Halon-Seven (31 page)

She thought for a few moments. Cyrus could almost see the gears moving in her mind. “I should’ve known better,” she concluded.

He only gave her a questioning look.

“I thought we started the project from scratch. But if that were the case, we made some really radical leaps very early on. I guess I didn’t understand that in the beginning. My background is in electrical engineering and software design. Walter was the physicist. He assembled the team based on their specialties and pointed us in the direction we needed to go.

“Thinking about it now, it seems so obvious! We literally hit the ground running. Something we could only have done if our work was based on earlier research.”

Cyrus nodded. “And, as it turned out, that earlier research has been a work in progress since the early 1900s.”

Reese took a sip of her Mexican beer and looked Cyrus squarely in the eye. “If those records are accurate, American scientists have been chasing this white whale for more than a hundred years. And some of the greatest scientific discoveries of our time were found in pursuit of Meridian.”

Cyrus only nodded.

There had been a long-standing search for an energy source powerful enough to fuel the Meridian platforms. In 1939, scientists believed a fission reaction could be achieved by splitting a single atom of uranium-235. If anything could power Meridian, surely it was nuclear fission.

According to the records before them, the famed World War II Manhattan Project wasn’t an attempt to build the world’s first atomic bomb. The goal was safe, inexpensive, limitless energy. Energy enough to power Meridian. But splitting the atom turned out to be both outrageously powerful and devastatingly destructive. It was a complete failure as far as Meridian was concerned. But in the eyes of the American military, it was the ultimate weapon. So the military took that science and made it a tool of war. And thanks to revisionist history, no one would ever know the altruistic intentions of brilliant minds had been perverted into something sinister.

Somewhat ironically, the crude atomic research of that day was eventually refined to become, in some small way, the type of power source that the original Meridian team had sought. Nuclear power was used extensively in the first rounds of successful testing, decades later. At the time, a nuclear reactor was the only energy source powerful enough to entangle the contents of a platform and engage the quantum bridge. That was, until Meade and his team made a series of breakthroughs of their own.

Meade’s team managed to drastically reduce the platform’s power requirements. At the same time, they learned that a tremendous amount of energy was released from the receiving platform following the completion of a transport event. It was a revelation. At first they worked to simply dissipate the excess energy in an effort to prevent catastrophic overload. But it wasn’t long before Meade realized that the platforms were able to provide an energy surplus as a byproduct. The only hurdle that remained was to develop some sort of battery or capacitor to store the energy expelled from recipient platforms. If they could store that energy surplus, it could be used to power subsequent uses of each platform making the system self-sustaining.

“If I understand things correctly,” Cyrus began. “One technical obstacle is keeping Meridian from deployment?”

“Basically, yes. Right now we’re using Halon-Seven as a super-capacitor on the functional platforms. But the element is exceedingly rare, and we have a finite supply. Basically the platforms that are currently in operation are the extent of our capability. Our supply is depleted.”

“Halon-Seven is the ore I read about? It had some sort of unique properties allowing it to act as a battery?”

She laughed. “That’s one way to put it. If Halon-Seven is a battery, it’s the battery to end all batteries. The material has the properties of a superconductor but it functions at room temperature—something no known superconductors can do. And, unlike any conventional battery, it can charge and discharge massive levels of energy at rates so fast that we can’t properly measure them. It’s most accurately described as a super-capacitor.”

“So where does Halon-Seven come from?”

Reese’s face grew serious. “We don’t know,” she said quietly.

“What? What do you mean, you don’t know?”

How could they not know?

“Walter said that what we were using constituted the entire known supply of the material. He never told us—he never told me—where that supply came from.”

“I don’t understand,” Cyrus was absently scratching at the stubble on the side of his jaw. “How is it possible no one knows where it came from?”

“How could we not know that the origins of Meridian dated back to 1900?” she countered. “There’s a hundred plus years of skeletons in this particular closet. Halon-Seven might’ve only come into the story recently, but with the levels of secrecy we’re dealing with, nothing should surprise either of us.”

That was true.

“So far everything we needed to know has been in the vault,” Cyrus said finally.

“I was thinking the same thing. We haven’t been through all of the files. I was about to check the last file cabinet when you got back. But I still haven’t found anything, and to be honest, I don’t think what we’re looking for is there.

“In truth, Halon-Seven is a massive scientific breakthrough all by itself. A superconductor that operates at room temperature? All current superconductors must be cooled to absolute zero in order to function. Halon-Seven represents a breakthrough that would revolutionize dozens of cutting edge manufacturing processes. But it’s pretty much meaningless if we only have a finite supply.”

Cyrus saw where she was going with this. If there was no documentation explaining the origin of Halon-Seven or why there was a limited supply, it was because Meade considered the information extremely sensitive. If Meade considered the secrets of Meridian of paramount importance and chose to leave the documents in a hidden vault, what did that say about his concern for Halon-Seven? Whatever its origin, Meade must’ve considered it far more sensitive.

“Do you know why it’s called Halon-Seven?” Cyrus asked.

Reese shook her head. “Walter provided the name along with the substance. To be honest, I don’t think I ever asked.”

“What about the material itself? Why is it so hard to come by?”

She shrugged. “Another mystery, I’m afraid. Walter never said—and I never asked. All I know is that the element is exceedingly rare, and he was scouring the planet for more of it.”

Cyrus thought for a few moments. He was trying to get a bird’s eye view of the project, and the gaps in details concerned him. He decided to move on to facts with which he felt more confident. There were a few questions he suspected might be considered sensitive. He wasn’t sure how Reese would react to them.

“Tell me about Meridian,” he said. “When this technology goes public, there’ll be an amazing amount of money to be made.” He considered his words carefully. “Every home will eventually have its own platform. Many businesses will likely be equipped with several of the devices. Distribution companies will have large-scale versions to move bulk materials, and so on. There’s a lot of money to be made building and selling the platforms. Then I suppose there’s ancillary income such as patents and contracts for maintenance and a dozen other things I haven’t yet considered.

“What I’m asking is, who benefits from all of that? Where does all the money go?”

It was the basic principle for any criminal investigation. It didn’t matter if it was theft, murder, or industrial espionage—you followed the money. It might not provide all the answers, but it would get the investigation moving in the right direction.

Surprisingly, Reese’s smile only became broader. “The platforms will be built and sold at cost. Walter intended this project to better mankind, not to make him or the team wealthy. If—no,
when
—we solve the technical hurdles, the entire system will be run as a multi-national not-for-profit-organization. Essentially we’ll open source the technology.”

Ouch.

It was what Cyrus was afraid of. She was proud of the endeavor, and good for her. It was an admirable goal. It was altruistic. But it was unrealistic, too, because it ran counter to human nature.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She could see the answer to his question had soured his disposition.

It was time to lay it all out for her.

“A substantial problem comes to mind,” he started. “Those goals are amazing, and the world would be a better place if more people felt the same way. But there are a lot of people with a vested interest in keeping Meridian off the streets. The world wide, low cost deployment of Meridian? There’s a lot of people out there that wouldn’t want to see this reach the market.”

“I don’t understand.”

He had two ideas, but he’d considered only one well enough that he felt comfortable giving it voice.

“All of those people, companies, and organizations that have something to lose if Meridian goes public—what do you think they would be willing to do to keep it from seeing the light of day?”

She looked stricken. “You think one of them is behind the attacks?”

“I think that any or all of them might be willing to kill, just to maintain the status quo. It’s the military that really troubles me. There isn’t a military group on the planet that wouldn’t bury every one of us just to keep Meridian for themselves. We’re talking about the ultimate tactical advantage. I think the list of suspects needs to include any person or company with an interest in keeping things running the way they are, as well as every government, military, or intelligence service in the world. Hell, even terrorist organizations would see this as a potential weapon.”

Reese’s eyes were glazing over as the true weight of his words struck home.

“What I’m trying to say,” he said confidently as he took her hand, “is that the safety of the project and the safety of the team lies in anonymity. That anonymity is in danger right now. But there’s good news. I think I’ve got a bead on who’s after the team. And, if I’m right, that person won’t have shared Meridian with anyone. If I can ensure that, I can close the loop, and everyone will be safe.”

She looked him in the eye. Her eyes hinted at the question she didn’t want to ask. “When you say ‘close the loop?’”

“I mean to do whatever is necessary to ensure Meridian and this team are safe again. This is bigger than the seven of us. If it falls into the wrong hands, I can’t even imagine the potential damage.”

She nodded. While the calm words and the conviction of his tone were reassuring, he could see she knew he was talking about killing whoever was after them, if it meant eliminating the threat.

Cyrus noticed his own change in attitude for the first time. He had counted their group as numbering seven. The subconscious indication being that he now considered himself one of them. When he saw the troubled look in Reese’s eyes replaced by something stronger and more confident, he wondered if she had come to that same conclusion.

“So,” she said in a voice that was at first shaky but growing in confidence. “We eliminate the threat, secure Meridian, and then we work on a way to prepare the world for the technology?”

Cyrus smiled. “That’s the plan!”

“I can live with that.”

Cyrus raised his bottle, and Reese clinked hers against his in a salute. “Why don’t we take this to the living room and get more comfortable? I want you to tell me more about Walter,” he said with a smile. “And I’d like to talk about our safehouse. It’s a little unconventional, but rather ideal given all that’s happening.”

Undisclosed Location, Australia

Friday, 11:50 am (Thursday 6:50 pm Colorado Time)

Cyrus looked around the small room as he stepped off the transport platform. Reese held his hand. The room was chilly and poorly lit. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all bare, unadorned concrete. Two small light bulbs hung from unprotected metal boxes attached to the face of the ceiling.

“Great place you’ve got here,” Cyrus said with a grin,
 
and shook the hand of the only other occupant of the room.

Harvey ‘Hondo’ Roberts was a tall, wide-shouldered man ten years older than Cyrus. The man had a short scruff of a beard, piercing blue eyes, and skin darkened from many long hours in the Australian sun. He wore his customary short-sleeved, khaki-colored button up shirt, similar colored cargo pants, and work boots. A tattered and worn floppy-brimmed bush hat sat atop his head.

“Great to see you, mate!” Hondo said and pulled Cyrus in for a bone-wrenching hug. “You’re looking fit. Glad to see civilian life hasn’t made you soft!”

Cyrus laughed at the irony. “I’m not feeling much like a civilian these days,” he said. The comment was amusing because the man was well aware of the more prickly details of the preceding days. “Hondo, I’d like you to meet Reese Knoland. She took over as team lead after Meade passed.”

Hondo’s eyes gleamed and he flashed Reese a proud grin. “Very glad to meet you, miss. Clearly you’re the brains
and the beauty
of this little group,” he said, and flashed her an exaggerated wink. He tipped his head back toward Cyrus. “So, tell me… What is it you need him for again?”

This brought an unexpected laugh from Reese, while Cyrus could only shake his head. “I’m in charge of breaking stuff. I’ve got a list and everything. Keep it up, and you’ll be next on the list.”

Cyrus motioned to Reese. She lowered a backpack from her shoulder and placed it on the cold floor. Then she removed a pair of smartphones from one of its zippered compartments and handed them to Cyrus.

“These should come in handy,” Cyrus said, and he handed both phones to Hondo. “One for you and one for the missus. Think satellite phone, but on steroids. You’ll get reception anywhere on the planet—even down here. Unlimited calling, unlimited data.”

Hondo took the phones but cast suspicious glances at Cyrus and Reese. “What’s the catch?”

“Just one,” Cyrus admitted. “This technology isn’t for public consumption, so keep it on the down-low.”