Apocalypse

by Dean Crawford

  ‘Maybe option two?’ Jarvis suggested.

  ‘The black hole is small enough that when it destabilizes it explodes in a violent burst of gamma rays, releasing its energy into the surrounding area. There’ll be a serious bang and a lot of seabed will find itself with a half-life of twenty thousand years, but essentially the black hole decays instantaneously. If this facility is deep enough underwater, the majority of the blast might be contained.’

  Ethan digested what he had been told sufficiently to figure out a question.

  ‘So which one will it be?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ the scientist admitted. ‘It depends on the actual mass of the black hole. Fact is, as a species, we just don’t possess the kind of technology required to contain a large black hole, so whatever he’s got down there should have the potential to decay away, releasing most of its energy as what’s known as Hawking Radiation. Either way, it’s a hell of a gamble to go in there and level the place with heavy ordnance.’

  ‘And you can’t guess at its size?’ Ethan pressed.

  Ottaway sighed, thinking hard.

  ‘It must be a relatively low-mass black hole, because if it were too large it would affect tides in the area, or even the orbit of the earth.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Jarvis asked.

  ‘Definitely. The moon gives us our tides because its gravity produces a swell in the oceans as it orbits the earth. A moon-mass black hole would exert a significant pull on the oceans around IRIS’s base, and that’s not happening, so it must be smaller. That’s good for us, because micro black holes that size will evaporate in a nano-second, given the chance.’

  ‘How big would it be?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘With the mass of the moon?’ Ottaway asked. ‘It would have a Schwarzschild Radius of no more than a tenth of a millimeter. A black hole with the mass of the earth would be about the size of a peanut, but naturally the IRIS hole will be much smaller than that.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Ethan breathed. ‘Joaquin thinks he’s got a device that he can use as a weapon, but if it gets out of control we’ll be looking at a global apocalypse.’

  ‘If it starts consuming material and cannot be contained,’ Ottaway said, ‘then yes, it would literally be the end of the world. But an object of that mass should evaporate, although it will still be an extremely violent event.’

  ‘Joaquin’s site is in water deep enough that any radiation released by the blast should be contained,’ Jarvis hazarded. ‘We can ensure the area is closed off to the public afterward, although that far off the coast I doubt it will present any problems.’

  ‘We could send in a SEAL team,’ Ethan suggested to Jarvis. ‘Surgical strike.’

  ‘There’s too many bodies getting involved already,’ Jarvis said. ‘Best we keep this under wraps.’

  ‘In other words, you want us to go in,’ Ethan said. ‘You ever realize, Doug, that there’s just the two of us, and you keep putting us in harm’s way? If we get ourselves blown to pieces, who’s going to do all of this for you?’

  ‘The technology is just too sensitive,’ Jarvis insisted. ‘If it can be recovered discreetly it would be of immense benefit to the United States, Ethan. There’s no telling what tragedies we could prevent from occurring in the future, or how many lives could be saved.’

  Ethan sighed, looking at the violent spikes on the computer monitor.

  ‘Whatever he’s got down there, it’ll be well protected.’

  ‘Yes it will,’ Jarvis agreed. ‘But you also have something that you didn’t have before.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The element of surprise. Joaquin thinks that, with Charles Purcell dead, this case is closed.’

  Ethan glanced up at the nearby television screens, and was about to reply when a news broadcast caught his eye. A shot of a leafy residential street, a police cordon, a white car surrounded by armed police.

  ‘That’s Kyle Sears,’ he said as he saw the captain in the image. And then he recognized the house. ‘And that’s Charles Purcell’s home!’

  Jarvis, Ottaway and several of the technicians watched as a limping police officer was lifted into an ambulance by his colleagues.

  ‘It’s a shot from yesterday,’ Jarvis realized, ‘when the police first turned up at Purcell’s house.’

  Ethan watched the news piece and felt a surge of anxiety.

  ‘That’s how Purcell predicted the car accident outside his home,’ he said finally. ‘It had to have been on the news for him to see it, and therefore to know that Captain Kyle Sears would be the detective on the scene. Joaquin might actually know when we will arrive,’ he said. ‘He’d only need to set up a camera at the entrance to his facility, link the feed to one of the black hole cameras recording the future, and then take a peek. If it were me, that’s what I’d do. Nobody could walk into my facility without me knowing about it in advance.’

  Ethan’s guts were twisted with worry as he looked at the violent spikes on the GOCE’s data streams and the gravitational pulses radiating away from the Bermuda Triangle.

  ‘We might not be going anywhere if Lopez doesn’t make it out of the Dominican Republic’

  ‘This is what you signed up for, Ethan,’ Jarvis reminded him.

  Ethan felt a surge of anger pulse within him as he glanced at Project Watchman’s screen and made his decision. He turned to Jarvis and shook his head.

  ‘We signed up to investigate crimes that the Defense Department and law enforcement had rejected as myth or fantasy. We didn’t sign up to put our lives on the line day after day. You want us to go in there that badly, then you give us something in return.’

  Jarvis glanced at Project Watchman.

  ‘You don’t know that they’ll be able to find Joanna, or even if she’s alive.’

  ‘You don’t know that they won’t,’ Ethan shot back and jabbed a finger in the old man’s direction. ‘Your call, Doug. Give me what I want and you’ll get the result you want. I guess it all boils down to one simple question – whether you want your answers as badly as I need mine.’

  Jarvis held Ethan’s gaze for a long moment, and then he sighed.

  ‘You get that camera, and I’ll get you your answers.’

  50

  IRIS, DEEP BLUE RESEARCH STATION, FLORIDA STRAITS

  June 28, 16:22

  Dennis Aubrey hurried down one of the corridors that joined the main dome with the ancillary structures that ringed it, heading for the communications dome. He fumbled in his pocket as he walked and retrieved a satellite phone, scrolling down through a series of numbers until he found the one that he needed.

  The communications dome was normally controlled from the main hub, the two linked by optical fibers, allowing all major operations to be operated from Deep Blue’s main control panel. Joaquin had ensured that Aubrey could not contact anybody on the surface, by locking him out of the communications panel. However, Aubrey knew for certain that Charles Purcell would have built redundancy measures into the system, including the ability to contact the surface directly from the communications hub, in the event of a hull breach elsewhere in the facility.

  Aubrey hurried toward the hatch, a lone guard on sentry duty standing with an assault rifle cradled in his grip. He looked up with a bored expression as Aubrey approached and raised one leather-gloved hand.

  ‘No admittance without prior clearance from Mr. Abell,’ the soldier announced in a monotone military voice.

  ‘Do you think Joaquin would have let me out of his sight if he didn’t want me here?’ Aubrey shot back. ‘Mr. Abell is in the control center with the governor of Florida, a member of Congress and an oil man worth more money than God. If we can’t ensure perfect communications with the outside world then I’ll know who to blame when Mr. Abell asks why we failed.’

  ‘I’ll have to clear it,’ the soldier intoned dully.

  ‘Then clear it!’ Aubrey snapped. ‘Just hurry the goddamned-hell up!’

  The soldier reached for his radio, keyed the microph
one and droned into it. Aubrey listened as a scratchy-sounding voice replied. The soldier lowered the radio and looked down at him for what felt like an eternity before he moved away from the hatch.

  Aubrey wasted no time and heaved the hatch-seal handle before shoving the heavy door open with his shoulder and walking inside, careful to seal it behind him.

  The communications hub was smaller than the others, little more than a shed-sized construction that contained a desk, two computers and a bank of radios, both digital and analogue, that connected to the tethered antenna buoy some two thousand feet above.

  Aubrey sat down at the desk and quickly grabbed a set of radio jacks, plugging one end into the back of the satellite phone he had stolen from the control panel and the other into a digital transmission amplifier. He glanced at the controls and saw that the buoy’s transmitters had been shut off by Olaf, just as Joaquin had ordered. Aubrey smiled to himself. The satellite phone provided its own transmission – the buoy’s inactive antenna would simply boost the signal when it reached the surface, much like a television aerial. Aubrey brought up Katherine Abell’s number on his cellphone before dialing it into the satellite phone. He listened to the tone in his ear as the line began ringing.

  ‘Pick up,’ Aubrey whispered. ‘Come on.’

  The line continued to ring and Aubrey clenched his fist in frustration as Katherine Abell’s cell went to voice-mail. Cursing, he waited until he heard the tone at the end of her message before speaking.

  ‘Katherine, it’s Dennis. Listen to me, I don’t have much time. Joaquin isn’t running a conservation project down here. This is a military facility and he’s developed a machine to cause earthquakes and other natural disasters. He’s aiming for where you are, Katherine. I am not allowed to leave this facility. Please, if you get this message, get onto high ground until the quake has passed, and then get in touch with the authorities – the coastguard, the police. Hell, call the goddamned Navy, just get somebody out here as quickly as you can!’ Aubrey paused and brought himself under control before continuing. ‘I’m going to try to stop him. Please hurry, and take care of yourself, okay?’

  Aubrey shut off the line and unplugged the jacks before he stuffed the satellite phone back into his pocket and turned for the door. With a heave of effort he yanked the door open and stepped out into the corridor. The guard glanced at him without interest as he pulled the hatch shut and shuffled off back down the corridor.

  Aubrey reached the main corridor that ringed the central dome and branched off to each of the ancillary domes. Aubrey turned right, waiting until he was out of sight of the guard before breaking into a run. He jogged around the outside of the hub until he reached a smaller, narrower hatch that led not to another tunnel but to a small storage facility attached directly to the side of the main dome. A card-activated security panel was affixed to the wall beside the hatch, restricting access, and for good reason. The small room beyond was the armory.

  Aubrey reached beneath his sleeve and slid out Olaf Jorgenson’s security card. What the towering giant possessed in strength he lacked in wits and intelligence, and Aubrey allowed himself a nervous smile as he slipped the card in. It had taken only a mild sleight of hand to let the card fall into his shirtsleeve rather than drop into the box. The armory door clicked and he hauled it open. He ducked inside and looked at the racks of assault rifles, underwater pistols, knives and small arms.

  Aubrey was no soldier, but he knew enough about weapons from watching television to figure out what he needed. Only the hand pistols were small enough for him to conceal beneath his clothes. He reached up and unclipped one of several Sig 9mm pistols from one of the racks, then looked down immediately below the rack to where a fully loaded clip lay.

  Aubrey slid the clip into the gun’s handle and slammed it into place with the heel of his hand. It slid into place with a satisfying click. Aubrey checked that the safety catch was on before he stuffed the weapon into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back, beneath his shirt.

  Aubrey turned around and ducked out of the armory, then pushed the hatch shut behind him until he heard the electronic locks engage. With a sigh of relief, he walked back toward the main dome’s entry hatch.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  The words snapped like live current through Aubrey’s body as he whirled to see Olaf Jorgenson striding down the corridor toward him, his muscular chest pulsing with each swing of his blocky arms. The giant glanced suspiciously at the armory door.

  ‘Checking the locks on all of the hatches,’ Aubrey coughed. He stood his ground as Olaf loomed over him, and conjured more mystifying terms from the vaults of his memory. ‘We don’t want the longitudinal-mass accelerometer to emit electromagnetic pulses that could fry the locks and blow them open, do we?’

  Olaf peered down at him, the long words apparently rolling slowly through his mind like ticker tapes.

  ‘You said nothing to Mr. Abell about the locks,’ he rumbled.

  Aubrey raised his chin.

  ‘You think that Joaquin has time for a long discussion about the medium-range effects of pulsed acoustic wave signals in confined areas?’ he said. ‘I don’t think that his guests would care for it. Do you?’

  Olaf squinted down at him and then bent forward at the waist, lowering his giant angular head until his icy blue eyes were just inches from Aubrey’s face. One immense and rock-solid forearm slowly pushed Aubrey inexorably backwards until he bumped against the armory hatch. Olaf’s arm pressed against his chest with enough force to restrict his breathing.

  ‘It’s Mr. Abell to you,’ he growled. ‘You think that I’m stupid, don’t you?’

  Aubrey swallowed.

  ‘Not at all, Mr. Jorgenson. But it’s my job to look after this facility and if I’m not allowed to do so, we could all die down here. Mr. Abell has a machine of immense power and it requires delicate control and careful monitoring. That is what I am doing.’

  Olaf glared at Aubrey for several long seconds before releasing him.

  ‘Get back into the control room,’ he ordered.

  Aubrey turned without another word and marched back into the main dome, just in time to feel the immense vibrations emanating from the black hole’s chamber, which were now causing the entire facility to shudder. Governor MacKenzie was backing away from the machine, but Joaquin was laughing and clapping his hands together.

  ‘You see, gentlemen? This is real power!’

  Aubrey walked up to Joaquin with Olaf behind him.

  ‘Sir, the box? We’d best keep it away from the chamber.’

  Joaquin glanced over his shoulder and saw Olaf lumber into view. Satisfied, he didn’t even bother to look at Aubrey as he handed him the box.

  Aubrey carried it to the control panel and set it down. In one smooth motion, he lifted the lid and slipped Olaf’s access card back inside before shutting the lid and placing the box in plain view on the panel. Moments later, the satellite phone was back in its cradle.

  51

  PUERTO PLATA PROVINCE, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC

  June 28, 16:25

  Lopez twisted the throttle of the battered old scooter as she zipped between two carts of junk hauled by haggard-looking mules, along a dusty, winding track that led toward the Septentrional mountain range in the north of the province. The summit of Pico Isabel de Torres loomed nearly eight hundred meters above them, lost in wreaths and ribbons of cloud.

  She and Bryson had landed half an hour previously at Gregorio Luperón International Airport, hiring a pair of scooters and racing away from the coast toward the interior. A brief stop at an IRIS-sponsored medical camp had gained them directions to a village in the interior where Katherine Abell had last been seen.

  ‘It must be out this way somewhere!’ Lopez shouted over her shoulder.

  Bryson weaved between the two carts behind her before drawing his scooter alongside, a dressing around the bullet graze on his forearm flapping in the wind. His piratical eye twinkled in the flickerin
g sunlight that beamed in shafts through the canopy of palms and towering ferns.

  ‘If she’s as much of a goddamned philanthropist as you say she is, we’ll find her in the poorest village around. People like her like to suffer for their work. They’re not happy unless their clothes are rotting and they’re eating cold gravel for breakfast. Look at Mother Theresa!’

  ‘She’s dead, Scott,’ Lopez pointed out.

  ‘That’s what I mean.’

  The track climbed away from the long, flat beaches of the coast, the forests ahead cloaked in ethereal veils of humid cloud. The engine in Lopez’s scooter clattered noisily up the hillside, a faint haze of blue smoke trailing in her wake, and she silently prayed that the ancient motor wouldn’t give out before she reached the villages perched precariously amidst the prehistoric-looking wilderness.

  ‘There!’

  Bryson pointed ahead to where a few rickety shacks peered from the tropical gloom. The clouds were directly overhead now, the air laden with moisture that clung to Lopez’s skin like a hot, heavy blanket. The last six months of the year in Puerto Plata were wetter than the first, the seasonal rains regular enough to prevent any real respite from the intense humidity. Lopez slowed her scooter as it rattled into the center of the village, hordes of young children in brightly colored clothes flocking out to greet her with bright smiles that belied just how little they possessed.

  Lopez killed the engine on her scooter just as Bryson rolled up alongside and did the same. As they stood amidst the children grabbing at them for attention, Katherine Abell stepped out of one of the shacks that formed a circle around the edge of the village.

  Lopez recognized her immediately: the square line of her jaw, the cool green eyes and the long auburn hair; but everything else had changed. Gone was the power suit and the elegant stride. Instead, she wore khaki shorts and a loosely buttoned shirt with simple sandals, and her long hair was tied up in a loose ponytail. Her clean features were scoured of make-up.