by James Flynn
An NNEMP device.
It stood for Non-Nuclear Electromagnetic Pulse, and it was a device that emitted an electromagnetic pulse once detonated. It was actually more accurately an explosively pumped flux compression generator. Luke’s knowledge on the subject was not extensive but it was a one-time use device that could exceed the power of a lightning strike by an order of magnitude. He placed it gently back into its casing.
Then there was a dangerous-looking knife; it looked army issue and had a black hilt that housed the blade. Luke’s mind wandered to the mission. Today at 7 p.m. time was slipping away fast. The more he considered it the more he knew he had one primary goal: stop Beltrano by any means necessary.
It was clear, it was solid and most importantly it was simple. He could feel his lungs opening, the pain and exhaustion lifting and clarity returning. He was on his own, and he was about to start his hunt … exactly how Luke Temple liked it. He packed his supplies into the waterproof bag provided, changed into the new clothes and prepared to leave.
Taking a final deep breath, he felt a drop of sweat form on his forehead, and for the first time Luke marvelled at the construction of a place so far under the earth.
How do they keep the atmosphere livable?
There must be an array of vents that pump in fresh oxygen and expel stale air in a constant recycle … Luke suddenly froze.
Vents!
He smashed his hand on the button; the door slid open, and he moved out past the marble plinth. The strip lights flickered on as he entered. His eyes were scanning the ceiling; the air was cooler in this chamber. Then he saw it …
Over in the corner of the ceiling near the lift was a large silver vent. It was circular and had concentric circles running to the centre. Luke moved over to it, stood under it and raised a hand; he could feel a cold draught … it’s connected to the outside world. More importantly, it was large enough to fit a man inside. Luke knew he may have found his way into the laboratory. Being so far under the ground the laboratory had to have some connection with the outside world, some sort of ventilation system. If he could find a vent then he may be able to travel down it, no need for grand entrances.
It was a long shot, but he remembered what Chung Su had said in the hotel room about the key management of the underground laboratory not needing to be as deep as the nuclear detonation site. There must be a large ventilation system for the size of the operation and a way of maintaining with repair shafts. The idea had his blood pumping; he touched the dry-bag as his mind ran over the lengths of rope he had tucked away. Maybe Davison was psychic.
At that moment Luke was woken from his thoughts by the ping of the lift. Someone was coming down.
80.
“Wake up! No more sleeping, Miss Chung … come on, wake up!”
Chung Su’s eyes snapped open, coming to rest on the man sat in front of her.
“Ah good morning, Miss Chung. I apologise for the abrupt wake-up call.”
Chung Su took a couple of moments to gather her thoughts; she couldn’t grasp where she was. All too quickly reality came crashing back down.
“Come on, Miss Chung, stay with me.” The man clicked his fingers.
Her stomach churned with crippling nausea, her back was aching, and she realised she was sat slumped on a chair, her body twisted to the right. With great effort she straightened herself, wincing at the agony of the muscles stretching in her stiffened back. Her head was swimming and the figure of Beltrano staring back at her made everything all too real.
“Miss Chung … welcome back.” Beltrano spoke in English.
“Wh … I don’t …” Chung Su struggled, her brain misfiring.
“It’s ok, the effects will wear off. I am sure you feel rather terrible at the moment.” Beltrano sat with a steaming coffee in front of him and a wide smile on his face. “Well … what an exciting few days we have had. I must say, you look as lovely as when we last met. You have been quite busy since then …”
“Where am I?” she finally managed.
“There will be time for that. I think you may even cheer up when you know where you are. But first, I have some questions for you.”
Chung Su felt sensation returning to her limbs; she flexed her toes and opened and closed her hands. Her breathing was heavy, but she could feel the sedative wearing away, her hands and feet were not bound and she could move freely.
“Miss Chung, I am sure you can appreciate my interest in the man you were with … the man who kidnapped you …”
Chung Su noted the strange tone in which he made the statement.
“… He is a very dangerous man, and I want you to help me understand who he is. Let’s start with his name.”
Chung Su looked at Beltrano; his eyes were fixed on her. His voice was calm but there was something about him that chilled Chung Su; she could not bring herself to say Luke’s name.
“Miss Chung, I don’t know what you think you know about him but I can assure you none of it was true. It is very important that I know his name …”
Chung Su’s head was pounding; she wanted to scream in frustration; fear and anger were swirling in a drunken haze within her.
He may still be looking for me. Was it a crazy hope? She had no idea, but that was what her heart was telling her.
Beltrano took a sip of coffee. “Come on, Miss Chung.”
“Robert … his name is Robert,” Chung Su mumbled.
Beltrano smiled. “Ah yes, Robert Reid.” The smile disappeared. “I am a patient man, but do not test me. What is his real name?”
“I don’t know … I don’t. He told me he was Robert, that is all.”
Beltrano let his head drop. “In that case I can only draw the conclusion that you two were working together, that it was no kidnap at the Observatory but in fact he was protecting you.”
Chung Su realised that Beltrano honestly did not know who Luke was or what his purpose in Teramo may be. Strangely, that brought her comfort.
“I suppose it doesn’t really matter now … he is dead.”
Chung Su couldn’t hide her shock, and he knew he had dealt a blow.
“Does that pain you, my dear?”
Chung Su gritted her teeth. “You are lying.”
“Oh am I? I am afraid not. He is dead. You are alone.”
Chung Su fought the nausea. She had been in the car when Beltrano and his men had gone back to check for Luke, but she was certain they had not found his body. She had seen first-hand how resilient a man he was.
“Why don’t I ask you a few more questions and see if you can offer me the truth … starting with why you are here, Miss Chung?”
“You brought me here,” she snapped back.
“Do not play games with me, I do not like games.” Beltrano shifted forward in his chair. “Why were you sent here to Teramo?”
Chung Su replayed in her mind the tangled web of different events that had led to this moment; it was hard for her to see it all as anything other than fate.
“I am just a scientist, I was invited here to the gala, it was a great hono …”
Beltrano cut her off sharply. “You cannot lie to me; I want to know what your specific purpose for being here is.”
The image of the stout military man who had visited her at her own laboratory flashed up, his evil dark eyes, the yellow-stained smile. “I am a scientist, I came here because I was invited by the National Laboratory and CERN, I do not know …”
Chung Su was not allowed to finish the sentence. Beltrano’s hand slapped across her face. He then gripped her face tightly between his fingers, squeezing around her cheeks, bringing his head an inch from hers. “I have said you cannot lie to me, so why do you still try!?” Chung Su could smell the coffee on his breath; he spat the words, “I know who you are. I know the work you have pathetically been attempting, and I know why you are here. You have failed, Chung Su, failed in your feeble attempt to understand what it is we have achieved.”
Chung Su felt her eyes watering; she w
as frothing at the mouth with each hard-fought breath.
“You have lost … In a matter of hours you can witness the birth of a new power, a new dawn that will herald science and God into a new golden age.”
The experiment! They had managed to achieve the impossible; they had changed the laws of physics. The thought was pounding in time with the pain in her head. She had recognised the steely look in his eyes; it was a look that she had laid eyes upon many times before; the sentiment ran through the heart of her people; it was a deep, unwavering belief.
“If I had my way you would be dead.” He released his grip. “You are lucky that he feels you deserve to watch us make history.”
He? Who is he?
81.
“I am so very sorry for interrupting; it is very much against our protocol but we have some unexpected visitors.”
Luke gripped the bag tight as he stood next to Wynn, who now looked uncharacteristically flustered.
“Who are they?” Luke asked flatly.
“The police.” Wynn winced as he said it.
Luke appreciated that in his line of work the last people Wynn ever wanted to see show up were any sort of law enforcement.
“And no ordinary police. Are you aware of the Carabinieri?”
Wynn had no idea how aware Luke was.
“Well, they are not people you want on your premises.” Wynn wrung his hands.
The lift came to a gentle stop; they were back in the halfway room and the other lift door stood opposite – straight up to the Carabinieri.
To Luke’s surprise, Wynn didn’t head for the opposite lift. Instead, he veered to the right-hand wall, raising his metallic device. At first it looked as though he was going to drive the metal into the solid wall, but as Luke joined his shoulder he could see a tiny slit. The flat edge of the metal swiped through the crack and as if by magic the wall punched open. Wynn put both hands on the exposed door and pulled it back.
“Security is our commodity, remember. There is a single-person lift through here, take this.”
Wynn threw him an identical metal device.
“Push it into the panel and it will take you to ground level. It brings you up at the rear of the building. Go, go.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because whoever you work for appears to be very powerful, and in my line of work I try not to offend powerful people. Now go …”
Luke slipped through the gap, still clutching the dry-bag. Just then, Wynn pushed his head round. “Wait … take these. It is the silver Mercedes, you will see it.” Wynn then threw Luke a set of car keys.
“How many officers?”
Wynn thought about it. “Three that came in, but you would have to assume more are outside.”
Luke nodded his thanks. Wynn moved out of sight, shutting the door as he went. Luke was now stood in a darkened room; red trim lights gave a dark glow. He located the lift, pushed in the metal and the door pinged open. He stepped inside; there were no buttons to press. As the door shut, it set off on its own.
Luke had no idea what was awaiting him but Wynn was right to think that if three officers came into the building then at least the same number were outside. Luke ran through scenarios; he fought the urge to open the bag and strap on the Glock. He was moving out into the street and he wanted to keep any dramatics down to a minimum. He felt in the bag for the flick knife.
The snow across the square was undisturbed, which was a good sign. He checked left and right and saw nothing but the rear of two other buildings, no movement, no noise.
Just as he gripped the door handle to push out into the cold he saw the faintest wisp of moisture float past the glass. He froze. A heartbeat later the wisp came again and Luke knew it was someone’s breath. He gently pressed his face against the glass, peering to his left. He was hidden by the pane but a flash of a red leg stripe and a tip of a hat confirmed to Luke that an officer was against the wall.
From the angle, Luke could now see Wynn’s Mercedes parked over the opposite side of the square. He knew he had to get to the car, and he allowed instinct to take over.
Gripping the closed knife, he pressed down on the handle. The blade appeared silently. He released some air from his lungs and embraced an inner calm.
In one fluid motion, Luke swung the door open and span round to his left. Before the Carabinieri even had a chance to move, Luke clattered the knife case into the man’s temple, knocking him off-balance. As the man stumbled, Luke saw movement on his right. There had been another officer further along the wall. He let out a cry and crunched through the snow, running over to his colleague.
Before the Carabinieri he had struck could recover Luke hit him in his exposed kidney, then used his other flat palm to strike deep into his diaphragm, forcing the air out of his lungs. Now the man was crumpled on his knees, Luke swung round to confront the next Carabinieri who was tearing toward him.
The officer was an older man. He was spewing warm air into the sky as he huffed and puffed his way toward his colleague. Luke kept focused on the officer’s hands; he was pawing at a holster held inside his jacket, fumbling to get a grip of the pistol.
Luke began charging directly at him.
The man had a stoic face with a greying moustache but his eyes gave away the fear; he had not expected Luke to steam towards him. The man checked his run and put his attention on the pistol … but it was too late.
Luke closed the gap fast. The man looked up from his fumbling hands just as Luke put his whole momentum into landing a kick at his left ankle. The force shifted his leg outwards and the snow did the rest. The officer almost did the splits and in a millisecond Luke brought his knee up hard under the man’s chin, snapping his head back. He fell flat on his back into the snow.
Luke flashed a glance back at the Carabinieri on his knees; he was still fighting for breath. Luke didn’t want them dead but he sure as hell wanted to make sure they couldn’t raise any alarms. He took off back toward the officer; the man’s eyes were wild, a mixture of pain and bewilderment. Luke clenched the knife case tight in his hand and aimed a forceful blow directly on the carotid artery running from the man’s skull down his neck. It was a direct hit. Within seconds the man slumped down onto the floor unconscious.
Scanning the area as he ran, Luke saw no signs of any other Carabinieri racing to the rescue. As he pushed the key into the Mercedes he stopped and listened …. still nothing.
Sparking the engine, he pushed his foot to the floor. The wheels slipped round, burning through the snow until they hit traction on the tarmac and jolted the car forward. Luke guided himself out of the square, back onto Corso San Giorgio and onwards to L’Aquila … his final stop.
82.
Time was sliding away at an unmarked speed. It was impossible to gauge how fast it moved or what direction it was moving in. The space had become a void. Chung Su’s mind was confused; she pitched between afraid, angry and numb.
What do they want me for?
The torture lay in the lack of answers; with her head down and her eyes closed the questions kept coming, to the point where she had the fleeting wish that they would just end it now.
Have they really achieved what I could not? I gave everything to explore the speed of the neutrino and my mind couldn’t even fathom the possibility that it could be manipulated to interact.
That is the gift of genius, she thought, her mind now turning to Professor Ernesto Vittorio, a man who, if Beltrano was to be believed, had set mankind on a fast track to unlimited possibilities, yet he will never know how mankind fared. If Vittorio could be around to see the violence that it was already causing he would no doubt be ashamed.
And I am not above the shame, I too behaved despicably. I knew what my work would bring. If I had achieved the impossible then I knew in my heart that it would have been used for evil ends. But I followed …
She could feel the tears welling up; her grandfather came walking through the darkness.
Focus on the science �
�
The blueprint that had been photographed at Vittorio’s apartment came into focus; in her mind Chung Su overlaid her replica steam-written image.
Can this be it? Can I be sat within the detonation site?
Her mind raced back over her car journey, or the part of the car journey before she had been drugged. She saw the motorway they were travelling along, the darkened trees whipping past, and then rearing up through the windscreen was a dark shadowed mass, leaping into the sky … the Gran Sasso range.
L’Aquila.
Chung Su’s stomach tightened. The horror of terrorism had always seemed a strange foreign concept to her. North Korea had been plastered across the globe as a rogue state, a terrorist nation. But she had been part of that, and the Iranian men who now held her were a different side to the same coin.
Her heart pumped as she realised why they had kept her alive … they want me to witness the test. She now knew they were aware of her work. They had always known, since before she first met Beltrano at the gala. They were gloating; they wanted someone who understood the work to know the significance. And once the test was complete, the world would be changed forever … and she would be dead.
The door creaked open; Chung Su raised her head from her arm, the light making her squint. Beltrano stood in front of her, two armed men either side.
“Get up Miss Chung. I apologise for leaving you alone for so long. Perhaps I am not the best host.” He nodded at the men and they walked over, gripped Chung Su under the arms and escorted her out of the room.
83.
The wind swept across the gulley. It whipped fresh snow from the steep hills, lining the air with powder. The narrow pass was dotted with a mix of brown barren skeletal bushes and dark green evergreens bending in the wind. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, threatening a further flurry of snow.
