclear energy. One hundred percent efficient. No byproducts. No radiation. No pollution. A few grams could power a major city for a week.”

  Grams? Langdon stepped uneasily back from the podium.

  “Don’t worry,” Vittoria said. “These samples are minuscule fractions of a gram—millionths. Relatively harmless.” She reached for the canister again and twisted it from its docking platform.

  Kohler twitched but did not interfere. As the trap came free, there was a sharp beep, and a small LED display activated near the base of the trap. The red digits blinked, counting down from twenty-four hours.

  24:00:00…

  23:59:59…

  23:59:58…

  Langdon studied the descending counter and decided it looked unsettlingly like a time bomb.

  “The battery,” Vittoria explained, “will run for the full twenty-four hours before dying. It can be recharged by placing the trap back on the podium. It’s designed as a safety measure, but it’s also convenient for transport.”

  “Transport?” Kohler looked thunderstruck. “You take this stuff out of the lab?”

  “Of course not,” Vittoria said. “But the mobility allows us to study it.”

  Vittoria led Langdon and Kohler to the far end of the room. She pulled a curtain aside to reveal a window, beyond which was a large room. The walls, floors, and ceiling were entirely plated in steel. The room reminded Langdon of the holding tank of an oil freighter he had once taken to Papua New Guinea to study Hanta body graffiti.

  “It’s an annihilation tank,” Vittoria declared.

  Kohler looked up. “You actually observe annihilations?”

  “My father was fascinated with the physics of the Big Bang—large amounts of energy from minuscule kernels of matter.” Vittoria pulled open a steel drawer beneath the window. She placed the trap inside the drawer and closed it. Then she pulled a lever beside the drawer. A moment later, the trap appeared on the other side of the glass, rolling smoothly in a wide arc across the metal floor until it came to a stop near the center of the room.

  Vittoria gave a tight smile. “You’re about to witness your first antimatter-matter annihilation. A few millionths of a gram. A relatively minuscule specimen.”

  Langdon looked out at the antimatter trap sitting alone on the floor of the enormous tank. Kohler also turned toward the window, looking uncertain.

  “Normally,” Vittoria explained, “we’d have to wait the full twenty-four hours until the batteries died, but this chamber contains magnets beneath the floor that can override the trap, pulling the antimatter out of suspension. And when the matter and antimatter touch…”

  “Annihilation,” Kohler whispered.

  “One more thing,” Vittoria said. “Antimatter releases pure energy. A one hundred percent conversion of mass to photons. So don’t look directly at the sample. Shield your eyes.”

  Langdon was wary, but he now sensed Vittoria was being overly dramatic. Don’t look directly at the canister? The device was more than thirty yards away, behind an ultrathick wall of tinted Plexiglas. Moreover, the speck in the canister was invisible, microscopic. Shield my eyes? Langdon thought. How much energy could that speck possibly–

  Vittoria pressed the button.

  Instantly, Langdon was blinded. A brilliant point of light shone in the canister and then exploded outward in a shock wave of light that radiated in all directions, erupting against the window before him with thunderous force. He stumbled back as the detonation rocked the vault. The light burned bright for a moment, searing, and then, after an instant, it rushed back inward, absorbing in on itself, and collapsing into a tiny speck that disappeared to nothing. Langdon blinked in pain, slowly recovering his eyesight. He squinted into the smoldering chamber. The canister on the floor had entirely disappeared. Vaporized. Not a trace.

  He stared in wonder. “G… God.”

  Vittoria nodded sadly. “That’s precisely what my father
said.”

  23

  Kohler was staring into the annihilation chamber with a look of utter amazement at the spectacle he had just seen. Robert Langdon was beside him, looking even more dazed.

  “I want to see my father,” Vittoria demanded. “I showed you the lab. Now I want to see my father.”

  Kohler turned slowly, apparently not hearing her. “Why did you wait so long, Vittoria? You and your father should have told me about this discovery immediately.”

  Vittoria stared at him. How many reasons do you want? “Director, we can argue about this later. Right now, I want to see my father.”

  “Do you know what this technology implies?”

  “Sure,” Vittoria shot back. “Revenue for CERN. A lot of it. Now I want—”

  “Is that why you kept it secret?” Kohler demanded, clearly baiting her. “Because you feared the board and I would vote to license it out?”

  “It should be licensed,” Vittoria fired back, feeling herself dragged into the argument. “Antimatter is important technology. But it’s also dangerous. My father and I wanted time to refine the procedures and make it safe.”

  “In other words, you didn’t trust the board of directors to place prudent science before financial greed.”

  Vittoria was surprised with the indifference in Kohler’s tone. “There were other issues as well,” she said. “My father wanted time to present antimatter in the appropriate light.”

  “Meaning?”

  What do you think I mean? “Matter from energy? Something from nothing? It’s practically proof that Genesis is a scientific possibility.”

  “So he didn’t want the religious implications of his discovery lost in an onslaught of commercialism?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “And you?”

  Vittoria’s concerns, ironically, were somewhat the opposite. Commercialism was critical for the success of any new energy source. Although antimatter technology had staggering potential as an efficient and nonpolluting energy source—if unveiled prematurely, antimatter ran the risk of being vilified by the politics and PR fiascoes that had killed nuclear and solar power. Nuclear had proliferated before it was safe, and there were accidents. Solar had proliferated before it was efficient, and people lost money. Both technologies got bad reputations and withered on the vine.

  “My interests,” Vittoria said, “were a bit less lofty than uniting science and religion.”

  “The environment,” Kohler ventured assuredly.

  “Limitless energy. No strip mining. No pollution. No radiation. Antimatter technology could save the planet.”

  “Or destroy it,” Kohler quipped. “Depending on who uses it for what.” Vittoria felt a chill emanating from Kohler’s crippled form. “Who else knew about this?” he asked.

  “No one,” Vittoria said. “I told you that.”

  “Then why do you think your father was killed?”

  Vittoria’s muscles tightened. “I have no idea. He had enemies here at CERN, you know that, but it couldn’t have had anything to do with antimatter. We swore to each other to keep it between us for another few months, until we were ready.”

  “And you’re certain your father kept his vow of silence?”

  Now Vittoria was getting mad. “My father has kept tougher vows than that!”

  “And you told no one?”

  “Of course not!”

  Kohler exhaled. He paused, as though choosing his next words carefully. “Suppose someone did find out. And suppose someone gained access to this lab. What do you imagine they would be after? Did your father have notes down here? Documentation of his processes?”

  “Director, I’ve been patient. I need some answers now. You keep talking about a break-in, but you saw the retina scan. My father has been vigilant about secrecy and security.”

  “Humor me,” Kohler snapped, startling her. “What would be missing?”

  “I have no idea.” Vittoria angrily scanned the lab. All the antimatter specimens were accounted for. Her father’s work area looked in order. “Nobody came in here,” she declared. “Everything up here looks fine.”

  Kohler looked surprised. “Up here?”

  Vittoria had said it instinctively. “Yes, here in the upper lab.”

  “You’re using the lower lab too?”

  “For storage.”

  Kohler rolled toward her, coughing again. “You’re using the Haz-Mat chamber for storage? Storage of what?”

  Hazardous material, what else! Vittoria was losing her patience. “Antimatter.”

  Kohler lifted himself on the arms of his chair. “There are other specimens? Why the hell didn’t you tell me!”

  “I just did,” Vittoria fired back. “And you’ve barely given me a chance!”

  “We need to check those specimens,” Kohler said. “Now.”

  “Specimen,” Vittoria corrected. “Singular. And it’s fine. Nobody could ever—”

  “Only one?” Kohler hesitated. “Why isn’t it up here?”

  “My father wanted it below the bedrock as a precaution. It’s larger than the others.”

  The look of alarm that shot between Kohler and Langdon was not lost on Vittoria. Kohler rolled toward her again. “You created a specimen larger than five hundred nanograms?”

  “A necessity,” Vittoria defended. “We had to prove the input/yield threshold could be safely crossed.” The question with new fuel sources, she knew, was always one of input vs. yield—how much money one had to expend to harvest the fuel. Building an oil rig to yield a single barrel of oil was a losing endeavor. However, if that same rig, with minimal added expense, could deliver millions of barrels, then you were in business. Antimatter was the same way. Firing up sixteen miles of electromagnets to create a tiny specimen of antimatter expended more energy than the resulting antimatter contained. In order to prove antimatter efficient and viable, one had to create specimens of a larger magnitude.

  Although Vittoria’s father had been hesitant to create a large specimen, Vittoria had pushed him hard. She argued that in order for antimatter to be taken seriously, she and her father had to prove two things. First, that cost-effective amounts could be produced. And second, that the specimens could be safely stored. In the end she had won, and her father had acquiesced against his better judgment. Not, however, without some firm guidelines regarding secrecy and access. The antimatter, her father had insisted, would be stored in Haz-Mat—a small granite hollow, an additional seventy-five feet below ground. The specimen would be their secret. And only the two of them would have access.

  “Vittoria?” Kohler insisted, his voice tense. “How large a specimen did you and your father create?”

  Vittoria felt a wry pleasure inside. She knew the amount would stun even the great Maximilian Kohler. She pictured the antimatter below. An incredible sight. Suspended inside the trap, perfectly visible to the naked eye, danced a tiny sphere of antimatter. This was no microscopic speck. This was a droplet the size of a BB.

  Vittoria took a deep breath. “A full quarter of a gram.”

  The blood drained from Kohler’s face. “What!” He broke into a fit of coughing. “A quarter of a gram? That converts to… almost five kilotons!”

  Kilotons. Vittoria hated the word. It was one she and her father never used. A kiloton was equal to 1,000 metric tons of TNT. Kilotons were for weaponry. Payload. Destructive power. She and her father spoke in electron volts and joules—constructive energy output.

  “That much antimatter could literally liquidate everything in a half-mile radius!” Kohler exclaimed.

  “Yes, if annihilated all at once,” Vittoria shot back, “which nobody would ever do!”

  “Except someone who didn’t know better. Or if your power source failed!” Kohler was already heading for the elevator.

  “Which is why my father kept it in Haz-Mat under a fail-safe power and a redundant security system.”

  Kohler turned, looking hopeful. “You have additional security on Haz-M
at?”

  “Yes. A second retina-scan.”

  Kohler spoke only two words. “Downstairs. Now.”

  The freight elevator dropped like a rock.

  Another seventy-five feet into the earth.

  Vittoria was certain she sensed fear in both men as the elevator fell deeper. Kohler’s usually emotionless face was taut. I know, Vittoria thought, the sample is enormous, but the precautions we’ve taken are–

  They reached the bottom.

  The elevator opened, and Vittoria led the way down the dimly lit corridor. Up ahead the corridor dead-ended at a huge steel door. HAZ-MAT. The retina scan device beside the door was identical to the one upstairs. She approached. Carefully, she aligned her eye with the lens.

  She pulled back. Something was wrong. The usually spotless lens was spattered… smeared with something that looked like… blood? Confused she turned to the two men, but her gaze met waxen faces. Both Kohler and Langdon were white, their eyes fixed on the floor at her feet.

  Vittoria followed their line of sight… down.

  “No!” Langdon yelled, reaching for her. But it was too late.

  Vittoria’s vision locked on the object on the floor. It was both utterly foreign and intimately familiar to her.

  It took only an instant.

  Then, with a reeling horror, she knew. Staring up at her from the floor, discarded like a piece of trash, was an eyeball. She would have recognized that shade of hazel anywhere.

  24

  The security technician held his breath as his commander leaned over his shoulder, studying the bank of security monitors before them. A minute passed.

  The commander’s silence was to be expected, the technician told himself. The commander was a man of rigid protocol. He had not risen to command one of the world’s most elite security forces by talking first and thinking second.

  But what is he thinking?

  The object they were pondering on the monitor was a canister of some sort—a canister with transparent sides. That much was easy. It was the rest that was difficult.