Trial Run (25 page)

T
he motel room held a silence that extended far beyond the tawdry walls. The moment's power swamped Charlie. Everything his eyes fell upon shone with a luminescence that he knew was myth, and did not care. Charlie lay down, fit on the headphones, keyed the controls, and set the iPod on the bed beside his right arm.

He had no idea whether his nerves and his tension would affect his ability to ascend. All he knew for certain was, there wasn't a thing he could do about either.

The familiar hum had never sounded more musical. Jorge's voice had never been more welcoming. Counting down had never been more thrilling. The act of letting go never so fulfilling.

Charlie felt his breathing even out, recognized the gradual easing of his heart rate, which was amazing. Because the deeper he descended into calm, the stronger grew the feeling of arrival.

He ascended. And he waited.

And she came to him.

Charlie knew what was happening this time. He could sense Gabriella and he could move forward and he could meld. There was a new spice to the act, coming as it did with the knowledge that this was
her.
This was
her now
. The experience was so intense he could feel his distant body shivering in cadence. The sense of harmony redefined him.

He had no idea how long they lingered. If he could, he would have remained there forever. But he felt drawn by the sense of others needing him. As though he could only now realize the total concern Gabriella carried for her work and her team. From within.

As he started to move away, he realized that Gabriella's presence remained with him. He knew what he was going to do. It was not so much a conscious decision as stepping into a realization. He would go for Brett. He would stop Elene from entering the tempest and turn back the Marine sent to track her. Then he would go after the first name on Elene's list.

At least, that was the plan.

Charlie scarcely had time to fashion the directive pointing him toward Brett. And he was there. Back at the entrance to the maelstrom.

The mawing cavity was sharper now, furious in its silent roar. The vortex weaved and spun and sucked at him.

And yet he remained untouched. Frightened, and yet calm.

He fashioned a roar of his own, woven from his passion to leave this terror, and from his shield. He extended the force from the level of his heart. Echoing the silent power with an unvoiced cry of his own.

Brett.

He did not see the man so much as stumble upon him. The maelstrom surrounded them both, great walls of swirling smoke and raging flames, streaked with abysmal hopelessness. Charlie lowered himself to the form huddled upon the surface. He poured out the shielding love, the forgiveness, the hope. He set it as a beacon before the man. And once more he emitted his heart's cry.

Come home.

R
eese and Amanda Thorne and Kevin and all of Reese's team jammed into the hall that ran the length of the Treatment Room. The windows were one-way glass. They could look into the clinic, but the patients could not see out. Since the patients were comatose, Reese considered it another example of bureaucratic stupidity.

The beds all linked into monitors planted in the opposite wall. Facing Reese and her team were eight sets of mirror images. Eight comatose patients lay immobile. Their faces were far too pale. Their arms were arranged outside the covers. Their mouths held breathing tubes. Cables snaked from their chests and heads to the wall. The monitors showed heartbeats that beat in military cadence.

Then there was the ninth patient.

He struggled weakly against the nurse. His mouth moved. Reese stepped to the hall controls and said, “Quiet, everybody.”

She touched the speaker button, and everybody heard a hoarse voice say, “Guardian.”

“I heard you,” the nurse replied. “Now calm down. You've had a terrible—”

“Got to go help . . .” All strength left him. He flopped like a doll. “What happened to me?”

A voice to Reese's left muttered, “That's what I'd like to know.”

“Joss.”

“Sorry.”

The nurse settled him back. The man continued to struggle feebly, as though lashed to the bed by his sheet. The nurse pulled a syringe from her pocket and inserted it into the IV system. She pushed the plunger. Gradually the man settled.

Amanda whispered, “Is he gone again?”

“No.” Reese pointed with her chin through the glass. “Check out the monitor's top lines. His brain continues to process.”

The nurse turned to the window and asked, “Are you there?”

Reese pressed the button. “Standing by.”

“Has the doctor been alerted?”

Jeff said, “Inbound. Five minutes tops.”

The nurse must have heard him because she said, “His heartbeat is erratic. I suppose that's to be expected, given how long he's been out.”

“Stay on him,” Reese said. She released the button. Rested her forehead against the glass. Sighed.

Amanda asked, “What does this mean?”

Reese kept her forehead against the glass. “I have no idea.”

“Find out how it happened,” Amanda ordered. “Make it happen again.”

“I intend to,” Reese said.

The Washington chief touched Reese's arm. “Step outside with me. Kevin, join us.”

Reese forced her weakened limbs to carry her back down the hall and out into the atrium. The vast chamber echoed with a tense emptiness. Amanda said, “Jason, contact the pilot. Tell him I want to be wheels up in fifteen minutes.” When her aide moved away, Amanda
went on, “I have to get back to Washington. The White House intel briefing is this evening. I need you to pay careful attention.”

Reese took a steadying breath. “I'm here.”

Amanda said, “This connection between the student we can't find and Gabriella Speciale's team concerns me.”

“It should,” Kevin said. “Especially now that we know what Trent Major was working on.”

“This goes far beyond the student and his research,” Amanda said, her gaze still locked on Reese. “Doesn't it.”

“Our team is using their system,” Reese said. “Which means they have access to the same potential to unlock national secrets.”

“That cannot happen. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Can you go after them?”

Reese felt her chest unlock. It was the chance she had been aiming for all along. “I can try.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“I know that,” Reese said. “All too well.”

C
harlie showered before emerging from the motel room. He needed to put some space between himself and what had just happened. He dressed slowly. His entire body ached as from a giant physical exertion, though he had done nothing more than lay prone upon the pallet. He tried to phone Gabriella, but she did not answer. As he walked the motel's open hallway, he smelled something rich with tomato sauce and spices emerging from the motel restaurant's kitchen. His stomach rumbled agreeably.

Elene opened her door to reveal the grad student seated by the front window. The young man had the dark hair and olive complexion of a Native American, but his grey eyes were the color of Afghan smoke.

Charlie asked, “Your name is Trent, do I have that right?”

“Yes.” He wiped his hands nervously on his trouser legs as he rose. “Trent Major.”

Elene asked, “How did it go?”

“We'll know soon enough. But I think good. I went after one of our own who's been MIA. Then I went for you, since you claim it was me who brought you back—”

“There's no question about that. You saved me.”

“—and then I went for the guy at the top of your list. Three was all I could handle.” He rubbed his neck. “Is there any way you can check in and see if your friend has returned?”

“I could try,” she said slowly. “But if they're watching, I might place us and everything we're doing here at risk.”

Trent said sharply, “That can't happen.”

Charlie studied the young man. Trent Major carried an enormous amount of strain, but he managed to hold himself together. Charlie liked that. He said, “Let's check out of here, grab a bite, then go find another place to stay.”

His phone rang. Charlie checked the readout, saw it was Gabriella, and said to the others, “I have to take this.”

He stepped back into his room before answering with, “Are you all right?”

Gabriella's voice was too full of emotions to remain unbroken. “Oh, Charlie.”

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She sobbed a long breath. “Brett has woken up.”

Trent Major told them, “Prions are one of the most complex molecules ever discovered. They are often referred to as a misfolded protein, because the atomic structure is the same as the primary protein that makes up the human brain. This refolding process happens when the molecule comes into contact with what is known as an allele, which is a fragment of another amino acid. This forces the normal molecule, which holds itself in an alpha-helical arrangement, to reshape itself into a beta-pleated sheet. When that happens,
two events occur almost immediately. First, the reshaped molecules generate additional segments of allele, which pass to other healthy molecules. And second, they become deadly.” Trent paused. “How much detail do you want?”

Charlie replied, “As much as you think we need.”

“Prion forms dense plaque fibers inside an infected brain.”

Elene asked, “What is the rate of infection?”

“One hundred percent.”

“What's the cure rate?”

“Zero. If a person ingests the misfolded molecule, that person is gone. This transformation takes place at an alarming rate. To put it bluntly, the beta-pleated sheets eat holes in the brain. This results in a steady degeneration of physical and mental abilities, and finally death. In cows, where this phenomenon was first identified, it is known as bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or BSE, or mad cow disease. When it transited to humans, it became known as new variant Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, or nvCJD.”

Elene drew back slightly from the young man seated next to her. “They are growing these molecules in the same building where we transited?”

“So long as the scientists know what they're doing and maintain a tightly controlled environment, there is no danger.” Trent spoke with the quiet authority of a natural teacher. “And tight control is essential if you are going to operate at the quantum level.”

They were seated at a scarred dining table. The restaurant chairs were cheap metal and vinyl. The windows overlooked the parking lot and the highway interchange. Charlie's plate was chipped. But the food was excellent, and the place held a sense of anonymous security.

Trent pushed his plate to one side and began drawing designs on his paper mat. “Ever since the disease was proven to have mutated from cattle to humans, the CJD variant has become the most carefully studied molecule on earth. They discovered that this variant molecule
possesses remarkable characteristics when electric or magnetic currents are applied. Which is why physicists began considering it as a base module for quantum computing. My goal was simple enough. We already know how the molecule becomes restructured. So why not repeat the process? Only this time, redesign the molecule so that it better suits our purposes.”

Charlie leaned against the side wall and cradled his recharged coffee mug. The warmth rose through his hands. He felt himself gradually becoming reanchored in the here and now. And yet he still felt Gabriella's warmth and her strength, such that everything appeared rimmed by a special glow.

Elene asked Trent, “It never occurred to you that you might be introducing such a cataclysmic threat?”

“Not at all.” Trent sounded very firm. But the hand drawing designs on the tabletop shook ever so slightly.

Charlie sipped from his mug. The way Trent contained his anxiety suggested he would remain cool under fire. And Charlie was fairly certain their task was going to require a hike through Indian country. All he said was, “Explain.”

“Like I said, CJD has undergone intense scrutiny. There is only one way that the disease can be transmitted. The human must ingest the brain or spinal cord of an infected bovine carcass. In the lab, the molecule is locked within ultra-tight containers. In a quantum computing station, this includes supercooled conditions and, in many cases, further isolation through strong magnetic fields. No outside influence of any kind can be permitted to impact the molecule.”

Charlie said, “But you changed the molecule. And now the disease is airborne. And able to eat its way through any container.”

Trent continued to draw designs on the paper mat. “We need a bomb. A big one.”

Elene shook her head. “Won't work.”

“Why not?”

“Your work and the project I was assigned to are sealed inside a cube that defines bomb-proof. Setting off a device would only alert the opposition. They'd come swarming. We'd be overwhelmed.”

Charlie said, “There was this beast from Greek mythology. Chop off one of its heads, seven more grow back.”

“It was called the Lernaean Hydra,” Elene said. “Killing the beast was the second labor of Hercules. He used a harvesting sickle to sweep off the heads faster than they could grow back, and his nephew Iolaus used fire given to them by the goddess Athena to scorch the neck stumps after each decapitation.”

Both men were watching her now. Elene shrugged. “What can I say. I was a career analyst. I lived for research until I came up with the bright idea of joining their team. Now look at all the fun I'm having.”

Trent turned back to Charlie. “We can't let them do this.”

“That's right, we can't. But we have to fight smart,” Charlie said. “All of the images we're receiving carry multiple messages, if we're willing to look beneath the surface. Finding a deeper significance doesn't make the initial message a lie. It enriches it. Makes it resonate on a whole new level.”

They were both watching him now.

“Take the money you're making from these algorithms.” Charlie related Elizabeth's confrontation with her family, the five million dollars, the realtor, the trip she and Shane were now making.

Trent said, “I don't follow you.”

“Listen to what I'm saying. Elizabeth didn't ask about buying an island. She was after a place with sovereignty.”

“You mean, like a country?”

“Effectively a place that can make its own law, yes. These days, most such places are used as tax havens. But there is one other issue. One that might be of crucial importance.”

Elene was nodding now. “Extradition.”

“Right. Going after a criminal who lives in a different country
requires a treaty. Otherwise the laws of one country don't apply in the other, and a person cannot be brought back to stand trial.”

Trent frowned over the prospect. “So now we're criminals.”

“Not yet,” Charlie replied. “But if things work out the way I expect them to, we soon will be.”