“He has special skills, ones that I thought Watson would bring to the project. With Watson gone, I thought it was prudent to bring in someone else to replace him.”
“You are truly a wise man. That’s only one of the reasons I love you.”
Since he had his own vision for the Holy Hydronastic Church ten years before, Garrett had scoured the universities for the best and brightest scientists, engineers, and thinkers. It had been a lengthy and arduous process to recruit the men and women he felt would be amenable to the church’s teachings. He had to find the right combination of intelligence and receptiveness to his philosophy.
The indoctrination process was finely honed through years of development. At the beginning, initiates didn’t even know a church was involved. It was more about a common goal for a better planet, one rid of both human suffering and contempt for the earth’s natural treasures.
Then they were wined and dined and brought to one of the church’s facilities in a resort destination: Maui, the Bahamas, Acapulco. There they were treated not only to a fine vacation, but also to spirited discussions about how to improve humanity’s lot. If they continued to show a willingness to further the same goals Garrett’s church had, the next step was a trip to Orcas Island.
When they arrived, they were asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement so iron-clad that breaking it would bring penalties severe enough to make the signatory a pauper for the rest of his life. The NDA was intended to keep malcontents from revealing the church’s practices. There were no exceptions, and those who wouldn’t sign were immediately escorted off the property. Garrett didn’t care about them; they weren’t the types who would be useful to his cause anyway.
Then came the real test — the Leveling. David Deal was in his last Leveling to Level Ten, the most mind-altering of them. Each person progressed in Leveling at a different rate, but only the ones who showed the most promise were promoted to anything above Level Five. Garrett needed a pharmacologist in his New World. He thought it would be Watson, but he’d been disappointed when he found that Watson had betrayed him. Deal was his next choice, which was why the scientist was now staring in rapture at the hologram projected into his room.
It was a state-of-the-art setup, with hidden projectors in multiple corners of the room. The air was suffused with a light smoke, barely visible until laser light was played over it. The drugs that had been developed by Garrett’s company and laced into Deal’s food made him more susceptible to the suggestion that the images were a product of his imagination rather than technology.
All of these procedures were necessary to ensure that each person received the most deeply-felt religious experience of his life. Of course, there were risks associated with such an intense process. It was during one of these sessions that Rex Hayden’s brother had a seizure and subsequently died. The autopsy had shown a genetic defect in his heart, and Garrett had been grateful that the man hadn’t survived to become a flawed member of his New World.
Ever since the death, Rex Hayden had been relentless in trying to expose the inner workings of the church, which he felt was responsible for his brother’s death. Cutter’s idea to test the Arkon on Hayden’s plane had been a just method for punishing Hayden’s interference.
For the rest of Garrett’s adherents, the effect of the leveling was profound. Few coming out of these rooms doubted that what they had seen was a spirit guiding them to a better life. The ones who still questioned what had happened were either excommunicated from the church, or they were disposed of in more permanent ways in the case of the most persistent troublemakers.
Somehow, Sam Watson had slipped through their carefully crafted vetting procedures. That’s why Garrett had been forced to buttress his flock’s loyalty with the lab demonstration. One way or the other, they would obey when the time came.
A knock came at his office door. He casually flicked off the feed from Deal’s room with the knowledge that his indoctrination team was almost finished.
“Come!”
Dan Cutter entered and came to a rigid halt in front of Garrett’s desk. He was careful not to glance at Svetlana, who was now lounging in a chair to the side of the desk.
“Sir, Olsen was unsuccessful,” Cutter said.
“What happened?” Garrett asked without inflection. No need to betray his fury.
“There was a shootout at the Space Needle. Both he and Cates are dead, and the Seattle police and the FBI are now involved.”
Garrett didn’t bother to ask if his men had been captured and interrogated before they died. Neither of them would have let that happen.
“Was either of our targets killed or injured?”
“No, sir. Locke and Kenner are still alive. Should I have another team sent to take them out?”
Just like Cutter. Always a man of action. But sometimes inaction was the best course.
“No, it’s too late now. They’ll be protected. At this point, any future assassination attempts would be counterproductive. Besides, we have our contingency plan in place.”
Locke was more resourceful than Garrett gave him credit for, already surviving two attempts on his life. Still, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Locke was also a man of action.
“What about Friday?” Cutter asked. “Maybe we should change…”
“Nothing will be changed!” Garrett said, sharper than he intended. He calmed his voice. “We will not allow some errors in execution to alter our long-developed and well-conceived plan. And we won’t let Tyler Locke dictate how we proceed. However, we can’t allow him to find the device used in Hayden’s plane and decipher its contents. Is your operation ready?”
“Yes, sir. I will be conducting the mission myself along with my top man. Our intelligence suggests that a large number of pieces have already been transferred from the wreckage site to Gordian’s TEC facility in Phoenix. We should be able to find the device there. We’ll begin the search tomorrow morning.”
“Good. Once we have it back in our possession, destroy it. Then, they will have nothing to suggest what our ultimate plans are.”
Cutter nodded, again studiously avoiding Svetlana’s stare, and exited.
“I like him,” she said. “He’s a tough guy. Like a Rambo. So is it really true what I’ve heard about him?”
“About his injury?” Even though Cutter had been his security chief for years, this was the first time she’d asked.
She nodded.
“It is,” Garrett said. “That’s one reason he’s such a valued asset. Why do you ask?”
She arched an eyebrow and rose from the chair. She slinked over to Garrett and settled on his lap. “You don’t have to worry about the competition.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then the forehead. “Now, tell me about your plans for this evening.” She kissed him on the lips.
Garrett knew he had perfectly chosen the woman to accompany him into the New World.
TWENTY-FOUR
Julia Coleman sat in the Starbucks at the base of the building where Coleman Engineering’s offices were located. Her shift at Harborview Medical Center had just ended, and she still wore scrubs. Locke knew she was a medical resident, but little else. As he entered the store, he could see her bloodshot eyes behind her tortoise-shell glasses, and her hair was tied back in a pony tail. Her expressionless face told him everything he needed to know about the long hours she’d just pulled.
When Locke called her, she had agreed to meet with them, but she wanted to hear why they wanted access to her father’s records before she gave permission to go through them. Locke suggested they discuss it over coffee near Coleman’s office so he could get into the files as soon as he had her agreement.
The two guards from the security firm observed Locke and Dilara from a car parked outside. Locke felt sure that another attack wouldn’t be coming tonight, but their presence calmed Dilara.
Locke introduced himself and Dilara to Julia Coleman, but the doctor didn’t stand as she wearily shook their hands. They took seats opposite her.
“Thank you for meeting us,” Locke said. “I know you must be exhausted.”
“You got my attention when you said this was about my father.”
“Yes, I’m very sorry for your loss. We have come across some information that may shed new light on your father’s death.”
“Are you with the ATF?”
“No, I’m an engineer with Gordian Engineering. I knew your father, but I never worked with him.”
“That’s right. I remember now. My father spoke highly of you, even though you were a competitor.” That surprised Locke. Gordian and Coleman had always had a friendly competition for contracts, but he didn’t know Coleman had talked about him to Julia. “Are you with Gordian, too?” she asked Dilara.
“No, I’m an archaeologist.”
“Why would an archaeologist know anything about my father’s death? Did you know him?”
“No,” Dilara said, “but I may have known someone who did. Do you know a man named Sam Watson?”
Julia shook her head. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Did he have something to do with the accident?”
“We don’t think it was an accident,” Locke said.
“But the ATF investigation said that they had improperly connected the wiring for the explosives. It was triggered prematurely. Are you saying it was done deliberately?”
“Was your father the kind of man who would make that kind of mistake?” Locke knew that working with explosives was not something you played around with. If you got careless, you got killed. John Coleman had been in the business for a long time.
“He was a perfectionist,” Julia said. “That’s why I always assumed it was one of the other engineers who made the mistake.”
“Do you know what sort of project he was working on at the time?”
“It was a new tunnel in the Cascades. They were going through the placement of the explosives the night before the first blast was to be made. Then the accident…It was horrible. All of the top engineers in his firm were killed.”
“Who’s operating the company now?”
“No one. I’m not an engineer, and I certainly don’t have time to run a business. It was a consulting firm, so nobody wanted to buy it. I didn’t want to go through years of litigation from the other engineers’ families, so I just settled wrongful death suits with all of them and shut it down. I haven’t had time to figure out what to do with everything in the office. It’s still there, but I was going to close it down next month.”
“What was he working on before the tunnel?”
“Some huge project for the government. Top secret. Worked on it for three years. He couldn’t tell me anything about it.” Julia looked at both of them. “Are you saying my father was murdered?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Why? Who would want to kill him?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, and we need your help.”
Julia sat back and stared into space as the idea that her father had been murdered sunk in.
“My mother died when I was 20,” she finally said. “He was the only family I had left. I’ll let you have anything in his office if you can tell me who killed him.”
They threw away their coffees and followed Julia into the building. The offices were on the third floor. Julia unlocked the door and took them inside. A typical cubical farm greeted them.
“My dad’s cube is in the corner,” Julia said.
“Would it be all right if I turned on your server so that my computer staff can download your company data and analyze it for any clues?” Locke asked. “I know his company probably had contracts prohibiting disclosure of information…”
“I’ll consider you a subcontractor. If some company wants to sue later, they can take it up with the firm’s lawyers.”
Locke fired up the computers and called Aiden MacKenna, who walked him through opening a port in the security system to allow remote access to the files. He told Aiden to look for any files about Project Oasis. While Aiden began his search, Locke went through John Coleman’s desk and file cabinet.
As he expected, the majority of Coleman’s files were electronic. Most engineering firms drew up their project plans on computers and communicated by phone and email, but there was always a need to print out blueprints, schematics, and presentations. There should be some paper trail for Oasis if he really worked on it. Coleman’s file folders were meticulously labeled by date.
Two cabinets were stuffed until there was almost no room in them, and Dilara went through each of the files looking for a reference to Oasis. A third, the one closest to his desk, was also full in the bottom drawer, but the top drawer was almost completely empty. Locke looked at the dates on the folders more carefully. There was a steady stream of projects up until three years ago, and then suddenly only a smattering of projects were listed in the files.
“Dr. Coleman,” Locke said, “have any files been removed from the office?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“Some files seem to be missing. Do you know what the name of the project your father was working on for the past three years?”
“He wasn’t supposed to tell me anything, but once when he was very tired, he let the project name slip out by mistake. He actually seemed scared when he realized what he’d done and told me not to say a word about it to anyone. The project was called Oasis.”
Locke exchanged glances with Dilara. “Dr. Coleman, can you recall anything else about Oasis?”
“All I know is that he was traveling to the San Juan Islands constantly during that time. He must have made a lot of money on the project. After his death, I found out his firm had deposited more than thirty million dollars recently. That’s what allowed me to settle the lawsuits and keep the office open while I decided what to do with it.” She registered the look of surprise on Locke’s face and went on. “My father would have been disappointed if I abandoned my medical career.”
Locke nodded, but he couldn’t get over the contract size. Coleman’s firm was talented, but small. Thirty million dollars would be a huge amount of money for them.
“Dr. Locke,” Julia Coleman said, “I need to go home and get some sleep.” She held out the office key. “Just lock the door on your way out.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Locke said, taking the key from her.
“I just want to know one thing. Are you going to catch the person who did this to my father?”
“We’ll do our best.”
“Good. I may be a doctor, but I would happily see the person responsible for his death fry.”
She let herself out, leaving Dilara and Locke alone in the office.
“I know how she feels,” Dilara said. “So you think someone took the files on Oasis?”
“This stinks of a cover-up,” Locke said. “First, all of the top engineers in the firm who worked on Oasis are killed in a tragic mishap that someone as skilled as Coleman should never have let happen. Then all of the files mysteriously disappear. And to top it off, his firm was paid an exorbitant fee, probably in the hopes that the survivors would be mollified by the money. Someone came in here and stole every single piece of paper about Oasis, and I’m guessing the only reason they didn’t torch the place to cover their tracks is because it would have raised questions they didn’t want asked.”
“What about the computer files?”
“If there’s anything left, Aiden will find it.”
They looked through the paper files for another hour, but found nothing about Oasis. Whoever had cleansed the files was thorough. Their only hope now was something overlooked in the electronic databases. Locke was disheartened when Aiden called with his results.
“These guys were good, Tyler. Absolutely no references to Oasis in any of the files. Powerpoint, Word, email. All wiped clean of any traces. And yet they left a lot of other stuff. Probably because a straight wipe of the files would have been too obvious.”
Locke felt like Aiden told him that last bit for a re
ason.
“But you found something anyway,” Locke said, suddenly hopeful.
“I said they were good. But I’m better. I decided to do some peripheral searches. Since this Watson guy mentioned you by name, I used it as one of the search parameters. I found a few general emails between you and Coleman. A couple of requests for references, things like that. But there was one email that particularly intrigued me.”
“From me or to me?”
“Neither. It was about you.”
“Read it to me.”
“It’s from Coleman to one of his other engineers. Quote, ‘Jim, this new project is going to make us all rich. I can’t believe Locke turned it down. Sounds right up his alley. His loss is our gain. Project was called Whirlwind. Goofy, huh? These military types love their code words. The client is changing the project name, but hasn’t sent it yet. I’ll let you know when I get it, and then we can crank it up. Give me your picks for our team to work on this. Remember, this is a black project. No one else can know about it. John.’ End quote. Am I right? Does that have anything to do with all this?”
For a moment, Locke was speechless. Whirlwind. He hadn’t heard that word in the three years since he’d signed up for the project and then been dropped by the client two months later.
“Tyler? You still there?”
Locke swallowed. “Yeah, Aiden. See if you can find any more references to Whirlwind, and I’ll get back to you.”
Locke hung up. The shock on his face must have been apparent because Dilara asked him, “What’s wrong?”
He told her about the email.
“So you think Whirlwind was the same project as Oasis?” she said.
“I hope to God it isn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is behind Whirlwind is preparing for the end of the world.”
TWENTY-FIVE
After Locke’s pronouncement about the end of the world, all Dilara could get out of him was that he needed to think. She got the sense that it was how he puzzled through problems, drawing into himself. She went back to searching through the files in silence. As they expected, there was nothing about Oasis or Whirlwind.
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