Halon-Seven

by Xander Weaver

  “The FBI? That’s a good call. But are you willing to turn Meridian over to the federal government?”

  His face contorted. “Certainly not!”

  “What would you tell the authorities?”

  Sanjay paused for a moment to consider but the look he gave Cyrus indicated that he knew better than to be indecisive now. It would only hinder his power play. “Simple. We are the targets of a terrorist group. We already have the attack on Reese and yourself, as well as the bomb from Alfie’s car. That is all the evidence we need!”

  Cyrus scratched his chin in a display of consideration, but it was an act. He knew the possible directions Sanjay could take his argument, and had opposing points for every one of them. He had already considered and dismissed each possible course of action before coming to the course of action he’d suggested.

  This conversation was about clipping Sanjay’s wings.

  “We do have evidence, I’ll give you that. But the funny thing about the feds? They won’t just take you at your word, assign round-the-clock protection, and leave it at that. They insist on an investigation. That evidence will get the feds to pay attention but you need to be prepared for the questions they’ll ask once you open that door. Questions like, why are you being targeted? Who is targeting you? What are they after?” Cyrus looked out across the room. All of the eyes that seemed invigorated by Sanjay’s simple solution now started to see it for what it was. “And those are the simple questions. You can’t invite the feds into your life and not expect them to pick it apart. Once they’re onboard, they’ll find out about Meridian. Once that genie is out of the bottle, there’s no turning back.”

  Sanjay raised his hand and opened his mouth to counter the point, but he stopped before saying a word. Cyrus suspected the man’s long-term vision for the future of the project included securing a very important place in the history books. This technology would change the world. The scientists who developed the technology would be forever remembered as pioneers. In the end, Sanjay’s vanity wouldn’t allow him to risk his place in history. It was either that, or something more personal that shut the man down. Maybe he didn’t care to have the feds digging around in his personal life. Either way, Sanjay finally shut his mouth and sat down. He made no reply.

  Everyone sat in silence. There simply were no easy answers. There was no easy fix.

  Chad was the first to speak up. “So where do we go from here?”

  “As much as we don’t like it, we go to ground. The team will be sequestered so far off the grid that even you won’t be able find yourselves.” Cyrus saw the questioning looks from the group. He knew he had their attention now. “You’ll have all of the amenities of civilization, but it’ll be 1970s civilization. Hot and cold running water, heat and air conditioning, television and whatnot. But there will be no telephone and no Internet access. One hundred percent off the grid. It’s the only way to ensure your safety right now.”

  That was the bombshell he was dreading. He could tell by the looks on several of their faces, the lack of cell phones and Internet access was a virtual deal breaker. He cut that off before another fit could ensue. “Let me remind you, there is a very real threat out there. Four men tried to kidnap Miss Knoland, and she was the lucky one. They tried to kill me, and they put a bomb in the engine compartment of Mister Ahmed’s truck. Make no mistake, the people behind this mean you harm. And they won’t stop until they get what they want.”

  That did the trick. The silence of the room became malignant. Cyrus had attended funerals with cheerier faces.

  Tracy Clark raised a hand somewhat timidly. “So while everyone is in lockdown, who’s going to solve our problem? If not the FBI, who can help?”

  This was a good sign. The group was coming to terms with the situation, and someone was finally asking the right questions. “That’s my job,” he said with what he hoped was a confident smile. He hadn’t signed up for this, but here he was. And while this was taking him somewhere he’d sworn to never return, this was work he was good at. Or, at least he had been good at it, once upon a time. It was time to dust off those old skills and see how badly they had atrophied. A number of things were already not making sense, and he had a growing list of questions. It was time to put these people into hiding, and it was time to start digging deeper into the mess Walter Meade had left him.

  Step one was to take a closer look at Meade’s files.

  Chapter 16

  Wenzler Laboratories, Paulson, New Jersey

  Monday, May 18, 1903

  Over the course of 1902, a series of unprecedented meteor showers were witnessed throughout the world. The display made headlines across the planet. Though a visual spectacle, virtually all of the celestial material was vaporized while entering Earth’s atmosphere. Only a handful of meteors ever made landfall. Those located in the United States were quickly retrieved for study. Of those collected, a single meteorite exhibited unusual properties and warranted more than a cursory examination.

  Unlike most of the specimens that survived atmospheric entry, the meteorite designated as J-189D was large. It was, at most, half the size of a loaf of bread but it dwarfed all siblings from the era. But its size was only the first unique property J-189D had to share. Its secrets began to unfold when it displayed unusual magnetic characteristics. The magnetic abnormalities prompted further examination, and a number of intensive tests were scheduled as a result.

  Initial testing of J-189D was conducted at Wenzler Laboratories in Paulson, New Jersey. It was a small government-funded facility with less than two-dozen scientists on staff. Though lacking in manpower, the lab was staffed by some of the greatest scientific minds of the time. Despite this, J-189D’s greatest secret was discovered entirely by mistake. It was an accident that, with time, would send untold ripples through the scientific community.

  Initial examinations of J-189D yielded unexpected results. The unusual magnetic properties were enough to capture the attention of Wenzler researchers, but the real mysteries of the meteorite soon followed. Sometimes even the most brilliant minds require a nudge from the hand of fate.

  At one point, sample J-189D was being transported from the primary laboratory to a neighboring room, only a few doors down. Due to circumstances that were never determined, the sample was dropped. The impact with the lab’s tile floor broke J-189D into a pair relatively equal-sized fragments.

  The accident was soon thought to be advantageous, since it allowed the research team to split into a pair of groups, each studying a portion of J-189D in seclusion. While the teams worked in adjoining labs, their experiments were conducted independently. The objective was a series of blind A-B examinations that were compared at the end of each day.

  Unfortunately, these tests exhibited inconsistent results from the very beginning. Even initial baseline examinations returned wildly varied results. The inconsistencies made it clear that there was something very unique about J-189D. In many scenarios, the meteorite simply didn’t conform to conventional laws of nature. In test after test, results continued to baffle both teams of scientists.

  Until finally there was a breakthrough.

  It had been another frustrating morning. The sample had displayed more aberrant results. The unpredictable behavior of the ore was stressing both research teams to their limits. Team Two had finally taken a break for lunch. Everyone needed to walk away and decompress. While the rest of the team retired to the commissary, the project head and leader of Team Two, Rumsfeld Pellagrin, surrendered to his emotional funk. He sat at the laboratory counter, staring at his team’s portion of J-189D. Pellagrin did his best thinking before and after normal work hours. It was at those times when the lab was silent that his mind felt completely free. So he sat at the counter and rolled the shard of ore around in the palm of his hand. He stared at it, eyes unfocused and mind drifting as he contemplated its mysteries.

  He spent nearly twenty minutes either absently bobbling the chunk of ore in one hand or passing it back and forth from one h
and to other, all the while lost in thought. His mind drifted as he considered the most recent test results. They made no sense. Suddenly he snapped out of his daze and glared at the sample. He held it up to the magnification lamp bolted to the surface of the nearby counter. Before he could take a closer look, he yelped and dropped the chunk of stone. It smacked the counter with a thunk as he jumped away like a scalded child.

  Pellagrin glared at the sample on the counter. Then his eyes moved down and to the right for a closer look at the palm of his hand. Blisters were beginning to form. Looking back to the sample sitting askew on the table, something seemed off. He leaned closer, trying to identify what had caught his eye. It looked as if the color of the ore had changed slightly. Moments later, the loose sheets of paper beneath the chunk of J-189D began to smolder and then smoke.

  At a loss to explain what was happening and already feeling blisters on his hand, Pellagrin grabbed a pair of tongs from the tool tray a few feet away. Grasping the sample between the tongs, he pulled it from the smoking papers just before they burst into flames. He searched for a safe place to stow the meteorite, even as it was increasing in temperature. Quickening his pace, he carried J-189D with outstretched arms. His subconscious desire was to keep the strange material as far away from his body as possible.

  He quickly located what was needed and deposited the sample in a large porcelain bowl on the far side of the lab. Stepping away from the bowl, he struggled to understand what had just happened. It was about that time he smelled smoke. Spinning on a heel, he found that the loose-leaf papers on his counter had indeed spouted fully into flames.

  Dashing to the hallway door, he grabbed the fire extinguisher from its wall mount. Even as he crossed the room, Pellagrin was pulling free the short metal rod that activated the chemical reaction inside the device. By the time he reached the open flames of the countertop, he was already pressing the release valve.

  Unfortunately, the extinguisher was a dud. The metal rod he’d pulled from the top of the canister was supposed to dislodge the lead plug beneath a glass vial located deep within the device. When the plug was freed, a small, concentrated dose of sulfuric acid was supposed to mix with a sodium bicarbonate solution and produce carbon dioxide, pressurizing the contents of the tank and expelling water from the tank’s main reservoir. Frustratingly, the mechanical portion of the device had failed.

  Cursing aloud, Pellagrin threw the useless red canister aside and bolted into the hallway. One door down, he ducked into the next lab and snatched the fire extinguisher from its wall mount. In doing so, he drew the attention of nearly every member of Research Team One. They were in the process of examining their portion of J-189D.

  Pellagrin quickly returned to his lab and promptly extinguished the growing flames. By that time, the fire had spread to cover the majority of the countertop and had started to climb the corkboard on the wall behind it.

  Attracted by the drama, several members of the team from the next lab arrived to investigate. Shocked to see the smoldering wreckage of the once pristine lab, the lead scientist from Team One, “Big Al” Jones, looked to Pellagrin for an explanation. Winded and already at a loss for understanding, Pellagrin only pointed across the room to the ore fragment sitting in the large porcelain bowl. By now the sample was glowing orange and yellow. It had grown to a temperature so great that thermal waves could be seen radiating from its surface.

  Everyone was awestruck, gaping at the sample. It was spontaneously generating high levels of heat. Everyone realized this, but no one knew why. Jones asked what sort of experiment Pellagrin was conducting without the rest of his team. But when Pellagrin explained that there was no test, his counterpart from Team One looked truly thunderstruck.

  Jones started to ask a question but stopped, only stuttering the start of an incomprehensible phrase. He stammered, lost in thought. Trying again, once more he failed to put together a coherent sentence. Finally, his eyes pulled back from where he was looking, far off in the distance, as if seeing the answer to his own question on the horizon. He looked Pellagrin square in the eye and waved for him to follow.

  The two team leads left the lab, passed down the hall, and walked quickly through the next doorway to the facilities dedicated to the examinations conducted by Team One. Not understanding what was happening, Pellagrin followed, as confused and lost for explanation as he had been when the fragment began to burn the palm of his hand.

  Jones led Pellagrin across his lab and over to a counter where a small metal cage was suspended over the open flame of a Bunsen burner. Jones stopped suddenly, and with a dramatic flourish, he pointed to the second sample of J-189D glowing orange and yellow with flames from the torch lapping up around its sides. Team One had been conducting an experiment—exposing the sample to extreme heat and observing the material’s reactions.

  As unbelievable as the circumstances were, the two teams conclusively proved their unlikely hypothesis over the subsequent three days. When one of the fragments was exposed to extreme temperature, the second fragment radiated that temperature to exactly the same degree. It didn’t matter if one fragment was in the lab and the other was down the hall in a chest of ice. It didn’t matter if the second fragment was ten miles away, locked in a lead-lined safe. If the first sample was heated to three hundred degrees, the second sample spontaneously heated to exactly three hundred degrees without fluctuation and without fail.

  They conducted test after test. And what worked with temperature also proved true with electrical current. They put current through sample A and attached a voltage meter to sample B. Sure enough, the opposite sample tested at exactly the same voltage as its twin. They finally had an explanation for the inconsistency of their early tests. When one team ran tests on its sample, it was interfering with tests run by the reciprocal team.

  Defying explanation, the two chunks of J-189D were linked at some unknown level. As illogical and unlikely as the strange link between the two fragments was, they were able to prove the connection, if not immediately explain it.

  The discovery of the meteorite had proven to be truly extraordinary. But the experience was the start of a long and close collaboration between the head of Team Two, Rumsfeld Pellagrin, and the head of Team One, Albert Einstein—sometimes known by his unlikely nickname, Big Al Jones. Pellagrin would go on to develop his life’s work, Silent River, based on what he learned from J-189D. Einstein applied his observations of J-189D and became the father of theoretical physics.

  Chapter 17

  Berton Springs, Colorado

  Wednesday, 3:40 pm, Present Day

  Using the teleporter, Cyrus and Reese made several trips from the house in Colorado. The first was to collect some of Reese’s electrical engineering hardware from the group’s office in Santa Barbara. Cyrus was adamant that they take anything they might need from the office because they wouldn’t be returning. That facility was public facing and listed on the web and in the phone book. It was therefore their most vulnerable location.

  The second trip was to gather groceries and provisions. They would be using the Colorado house as a base of operations and needed to stock up accordingly. Walter Meade had been meticulous when it came to keeping his home’s location private, so it had remained a secure location. And, given their easy access to the platforms and the resulting ability to teleport to locations all over the country, they were afforded a unique disregard for geography. They would leverage that. The Colorado house would be their safe haven.

  The third trip was back to Reese’s apartment. Since it was an active crime scene, they needed to take precautions. Not wanting to teleport into the middle of a room full of forensic technicians, Cyrus opted to first phone Detective Franklin. He said that he and Reese would be stopping by the apartment to pick up a few things and asked if it would be alright. Franklin said this was fine, but he wanted to arrange for an officer to meet them. Since it was still a crime scene, the officer would log everything they removed. Cyrus explained that he and Reese were only
a few blocks from the apartment and asked if it would be possible to meet someone there now. Franklin told him that no one was at the apartment at the moment. His people had cleared out several hours prior. Cyrus arranged to meet a police officer at the apartment door at 5:00 pm. He had no intention of attending the meeting. He knew Franklin would find the call suspicious if he didn’t schedule an appointment after asking questions, so he had to go through the motions.

  The trip to Reese’s was quick. They were careful to touch only what they needed, and they were in and out in less than ten minutes. Cyrus watched the front door while Reese made short work of packing what essentials she required. Taking too much would draw suspicion from the investigating officers. Plus, items such as toiletries, soaps, and shampoos had already been covered by the grocery run earlier.

  That left them with one trip remaining. And Cyrus wasn’t excited about going home. Still, he had gear back at his Chicago apartment that he couldn’t do without. When he’d packed the truck and driven out to Colorado, he’d done so on a whim and to satisfy his curiosity. Cyrus had understood the property was his, free and clear. Allan Underwood was very clear on that point. But he’d had no idea what to expect. With the long drive west to consider the many questions he had regarding Walter Meade, Cyrus had never seriously considered moving to Nowhere, Colorado. He had only stuffed the essentials into a single duffle and hit the road.

  Now he was planning a trip back home to collect more of his belongings. It wasn’t the journey that fueled his reluctance. Reese had checked the database and confirmed his suspicion. Meade did, in fact, have a teleportation site in Chicago. Meade was using the platforms to make short work of the trip between Colorado and Chicago. And while the trip back home would be easy, Cyrus had concern for what he might find there.