by Doug Farren
“I’m afraid that information is classified,” Tom said. “Now, return to your office or I’ll have my friend here take you into custody for failing to follow the directions of a peacekeeper.”
Mr. Putter opened his mouth, glanced at the weapon Lashpa was holding, then turned around and left.
“If this is the Purist lab,” Lashpa said, “they certainly know we’re here now.”
Ignoring Lashpa’s comment, Tom turned around and faced the truck bay. Holding his arms out as if he was grasping a large, invisible box, he said, “The truck pulls in here and unloads the shipping container.” He backed up a few steps, turned around, and pretended to set the box down. “The handlers remove the containment box holding the mornita and sign it over to the Cleveland Zoo. The driver is told to leave. So the question is, where did the shipping container and the two handlers disappear to? The only way in or out of here is either through the roll-up door or the double doors leading into the building.”
“Then we need to have the building searched,” Lashpa said.
“Sorbith,” Tom said. “Send in a team. Have them search this entire building. Impress upon them that they are to be respectful of the employees but any resistance will result in detainment. Nobody is to leave.”
“Understood,” Sorbith replied.
Tom walked over to the double-doors and opened them up. A man dressed in a lab coat was just coming out of an office two doors down on the right. He stopped and stared, his eyes wide with surprise.
Magnifying the man’s badge, Tom read his name. A second later, the Orion provided him with a short bio. Chen Woo, Chinese bacteriologist, employed by Gen-Perfect.
“Excuse me Mr. Chen,” Tom said. “I need to see what’s behind all the doors in this hallway.”
“Ah … You’re peacekeepers, right?” the man asked, craning his neck to get a better look at Lashpa.
“Peacekeepers Tom Wilks and Lashpa Krish,” Tom replied, waving an arm in Lashpa’s direction. “If any of these doors are locked, I’ll need you to open them. If you can’t, I’ll be forced to break down the door.”
“We don’t lock anything here,” Chen replied walking toward them. “The door to your left is our storage room. Shouldn’t be anyone in there right now.”
Tom took a few steps forward. To his left was a set of double doors. Inside, he found a well-stocked storeroom with shelves lining every wall. He slowly moved his eyes around to see every part of the room.
“Nothing unusual,” Orion reported after analyzing the details of the video feed.
Tom backed out of the room and closed the door. Turning around, he glanced inside the open cage of the freight elevator. Looking down the gap between the elevator and the shaft, he could see the hydraulic rams. He took a few steps to the next door and put his hand on the handle.
“That’s our telecommunications room,” Chen said, when Tom looked in his direction.
As Tom was closing the door, a pair of police officers arrived. They were dressed in body armor, rifles held at the ready.
“We’ve been assigned to search this floor,” one of them said.
Tom pointed to the rooms he’d already searched. “These are clear. Search everything else including the restrooms. Report to Sorbith when you’re done.”
“Yes Sir,” the officer replied.
“Thank you for your assistance Mr. Chen,” Tom said. “Please return to your work. We’ll be done here as soon as possible.”
Mr. Chen looked at the officers who had begun checking the other rooms. Shaking his head, he walked across the hall and into the men’s room.
Tom returned to the unloading dock where Lashpa had been slowly walking around and examining everything in as great a detail as possible.
“Have you found anything?” he asked.
“No,” she replied, her tail twitching with frustration. “Did you?”
Tom shook his head. “The police are searching the building now.”
Lashpa turned and looked at Tom. “Things just don’t vanish,” she said, her tail striking the concrete floor a bit harder than necessary. “Where did that cargo container and the two men go?”
“I don’t know!” Tom said, pushing the clear plastic curtain aside. Jumping off the platform, he landed in the truck bay. After examining the adjustable ramp, he grabbed the control handle and pulled it down. A motor started to whine and the ramp lowered, going all the way to the ground. Tom reversed the control and the ramp moved back up, automatically stopping when it had reached its limit just above the level of the upper section of the loading dock.
“We must be missing something,” Tom said, restoring the ramp to its previous position.
“The exterior of this building was under constant surveillance,” Lashpa said. “You’ve already determined that the cargo container could not have been moved into the interior of the building. That leaves this loading dock as the only place where it could’ve gone missing.”
Tom extended his arms and turned around, “Do you see anything I’m missing? I don’t see where it could possibly have gone!”
Frustrated, Tom turned and laid his crossed arms on the platform above and looked up at Lashpa.
“I have no explanation,” she said, doing a near perfect imitation of shrugging her non-human shoulders.
Tom rested his head on top of his arms and stared straight ahead. After a moment, Lashpa returned to wandering around.
“Tom?” Sorbith’s voice interrupted.
“Go ahead Sorbith,” Tom replied.
“The building has been searched. No sign of the handlers or the container.”
“Alright,” Tom replied. “Get your men out of the building. I still don’t want anyone to leave—not just yet.”
“Understood. Sorbith out.”
“I just don’t- - -” Tom began, but suddenly stopped without finishing his sentence. He had noticed there was a difference in height between the building and the upper loading dock floor. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to require a short ramp to be installed in front of the doors leading into the building. The ramp was solidly attached to the building but appeared to be resting on the platform. Increasing the magnification of his cybernetic eyes as high as possible, he slowly scanned the area where the building and the concrete floor of the loading dock met. The only thing he saw was a thin line of felt stuffing, but an idea was beginning to take shape in his mind.
Tom walked over to the left side of the truck bay and stared along the wall. There was a gap of about a centimeter between the cement of the upper dock and the wall. Quickly moving to the right he found the same situation.
Lashpa peered over the edge. “You found something, didn’t you,” she said, stating it as a fact instead of a question.
“There’s a small gap on either side of the cement platform,” Tom said. “I would have expected to see a lot of debris in there as well as a bunch of cobwebs. It’s pretty clean.”
Lashpa jumped down and closely examined the interface between the bottom of the loading platform and the floor of the truck bay. “Cleveland gets a lot of snow,” she said. “Trucks coming in here during the winter will bring in large chunks of snow and ice that will melt and possibly refreeze but the edge of the concrete is not sealed against water intrusion. The truck bay is unheated and only minimal heating is available on the other side of the curtain. The bottom edge of this concrete should be broken and chipped by the formation of ice. It’s not.”
“Sorbith!” Tom said, knowing the Orion would establish a connection.
“Sorbith here,” Tom heard the reply through his cybernetic ears a moment later.
“Evacuate this building and everything around it in a four block radius. I have reason to believe the Purist facility is underground, directly beneath this building.”
“That may be difficult to accomplish,” Sorbith replied after a moment. “There are several surgical facilities and a critical care unit within the specified zone.”
“Do the best you can,�
�� Tom replied. “I’ll need an engineering expert and a demolition team here in the truck bay and as many peacekeepers as you can round up in two hours, stationed nearby.”
“I’ll have to inform the city Mayor,” Sorbith replied. “We’re going to need the help of the local National Guard and that means alerting the Governor. This is going to create one hell of a mess. You’d better be right.”
“I am,” Tom replied. “I’m also convinced Allied Cargo had nothing to do with this,” he added. “They’re free to go. But I would like to detain everyone in this building until we’ve done a complete background check.”
“Understood, Sorbith out.”
“Orion, lift off and park yourself over my location. Make sure we don’t get any unwanted air traffic.”
“Acknowledged.”
“This block of concrete must weigh several hundred tons,” Lashpa said. “It’s probably armored as well. Breaking in without causing a large amount of damage is going to be difficult.”
“I want to know how they managed to build a facility like this without anyone knowing. Orion, see if you can’t find the construction plans for this building; I want to know what we’re dealing with.”
“I’ve already done so,” the ship replied. “The original building was built by the Center for Disease Control in 2067. Eleven years later, the CDC ceased operations and the building was sold to a pharmaceutical research company. That company went bankrupt and closed its doors in 2080. The building remained unoccupied until 2122, falling into disrepair. That was when it was purchased by Gen-Perfect. The original structure was demolished and the current building erected in its place. The original building was five stories tall with three levels below ground. The CDC had a class-1 cleanroom on the lowest level. Gen-Perfect decided not to use the below-ground levels citing water intrusion and foundation damage during the time the building was unused. The construction permit says the lower levels were sealed.”
“Very interesting,” Tom replied. Looking at Lashpa, he realized the Orion had told her as well.
“It appears as if you were correct after all,” the ship said.
“The Purists must have a way of monitoring this area,” Lashpa said, bringing her rifle to the ready.
“You are correct,” a man’s voice boomed from hidden speakers.
Chapter 24
Tom’s protective faceplate dropped into place as he unslung his rifle, flipping off the safety as soon as he had his finger on the trigger.
“It’s over!” Tom said into the air. “Give yourselves up and we’ll end this without any loss of life.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” the voice from the speakers said. “If any attempt is made to breach this facility I will detonate a 30-megaton warhead. The city of Cleveland and everyone in it will cease to exist. Attempts to evacuate the city or warn the residents will also result in detonation. Are you willing to risk the deaths of millions?”
Tom fired off a quick thought to his ship. The reply was instantaneous. “Unable to confirm. If there’s a nuke inside the facility, the surrounding concrete and steel would shield it from my sensors.”
“What do you want?” Tom asked.
“The same thing we’ve always wanted—an Earth free of alien influence. This is our world. Non-humans are not wanted here.”
“That’s not for you to decide!” Tom argued.
“It’s obvious you’ve been corrupted by alien ideas. Purists have been chosen to lead humanity into a future where aliens do not dictate to us what we can and cannot do. This conversation is over.”
There was a loud click that echoed throughout the loading bay.
“They’re bluffing,” Lashpa said.
“Are you willing to take the chance they’re not?” Sorbith said, walking into the truck bay from outside the building. “I’m in charge of peacekeeper operations on Earth,” he added. “We’ll continue to cordon off the area but no action is to be taken against this facility. Is that understood?”
“Yes Sir,” Tom and Lashpa both replied.
“Good. Then we’re done here. Inside the facility!” Sorbith yelled. “Do you hear me?”
“I do,” the voice replied.
“State your demands.”
“I’ve already done so. I do not see the need to repeat myself.”
“Your demands are unreasonable,” Sorbith said. “Despite your past aggressions, the Alliance has agreed to view Safa as an Earth protectorate totally governed by your people. Your actions here could jeopardize that arrangement.”
“Safa is not Earth,” the voice angrily replied.
“Let’s go,” Sorbith said, gesturing toward the others. “It’s not possible to negotiate with a lunatic.”
“Insults will not change what is to come!” the unseen man yelled after them as the peacekeepers turned and walked out of the loading dock. “Earth will be ours again! We will …”
The voice faded into the distance as Sorbith led Tom and Lashpa out into the darkening street. They walked back to the mobile command center in silence. Lashpa waited outside as Tom and Sorbith stepped into the vehicle and pulled the door closed.
“You don’t actually believe they have a nuke down there, do you?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know,” Sorbith replied. “But we’re dealing with fanatics. The Purists had access to nuclear weapons for years so his threat is possible.”
“We need to find a way to get a detector into the facility without being discovered,” Lashpa suggested, through their open com-link.
“And what if they do have a nuke down there?” Tom asked. “Then what? We can’t let them continue their research. If they find a way to turn on T11-N106, they could infect and kill hundreds of millions. The Purists are terrorists and the Alliance does not negotiate with terrorists.”
“You’re right,” Sorbith replied. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists. But we must take this threat of theirs seriously. We also must keep in mind we’ve been mandated by the Grand Council to end this threat to the Alliance by any means possible. I need suggestions, but right now I’ve got some calls to make. Head back to the spaceport. I’ll see you in your ship in a couple of hours.”
Sorbith turned and looked at Lashpa. “You won’t have to walk back,” he told her. “The Cleveland Clinic has a few Rouldian-friendly vehicles. They happily supplied me with one. It’s around the corner.”
“Thank you,” Lashpa replied.
Rush-hour traffic was in full-swing as Tom headed back to the spaceport. Leaving the tricycle in automatic drive mode, he asked his ship if there were any new developments.
“I have some additional information concerning Gen-Perfect,” Orion replied. “The construction company that built the building was a private firm. According to the records scanned to date, the only project the company worked on was the Gen-Perfect building. I have been unable to locate a list of employees and the name of the owner—a Richard Johnson—is very common. The address listed was an empty office back when the company existed.”
“That explains how they managed to build the facility beneath the new building without anyone noticing,” Tom said. “Anything on Gen-Perfect’s owner or management?”
“Mrs. Alison Shoemaker is a 68 year-old widow. She has a business degree from the University of Ohio. She started Gen-Perfect a few months after graduating. Other than a few minor incidents while in college, she has a clean record and I’ve been unable to find anything that would directly connect her to the Purists.”
“But you did find something,” Tom said.
“Her college expenses were paid for by grants and loans. Records show she made no payments on her student loans when they became due after graduation. She also defaulted on her car loan and her vehicle was repossessed. Four and a half months after graduating, she filed the papers to form the Gen-Perfect company listing herself as the sole owner. A few days later, she posted large payments to her student loans bringing them up-to-date.”
“Brilliant!” Tom said, as
his tricycle exited the freeway. “The Purists took advantage of her financial condition and bought themselves a legitimate business.
“I’ve forwarded this information to Sorbith. He believes none of the Gen-Perfect employees are aware of what lies underneath the building they work in. Ms. Shoemaker has done an admirable job of running the company. It’s done quite well and has been making a profit starting with its second year of operation.”
“The Purists must have supplied the start-up capital,” Tom said. “We should be able to trace the funds back to them.”
“I’ve been trying,” Orion replied, emulating frustration in the tone of its voice. “The company bank account was opened with a small sum of cash. Two days later, a large deposit was made. The money was properly reported as a loan and periodic payments were made including interest. An audit of Gen-Perfect’s records would show the business is doing everything in accordance with the law. But, I’ve been unable to find where the loan originated.”
“The CAIN software,” Tom suggested, referring to the invasive programming code that had been left behind by a sentient computer program that no longer existed.
“It appears so,” Orion said. “If that’s the case, we may never be able to trace the source.”
“Keep digging,” Tom said. “In the meantime, I think we need to have a talk with Ms. Shoemaker.”
“She’s currently on vacation in Ireland and has not answered her cell phone,” the ship replied. “Sorbith has notified the local authorities and a peacekeeper is standing by to interview her as soon as she can be located.”
Tom was just pulling his steak and baked potato out of the microwave when Lashpa arrived carrying a small, unmarked box. “What took you so long?” Tom asked.
“That stinks,” Lashpa replied, wrinkling her reptilian nose as best she could. “I stopped by a store on the way here,” she said, setting the box on the table. Pulling the top open, she reached inside and pulled out a can of sardines.
“That stinks worse than this!”.
“I disagree,” she said, pulling back the lid and opening the can. “They’re are not as good as live ones, but they’re pretty tasty.”
