The Soul of the Matter

by Bruce Buff

  “What have you found?” Evans asked.

  “The National Laboratory folks are working on it. They’re set up inside that black trailer over there. Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Brooker replied.

  Evans spoke as they walked. “Whatever happened here stirred up a big-time hornets’ nest. The Chinese, Russians, and many others, including key allies, have accused us of running a secret weapons program in violation of every imaginable treaty agreement, and putting our own citizens at risk to do it.”

  “Did we?” Brooker asked.

  “Emphatically no, that’s what I’ve been told by people who ought to know.”

  “Which doesn’t answer the question of whether you believe them. How big of an issue is this?” asked Brooker.

  “Big enough that you need to treat this as the biggest thing you’ve ever done. But it can’t look that way. We need our visible actions to align with official statements that this was merely a research experiment gone unexpectedly bad once tritium was accidentally used.”

  Brooker walked up the trailer steps. “Let’s see what the geeks have to say.”

  They stepped inside, and Agent Evans was greeted by a large security officer who checked his identification and clearance. The trailer was fifty feet long and twelve feet wide. There were no windows. A long desktop extended the length of the trailer behind the driver’s seat. Semicircular couches with tables in the middle and pull-out beds lined the other side. Numerous computers and scientific instruments were mounted about the desktop.

  Four scientists, three men and one woman, were working in a cluster in the center. A dozen additional scientists were working outside at the blast site.

  Brooker introduced Evans to the scientists, explaining that Evans was leading the local investigation for the government, reporting directly to the director of Homeland Security.

  Evans started by saying, “I’m not a scientist. I’m not going to pretend to be one. What I need to find out, as quickly as possible, is what caused the explosion and whether there is any evidence of foreign activity, tampering, or other action that could have deliberately caused it. Now, let’s start with what you know.”

  The lead scientist, a thirtysomething woman with her auburn hair pulled back into a bun, said, “As designed, nothing in the center had the capability to produce the power, heat, and atomic signatures that were observed. The reactor’s size and fuel, along with the limitations of its magnetic fields, meant it was capable only of low-energy experiments. It was also designed so that if it lost plasma containment, the reactions stopped. An explosion, of any magnitude, should have been impossible.”

  “But something did explode. So what happened?”

  A second scientist, a thin, middle-aged man in poorly fitting clothes, said, “As you probably know, immediately before the explosion, one of our satellites detected an intensely bright beam of light bursting skyward for a fraction of a second. During the explosion, satellite readings, along with recordings taken at the scene, indicated the presence of a significant percentage of tritium. They also recorded a high number of particles and energy consistent with a much larger amount of fuel than the reactor should have been able to operate with.”

  Evans interrupted, “So what does all of this mean?”

  The lead scientist jumped in, explaining, “It means that the mixture and amount of fuel was capable of producing the heat of the blast; however, the reactor should never have been fueled that way, and especially, tritium would never be permitted here. More significantly, the reactor wasn’t physically capable of compressing this mixture enough to generate the fusion that actually took place. Finally, once fusion started, it should have damaged the reactor and stopped the reaction rather than ignite.”

  “The blackened hole out there says someone did figure out how to make the reactor to do it, at least once. Find out how.”

  The lead scientist replied tersely, “Agent Evans, I don’t think you appreciate what we’re saying about the science involved. The magnets did not have the power or strength to compress that fuel mixture anywhere near the degree needed. They would have had to have been forty times the size they were, and would have needed far more energy than was available in this city, even if materials with sufficient strength existed. According to the known laws of physics, the reaction that occurred was not possible with this reactor, or any other in existence.”

  “Well, that leaves just two possibilities: either your understanding of what occurred is wrong, or people in the fusion center figured out more than you know about physics. Now, how are you planning to find out which it is? The president is anxious to know.”

  “So are we. That is going to be difficult. All the labs records and computers were destroyed. Off-site computer backups don’t contain anything related to this. The only things that stand out are what little is left of sixteen unusual metal boxes and coils that were arrayed around the outside of the reactor. Given their condition, we haven’t been able to determine their purpose or operation. Maybe further analysis of the satellite recordings will help us. It would also be helpful if your agents can find backup copies of the computer files that the lab’s scientists were using to operate their experiments and store their results. Without them, we may be at a dead end.”

  “We’ve been working hard on that, without much luck. It seems Viktor Weisman, in his last days, suddenly went to great lengths to protect the secrecy of his work,” Evans answered.

  “What about the tritium? Can you find out how that got here?” asked the lead scientist.

  “It was reported stolen from another facility. The people who delivered it here have disappeared,” Evans responded. How could they have so little to go on?

  “Looks like you know just as much and as little as we do.”

  “The difference is that I’m not supposed to know the science.”

  “Without further information on what they did, what breakthrough they achieved, it will be impossible to figure out what happened,” the scientist said.

  “Keep at it. The hell pit outside is proof enough that there is an answer somewhere. We need to find it, fast, before others do,” Evans said.

  As he finished, the trailer door opened, and a security guard handed Evans a sealed packet. He opened it and saw pictures, taken by security cameras near the site of the explosion, of a woman who looked like she had been injured in the blast. The caption read Sousan Ghardi and identified her as a senior director of the fusion center. She was of Iranian origin, and the accompanying sheet had additional information about her background. An all-points bulletin was out on her, though the big fear was that she had already fled the country and might even be in Iran.

  A second set of time-stamped pictures showed Stephen Bishop, taken by security cameras, along the route he had taken from his HBC office, to the fusion center, to his MIT office. Most were grainy. One showed Stephen being directed into a brown panel truck at the back of the Koch Building. The same type of truck that someone called in a terrorist tip on; the one that led the police to the scene of Stephen’s death. Who did that, and why?

  Evans didn’t know what Stephen had to do with anything, but he had to have some connection. He was a friend of Dr. Weisman, and they had spent a lot of time together recently. Stephen had also been friends with Alex Robertson, whose death months earlier appeared suspicious to Evans’s investigators when they looked into Stephen’s associates. It was too much of a coincidence that both Weisman and Robertson were physicists who knew Stephen and that all three were now dead.

  And then there was Dan Lawson, the only one who knew Stephen well, who also had spent time with him recently, and who was still alive. It was near time for Evans to have a frank conversation with his former protégé.

  Chapter 45

  This was probably Dan’s last visit to Stephen’s HBC office. He was there with Nancy to pick out whatever personal effects she wanted. Everything else
would be discarded or left with HBC. In a little over twenty minutes, she had put tags on a few items and put others in a box for delivery to her home. It was hard to remove traces of Stephen from where he should have been but wasn’t. Others could do that later, out of her sight.

  Dan was also there looking for any leads to Galileo or the symbol Stephen had drawn. Nancy sat in Stephen’s chair, looking around the room, as Stephen must often have done. Dan stood behind her, with his back to the window.

  Octavio Romanov walked in. Putting his hand on Nancy’s shoulder, he said sympathetically, “I’m sorry things were so disturbed in here. The government investigators went through everything before taking Stephen’s computer and papers with them. It seems they are straining to connect him with the explosion across the river. They’re grasping at straws, but that is what government types do. They would be better served trying to learn something of merit without causing you more pain.”

  In a weak voice strained with resignation, Nancy replied, “I don’t care what they go through. They’ll find that he had no connection to the explosion despite their barely concealed attempt to link him to it. He wasn’t guilty of anything, he was the victim. You know how much Stephen valued his honor and reputation.”

  Octavio said, “Indeed I do. And they are well deserved. That’s what attracted me to him in the first place. Our loss can’t compare to yours, but is also deep. When I think about all the people he could have helped through the work he had yet to complete . . . Still, I think what he did achieve here was far greater than we’ve yet absorbed. Over the years ahead, the advancements that will come from it will be substantial.”

  Dan wasn’t sure, but he thought Octavio might have glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he finished speaking to Nancy about advancements to come. Paranoia was a hard trait to shake, especially when it had once been important in surviving as a field agent.

  Nancy answered, “Thank you, and I hope so.”

  Dan remembered that Stephen had said that his main breakthrough had occurred in the adjoining conference room. Dan entered it, stood by the table, and faced the clean whiteboard.

  Octavio followed him in and said, “Tell me, Mr. Lawson, what do you see?”

  “What do you mean? The board is blank.”

  “I think you have the gift of great sight. That you can see what others cannot. Perhaps not right away, but in time.”

  “If I do, it’s deserting me now.”

  “I’ll get to the point. The government agents have confirmed what my information technology staff had previously told me. HBC has been under a sustained attack from hackers in China. No one has been able to locate the source, nor determine if we’ve been compromised and identify what may have been stolen. From what Stephen told me, and what I consider the exceptional instincts that have gotten me to where I am, I think you might be able to track down what’s transpired. I’m going to do what I almost never do; make an offer a second time. I’ll pay you far more than you can get for your services elsewhere. Perhaps you’ll even find an important clue about happened to Stephen.”

  Dan didn’t answer right away. Uncertain of Octavio and his intent, not sure whether he was being tested, he again wanted to show the proper consideration that the offer merited.

  “From what I understand, corporate espionage is a costly and widespread Chinese and Russian activity that the US government has not been able to stop. What makes this different, and why do you think I can do more than has been done?”

  “I question how much attention the investigators are paying to my requests. They doubt the potential connection between the cyber attacks and Stephen’s death and are not putting enough effort into pursuing them. Then there was what I described to you upon our first meeting. An unusual pattern of computer network activity took place before Stephen’s death. I think you have the capabilities to look into this properly, especially with your connections.”

  “I think you overestimate me.”

  Giving Dan a look that suggested suspicion, Octavio added, “Why wouldn’t you give this a try?”

  Dan answered, “I seriously doubt that I can find out anything that isn’t already known. But I will consider your offer once I help Nancy settle things. That’s my priority now. Meanwhile, if it’s all right with you, I will talk to some of my old colleagues, and, unofficially, find out how this is being treated by government cybersecurity investigators. I’ll also give you the names of companies that can assist you.”

  “That would be an acceptable beginning. It would be a shame if Stephen’s legacy were tainted and his contributions lost.”

  Resisting what felt like bait, Dan said, “I’m sure we will find a way to preserve both.”

  “There is one more thing I’m disturbed about,” Octavio continued. “I haven’t been able to locate one of Stephen’s outside collaborators. He abruptly left his position at The Broad Institute, a genome research enterprise here in Cambridge, several months ago. He also worked on Koch Industry–funded initiatives via MIT after working for us for a short period. His name is Sam Abrams, and I’m concerned about his safety. If you encounter him, please let him know that I’d like to help him with any trouble he may be in.”

  “Stephen never mentioned him to me, but if I run into him, I’ll be sure to pass on your message,” Dan answered. If a man with Octavio’s resources couldn’t find Sam Abrams, it was unlikely he could.

  Octavio put his hand on Dan’s back and shepherded him back into Stephen’s office. Nancy was talking in quiet tones on her cell phone.

  Hanging up, she said to Dan, “That was a government investigator. He wants to meet us at Stephen’s MIT office in fifteen minutes. He’s sent a car for us.”

  Octavio said, “Dan, it appears that your services are in demand by another party, one that carries far more weight than I do.”

  Dan nodded. Perhaps this was the start of finding out what had happened. Then he could start doing something about it.

  Chapter 46

  The black government sedan dropped them off in front of MIT’s Koch Building. A government agent awaiting their arrival opened the car door for Nancy.

  Dan exited on his own, careful not to show much interest in the area. Still, his jaw clenched as they were escorted to the building’s back entrance, next to where Stephen had been taken. He wondered why they weren’t using the front entrance. Was it a test to see how he reacted?

  Dan and Nancy followed the agent up a flight of stairs and toward Stephen’s office. Yellow police tape hung limply from both sides of the door.

  A man sat at Stephen’s desk, his head bent, sheets of paper on the desktop. Without looking up, the agent said, “Please have a seat, Mrs. Bishop.” He then raised his head and looked hard at Dan. Agent Evans said, “Lawson, you remain standing.”

  Dan stiffened, and with a half-smile said, “What happened to the retirement age?”

  “The younger folks couldn’t do the job,” Evans said.

  Dan shot back, “The older folks couldn’t teach what the prior generation taught them.”

  “I hear you’ve had a rough patch the last few months.”

  “Good news really does travel fast,” Dan fired back.

  “What was the problem?” Evans stated more than questioned, as though he knew.

  “Just needed to find something to do. Got plenty now.”

  Nancy’s head swiveled back and forth as the two spoke.

  Agent Evans looked at Nancy and said, “Lawson was one of my first pupils. A penchant for misplaced idealism and disregard for risk landed him a desk job.”

  “I thought it was a lack of intelligence in the intelligence section that led to my transfer.”

  Sternly, Agent Evans said, “I hope you’re using your intelligence now.” Turning his attention back to Nancy, Evans continued, “Mrs. Bishop, we have more information on Dr. Bishop’s movements. I’d like
to see if either of you can shed light on them.”

  Nancy nodded slowly and said, “Anything to find out what happened to Stephen.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep to the main points. The Friday of Memorial Day weekend, Viktor Weisman visited your husband in this office. Over the next several days, Dr. Bishop and Dr. Weisman communicated with each other multiple times. Tuesday night, Dr. Weisman and seven others were working at his research center. The explosion that took place was visible from Dr. Bishop’s HBC office. Dr. Bishop headed over to the site. Security cameras show him crossing the bridge, dropping something and picking it up, then arriving on the scene of the raging fire, in the cordoned-off area, and then heading over here.”

  Nancy interrupted. “I’m confused about the continued attempts to link Stephen’s death to the explosion and Viktor Weisman. They were just friends. Of course he would go to the site to see what happened and check if Viktor was safe.”

  Looking to deflect the line of questioning, Dan broke in and said, “In the intelligence community, nothing that has the remotest appearance of a connection to something else is ever considered a coincidence, regardless of evidence. Even when a theory is dismissed, someone is always ready to revive it. Except when it matters—then it’s ignored.”

  Evans shot an irritated look at Dan. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bishop, but I have to ask these questions. We have a very serious ongoing situation. Can we continue?”

  Nancy said, “Yes. Whatever he did, I’m confident Stephen only acted appropriately.”

  Picking up where he left off, Evans said, “A short distance from the site of the explosion, security video show two men appearing to follow Dr. Bishop while attempting, but not completely succeeding, to stay out of range of the cameras. At some point, Dr. Bishop seemed to become suspicious. Once inside this office, he called you using this phone. Right after that, Dr. Bishop left this building using the back exit. Two men appeared to surprise Dr. Bishop and escorted him into the back of a brown panel truck, similar to a UPS vehicle.”