Cyrus Twelve: Leona Foxx Suspense Thriller #2

by Ted Peters

  “Leona, you look fabulous. This crazy life you lead seems to be good for you.”

  “Well, it keeps me trim, I guess, but thanks for the compliment. And you...you…YOU look amazing for, what? Two kids? Wow. How many years has it been? Five? Ten?”

  “Before the kids I’m sure. Maybe eight years? Yes, eight. It was at the wedding.”

  “I remember when you were little and used to sit by Angie’s door and listen to our private girl talks,” Leona recalled with a chuckle in her voice. Kelly smiled back enjoying the recognition.

  “And, look at those earrings!” Leona tilted her head to examine the cubic zirconium stud supporting a fine silver chain connected to a second identical stone hanging from Kelly’s right ear.

  “Yes, you are now looking at the very earrings you gave me on my wedding day. I remembered. That’s why I wore them this evening.”

  The two linked themselves together, arm in arm and chattered away, randomly talking over each other and listening, recognizing there were a lot of years to catch up on. Yes, Angie is just fine. Yes, Kelly’s husband, three-year-old son and five month old baby are just fine. Yes, Leona enjoyed her brief vacation in Taiwan.

  Chapter 36

  NASA

  Kelly Latham Compton. She had added Compton when she married Alexander Compton, founder and owner of a chain of pharmacies in the South Bay. Kelly had grown up in Dearborn, Michigan, with her older sister, Angelina Latham, and Angie’s best friend, Leona, of course. Bradley was her son; her baby daughter was named after her aunt Angie, affectionately nicknamed Angel.

  It was seven in the evening. Leona and Kelly walked together through the large glass doorway of the NASA Ames Research Center at Moffat Field in Mountain View, California. NASA space scientists were playing host to the lab rats from TTU, Transhumanist Technical University, an elite institute adjacent to the NASA Research Park. TTU selects only the brightest of the brightest for its students and provides full ride scholarships, funded by donors in Silicon Valley. The students in the lab carry out the experiments designed by the faculty. Kelly had been such a student.

  Kelly and Leona turned more than a few heads as they strolled through the door, and directly to the tables covered in white linen where drinks were being served. Kelly had shoulder-length, sandy blonde hair, wore very little make-up and had a bright and fresh look about her that always attracted appropriate attention, even when she wore a practical, nondescript beige pant suit as she did this evening. A yin yang medallion hung from a gold chain around her neck, resting where one might otherwise expect to see cleavage.

  With hair in a feathered page boy, Leona wore a simple yet sleek navy blue dress that clung gently to the curves of her athletic body. Around her neck, she wore a hand-crafted silver necklace from Taiwan with a likeness of the Buddhist goddess, Quan Yin. Leona had an uncanny ability to stay within a conservative fashion milieu, yet add a touch that made her unique and stylish. Navy blue was Leona’s black, at least out of the pulpit.

  Kelly listened carefully as Leona quizzed the bartender behind a large table of neatly arranged bottles and glasses. “What are your whites?”

  “We have a Chardonnay and a Sauvignon Blanc,” he responded with a plastic smile.

  “I mean: what labels? Who makes them?”

  The man behind the table in the black tux reached into a tub full of ice and picked up a bottle of Chardonnay. It looks like a…a Dragon Tooth Vintners. Do you recognize it?”

  “Yes. It comes from Mainland China. If you light your cigarette the entire building will explode!” Leona tossed the line to him without looking to see if he cracked a smile.

  “What’s the Sauvignon Blanc?”

  He pulled up the next bottle. “The label reads, ‘Domaine des Justices’.”

  “That’s French. It’s passable. But here we are in the heart of California’s wine district, and NASA is buying foreign turpentine and passing it off as the fruits of viticulture. I’ll have a Perrier, also French.”

  “You haven’t asked about the reds. I’ve got a Field Stone Cabernet Sauvignon.”

  “Sold! Fill up my glass, but please leave something for nose.”

  The man with the black bow tie filled Leona’s stem glass nearly three quarters full, leaving just an inch to sniff the bouquet.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” said Kelly in such a way that revealed an indifference to what she was drinking.

  As the two young women turned to move into the party, they realized they needed to file through a thick group of cocktail seekers now bellying up to the bar. The man immediately to Leona’s right was talking on his Nokia cell phone. He hurriedly whispered “goodbye,” then nearly shouted, “Kelly! It’s me, Doug.”

  “Oh, Doug!” responded Kelly. She turned to Leona, introducing the tall, pale man with a nervous demeanor and a twinkle in his eye.

  “Lee, this is Doug Valentine. He’s an exobiologist, works in the NASA lab with me. Three microscopes to the left.”

  In order to shake hands with Leona, Doug set his Nokia on the bar table. He grabbed Leona’s right hand with both of his. They exchanged ‘glad-to-meet-you’s.’

  “Leona’s an astrobiologist too,” Kelly added, intentionally making the profession seem current.

  “Oh, great!” said Doug. “What do you look for? Microbes or brains?”

  “I want to talk with ET,” responded Leona with a quick sideward glance at Kelly, eyebrow slightly raised. “I would love to find intelligent life on extra-solar planets. But, I must confess, right now my science is on the back shelf. I’m not an active researcher.”

  “Just give me a worm that eats methane on Titan, and I’ll be happy,” said Doug with quirky grin.

  “You’d better get your drink,” said Leona, noticing the crowd was building.

  Doug turned toward the bow tie behind the bar table, and nonchalantly ordered two glasses of chardonnay. Hearing this, Leona grimaced to Kelly. Kelly smiled.

  As this distraction was playing out, what neither saw was another hand moving surreptitiously over the cluttered table to pick up the Nokia. Doug took the chardonnay, glass in each hand; and like a cat with a mouse in its mouth proudly walked away from the table to show his prey to his date, his wife.

  Chapter 37

  NASA

  Leona and Kelly found a quiet five square feet of floor space to stand, chat, and imbibe. As attractive as an oasis to the thirsty, these two would not be alone for long. In moments they were approached by three wide-eyed men.

  “Good evening, ladies,” said the youngest of the trio, one of the few in jeans and a polo shirt. “I’m Buzz Kidd.”

  “I’m Leona Foxx.”

  “I’m Kelly Compton.”

  “I know you,” interrupted the tall one. At six foot eight and lanky, he towered over the group. Out came a right hand the size of a shortstop glove. He grabbed Kelly’s hand. “You work in the bio lab, don’t you? I’m Chris MacDonald. I work here at NASA too.”

  “Oh, you’re the Mars guy, right?” asked Kelly.

  “Did I see you interviewed on Sixty Minutes?” asked Leona.

  “Yes, I’m the one with the plans to terraform the Red Planet.”

  “Do you mean you’ll plant life on Mars that looks like Earth? How will you do that?” Leona began an interrogation. “With only fifteen percent of Earth’s volume, eleven percent of Earth’s mass, and only thirty-eight percent of Earth’s gravity, how will you grow anything that looks like Earth’s life? And, how can you get life going if you have only iron oxide for soil?”

  “Wow. You’re just a Gatling gun of facts, aren’t you?” replied Chris. He was about to continue the conversation when he was interrupted by Buzz, speaking in a loud voice.

  “And this is Abnu Sharma,” said Buzz, directing his open hand toward the shortest of the three.

  “Please just call me Sharma,” said the Indian dressed in suit and tie, as he shook the hand of each of the two women.

  The bubbling of introductions
included a toast with wine glasses and queries directed toward the two head-turning damsels. Who are you? Why are you here?

  “I’m a pastor in Chicago,” Leona announced.

  “A Pastor? Aren’t you in the wrong celestial sphere?” asked Chris. “Why, in Heaven’s Name? — that’s a lame attempt at humor, by the way — why would you be interested in space travel or nanotechnology or Transhumanism or any of this stuff?

  “I’m just interested in everything,” she told the group while smiling and sipping. This left them to wonder if she were either a dumb blonde with colored hair or playing with them.

  “I’m a lab rat, just as Chris said,” added Kelly. “My specialty is exobiology. I’m looking for biomarkers that indicate life within our solar system.”

  Twenty feet from this animated conversation, Lionel Chang stood sipping a Dragon Tooth Chardonnay. He starred at Leona. Then from the right pocket of his blue blazer he withdrew his iPhone. With dexterous thumb movements he went to a sub-gallery. He settled on one photo. He looked at the photo and then at Leona. Then, back to his iPhone. Satisfied, he dropped the phone back into his pocket as he took a lengthy drink of the white wine.

  Chapter 38

  NASA

  “There’s life right here,” said Buzz raising his glass for another toast.

  “I know,” said Kelly, as if she failed to get the joke. “But I’m looking for signs of life on the moons of Saturn and places like that.”

  Two other men walked into the group. One spoke. “My name is Khalid Neshat. This is Phee Seng Wu.” They shook hands with the two women and learned their names. Of the men, only MacDonald was new to Neshat; so he offered his right hand. They shook and exchanged names. The eyes of the conversation group shifted away from looking at one another and toward what had become the center of attention: someone with a microphone.

  TTU’s Allen Kurz took the floor and introduced the dozen or so researchers who were accompanying him. Included among those introduced were Buzz Kidd, Olga Louchakova, and Abnu Sharma. He paused. He raised his wine glass in his left hand. Then, he raised his right hand with thumb only a half inch below his index finger. “We’re that close!” he announced. The room broke out into applause accompanied by drinking and toasting.

  Six-foot-tall Kurz wore what his compatriots thought to be his veritable uniform: five pocket relaxed fit Hudson jeans and a black Carhartt mock turtleneck. He continued his address. “The final chip will be smaller and lighter than a watch battery. And here is the genius: it will be patient specific. It will rely upon the DNA specific to each person with an implant; thereby avoiding immune rejection of this foreign object. We will surgically place the chip in its raw state into the left temporal lobe. As the intruding device makes its home in the surrounding brain cells, it will draw a DNA nucleus into its circuitry. In short, it will establish its own bio-nano symbiosis. We expect this process to take two to four days following implantation. Maybe even sooner in some cases. But, in any case, we will refrain from signal activation until the symbiosis is complete.”

  The room broke into a second round of applause, a quilted applause interweaving the moving hands of scientists and investors. Kurz continued. “I’ve designated Dr. Phee Seng Wu to represent TTU and our Transhumanist colleagues to work with NASA on establishing the satellite network.”

  Neshat, who was standing next to Wu, gripped the Beijing scientist by the elbow.

  “Oh!” he responded. Then he raised his right hand. “Dr. Kurz,” he hollered. “Dr. Khalid Neshat will work with me and NASA on the satellite connection.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Wu,” Kurz continued. “And thanks also to you, Dr. Neshat, for your willingness to pursue this important work. Now, let me turn things over to our NASA friends.”

  Eventually the microphone was handed to Chris MacDonald.

  “We here at NASA are pleased to enter into a cooperative agreement with TTU. It will be our task to place in orbit a satellite with direct communication to the implanted chips. It will be an exclusive channel with two way access. Only two days from today the satellite will be launched and orbiting.” A new round of applause broke out.

  As the brief program came to an end, Khalid turned to look directly at Leona. “My, but you’re awfully pretty to be a scientist.”

  “Most scientists I know can’t tell what’s pretty and what’s not,” Leona said. “They only know if the path of an electron is elegant or not.” She sipped her wine. Kelly watched the conversation.

  Khalid offered a diplomatic laugh, failing to be certain whether this was a rejection or come-on. He thought he should try again. “If you were an electron…did you say your name was Leona? I’d certainly want you in my cloud chamber.”

  “I’m not sure you and I share the same inertial reference frame. I’m actually a biologist, an astrobiologist to be more precise. So is Kelly here.”

  “I’m a nuclear physicist,” added Khalid. “I specialize in energy production, fission energy production. I also dabble in astrophysics. I’m sure I would not know anything about what you biologists talk about. So, if you want to lose me…”

  “Oh, no, we don’t want to lose you,” interrupted Kelly.

  Khalid smiled. He turned his eyes back to Leona. “What lab do you work in? Are you here at NASA?”

  “No. Actually, I don’t work in a lab right now. I’m a pastor in Chicago.”

  “Pastor? What’s that?”

  “I’m a clergywoman. You know, sort of like an imam. I serve a Christian church.”

  “You’re a woman and you lead a church!”

  “You’re a Muslim, and you drink wine!” responded Leona with a tone of friendly sarcasm. She gave him a wink.

  “I like wine. If this room were filled with other Muslims, then I would be drinking tea. But as long as I’m in the company of Westerners with lax morals, no one will tell me that Allah will judge me.”

  “We Christians would describe you as a sheep straying from the fold. I’m a shepherd. I look for lost sheep.”

  “Your work must be very…very…interesting.” Khalid was stumbling, but Leona seemed to respond to his charm. Khalid continued. “I would love to come and see you at work sometime.”

  Leona laughed. “You’re not serious. I work in Chicago.”

  “I get to Chicago occasionally on business. After I leave here I’ll go to Chicago and then on to Detroit. Could we meet for lunch?” Khalid reached into the inside pocket of his double breasted suit coat. “Here’s my card. It has my email on it.”

  Leona opened her clutch and pulled out a business card for her new acquaintance. “Please call me when you get to Chicago. I’ll invite you to my church on the south side. But, right now, I’m afraid, I need to depart. I’m flying home on the red eye, I need to head for SFO.”

  Leona turned to Kelly. “I’ve got to return my rental and check in. So, I’ll say goodbye here. I’ll tell Angie we’ve had a great time connecting.”

  The two women hugged one another and repeated good-byes. After shaking Khalid’s hand, Leona disappeared out the building’s front door.

  Khalid watched Leona depart, his eyes dancing to the rhythm of Leona’s hip swing. Then, he turned to Kelly. He smiled so that his mustache exuded and extra dose of sophisticated charm. Kelly said, “shall we find somewhere to sit down and talk?” Kelly said.

  Chapter 39

  NASA

  “It’s too noisy,” said Khalid. “Let’s sit closer.” They arranged their chairs on one arc of a small round table. Looking Kelly in the eyes, he asked her about her NASA work.

  “I’m in the lab that examines evidence for microbial life within this solar system,” she told her attentive partner. Although she worked to maintain eye contact, she could not help but notice and admire his carefully groomed hair, meticulously trimmed mustache, square jaw, and effortless speech.

  He spoke. “Tell me what you think. Are we alone? Or, do we on Earth have space neighbors?”

  Kelly continued. “We have neighbors.
Here’s what I think. The universe is 13.82 billion years old, so you physicists tell us. The Earth was born 4.5 billion years ago, making it one third the age of the whole shebang. Our planet was lifeless until 3.9 billion years ago, when microbes appeared. Microbes were the only living things for nearly two billion years. They breathed methane and excreted oxygen. Eventually the proportion of oxygen in the atmosphere grew. Natural selection then selected species that would breathe oxygen and excrete methane. Think of it: you and I and the cows drink in oxygen and excrete methane. Quite a reversal, eh!”

  “So, we eat and drink oxygen and then we, shall we say, shit and piss methane, is that right?”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Oh, no. This theory is very intriguing. Please go on.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes, indeed. Tell me more.”

  “Well, Saturn has moons, the largest of which is called Titan. Titan is similar to Earth: it has an atmosphere, changing weather, seasons, lakes, mountains and valleys with flowing rivers. Like Earth, Titan’s atmosphere is dominated by nitrogen. It does not have the oxygen we have. Where we have oxygen, Titan has methane—giant sporadic releases of methane in the form of rain. So I ask: why couldn’t there be microbes somewhere on Titan that breathe or drink methane just like our microbial ancestors on Earth?”

  “Good point.”

  “That’s what I’m looking for.”

  “I think that’s just great. How’s your research going?”

  “Well…I just don’t know. Doug Valentine thinks my ideas have merit. But, nobody else does. My colleagues listen to me but then walk away and whisper derogatory things to the other lab rats. I’m only a post-doc. They just don’t take me seriously.”

  “I take you seriously, Kelly. And I’m a scientist too.”