Journey Through the Mirrors (22 page)

“OK, Doctor, we’re all set,” the physician’s assistant said.

Dr. Zepher walked over to Jamie, gave her a set of earphones, and positioned the neuro cap’s visor over her eyes. “Jamie, we’re going to start a series of visual tests. Different-colored lights are going to flash in those special eyeglasses you’re wearing. You don’t have to do a thing; just sit back and relax.”

The doctor returned to the four monitors and the 3-D projector, and the test began. Logan watched as telemetry lines began to register activity. The assistant manipulated the controls, and portions of the projected image of the brain became colorized.

“As we run through the visual tests, we can see if Jamie’s brain is reacting properly to outside stimulus,” the doctor told Logan. “We can gauge her reactions by seeing which areas of her brain become colorized.”

“Hey,” Jamie called. “I just saw a giraffe. Oh, and there was a lion.”

“Very good, Jamie,” the doctor said. “Let us know if you see anything else.” He turned to Logan to reassure him. “Sometimes the light sequences cause the brain to fire patterns of recognition. It’s perfectly normal for people to see things that aren’t really there. In fact, we’d probably be more concerned if she didn’t.”

Logan’s PCD vibrated and began to make that annoying chirping sound. “Sorry, my PCD’s been acting flaky,” he said, reading a message from Jasper.

“We’re going to start a series of auditory tests now,” the doctor said to Jamie, and then he turned to Logan. “Sound affects a different part of the brain. While visual processing takes place at the back of the brain, auditory takes place in the right and left hemispheres. We’re cycling through tones that humans don’t consciously hear.”

“Interesting,” the assistant remarked as the telemetry was displayed.

The doctor sat up straighter in his seat. “Wow.”

Logan’s concern did not exactly dissipate. “What is it?
Interesting
and
wow
are usually not words you want to hear during a doctor’s exam.”

“It looks like Jamie is more sensitive to sound than most people,” Dr. Zepher said.

“That’s pretty impressive,” his assistant added, nodding his head in agreement. “These low-end frequencies don’t register with most people.”

“Ouch!” Jamie yelled.

“Hold up,” the doctor said to his assistant. “Jamie, does your head hurt?”

“No, not anymore,” she answered. “It did for a second, but now it’s OK. I saw a really bright orange light.”

“Again, interesting,” the doctor said in a low voice. He rewound the time-lapse recording of Jamie’s brain response and then moved it forward second by second. “We need to find the exact moment her pain centers fired.”

Logan leaned in for a closer look.

“There!” The doctor leaned back in his chair as he looked at a particular reading of Jamie’s auditory cortex. “What are the odds of that?”

“Odds of what?” Logan asked.

“We saw the same thing last night,” the assistant explained. “One of the people who came in last night complaining of headaches reacted the same way as Jamie when we ran the test on him.”

“And at this same tone,” the doctor said. “Eight Hertz. No one is supposed to react to those frequencies.”

“What does that mean?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know,” the doctor said. “We sent off his results to the Calhoun Medical Center in Washington for analysis. They have more advanced equipment than we do. Looks like we have another set of results to send to Calhoun. For some reason, Jamie’s auditory cortex is hypersensitive.”

“As a result of her fall?”

“Maybe,” the doctor said. “But the man who came in last night hadn’t suffered any trauma to the head.”

Logan could hear his daughter humming something. It was a short sequence of notes that she repeated over and over. “What are you humming?” he called to her.

“Just some tune that’s in my head,” Jamie answered. “Grandma taught me to play it on the violin.”

“She plays an instrument?” the assistant asked.

“Yep, the violin,” Jamie said proudly. “Just like my grandma. Why do you ask?”

The assistant glanced at the doctor, who seemed equally intrigued by Jamie’s musical ability. “The man who came in last night complaining about headaches is a famous musician,” the doctor said.

“He ended up having to cancel his concert last night,” the assistant added.

“Ming Peera?” Logan asked. That was the musician whose performance Jasper had been planning to attend.

“Yes,” the doctor said, with a bemused expression on his face.

23

A seed must be planted for the coming rains to nourish it.

Much like philosophy, which needs the nourishment of experience before truth can grow.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

WASHINGTON, D.C., 11:17 A.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 22, 2070

“How were the agents killed?” Valerie asked Zurich-based WCF field agent Colette Hasburg, whose image was projected on her PCD.

“Each was shot and killed with a flux round to the base of his skull,” Colette said, her Swiss-German accent cutting the words sharply. “A very precise strike through the spine.”

“What is a flux round?” Chetan asked.

“It’s like a melting bullet,” Valerie said, shaking her head. “Imagine if you were shot with a bullet made of ice. It would do the same damage as a lead bullet, but within a few minutes, it would melt away. There would be nothing but water left behind.”

“No bullet to analyze, no evidence,” Sylvia said. “Flux rounds came on the market three years ago. They are made from a composite alloy. The heat from the gunshot causes a chemical reaction in the casing of the bullet. Within twenty minutes, the bullet disintegrates; the only thing left is a big old hole in the victim, which looks like an acid wound.”

“We found the two agents stuffed in a barred tunnel under the dock,” Agent Hasburg said.

“Under the dock?” Valerie repeated. “Did any of the Château’s cameras pick anything up?”

“No. At this point, we have no evidence that indicates that the intruder entered the house. We have agents going room by room to see if anything is missing. So far, nothing.”

“What about the tunnel? It’s clear that the assailant knew about it.”

“We’re mapping the tunnels now. There is more than one tunnel down there, and they lead to various parts of the estate. It’s going to take some time.”

“Thanks, Colette. Keep us posted.” Valerie disconnected the call.

“Who would want to break into the Château?” Sylvia asked. “Why take such a risk and kill two agents?”

“We’ll have to let the team in Switzerland deal with it for now,” Valerie said. “Did we get anything more from the Commonwealth?”

Before either Sylvia or Chetan could answer, a portly agent with a thick mop of unruly red hair walked over. “Hey, Val,” he said, with a defeated look on his face.

“What’s wrong, Darvis?” Valerie asked. “You look like someone stole your puppy.”

“I wish that was my problem,” he said. “I need some help, or at least some advice.” Seeing Sylvia, he made an attempt to smooth down his hair. She gave him a slight wave and a smile. “You know those earthquakes we’ve been having?”

“You mean, like the one that almost killed me?” Valerie said.

“Sorry, didn’t know that.” Darvis pointed over at the large 3-D image of the globe rotating in the northeast corner of the Cube. “See the red, green, blue, and yellow circles overlaid on the map? They represent the global seismic events that we’ve been recording for the last three days. The red indicators were the first ones we recorded. Then came the greens, the blues, and most recently the yellows.”

“Looks like the frequency of seismic events has been rising,” Valerie observed. “Many more yellow circles than red.”

“And the circles are clustered in certain regions of the world,” Chetan said. “China, Egypt, Mexico, southern England, and southern India have experienced the most earthquakes.”

“So how can we help you, Darvis?” Valerie asked.

“I was wondering if any of you have ever heard of an earthquake without an epicenter?”

Sylvia and Chetan frowned. “What do you mean, without an epicenter?” Sylvia asked.

“That’s impossible,” Chetan added. “Which one didn’t have an epicenter?”

“That’s just it,” Darvis said. “None of those earthquakes that you see recorded on the map had epicenters.”

“How is that possible?” Sylvia asked.

“No idea,” Darvis said, exasperated. “I’ve been working with the geologists at the E-QON II center in Brussels, but they’re as stumped as we are.”

An alarm blared, interrupting the conversation. Valerie looked around, trying to determine what was wrong. Lab technicians were moving quickly to the southwest corner of the facility, where a series of bright red and white lights were flashing. “There’s something going on over at the Chromatography Bubble,” she said.

“Goshi is in there,” Sylvia said. “He’s testing the foreign residue samples we received from North Africa.”

Valerie had an incredulous look on her face. “What do you mean, testing? Those samples are still supposed to be in quarantine. Who authorized the testing?”

“Goshi told me he received a call from Director Sully. She was adamant that he start. She told him that you knew about it.”

Valerie rushed to the Bubble, followed by Sylvia and Chetan.

The Chromatography Bubble was an airtight portion of the lab
where compounds and other materials could be vaporized for analysis. A single large window made of two-inch-thick tempered glass provided a view into the five-square-meter room.

“What in the world is going on?” Valerie asked, as she arrived at the window.

Two men were rolling on the floor, gagging and struggling to breathe. Goshi was kneeling beside one of them, trying to help him. A fine gray ash was floating in the air.

Sylvia took a seat at one of the control panels, joined by Chetan. “The oxygen level is at fifteen percent and dropping,” she reported. “I’m going to turn up the supply in there.”

Valerie watched as Goshi moved to the other technician, trying to help him sit up. But it was too late. The man was dead. A moment later, the first technician became motionless.

Sylvia hit a button on the control panel, turning on the microphone. “Goshi! Go over and get into a bio suit, and hook it up to one of the oxygen tanks.”

“What happened to the oxygen?” Valerie asked, as Goshi followed Sylvia’s instructions. “I thought you increased the supply. It’s still only at fifteen percent!”

“I did,” Sylvia said. “I don’t know what’s going on.” More gray ash swirled through the air, and now it was accumulating on every surface in the Bubble. It was even sticking to the window, making it difficult for people on the outside to see what was going on inside the Bubble. Sylvia pushed the oxygen supply to max.

Goshi had put on the bio suit and attached a portable oxygen tank to his back. He stepped over the bodies of the technicians and stood by the window.

“Are you all right?” Valerie asked. “What happened?”

“We were running our tests on the substance that we received from the Commonwealth.” Goshi’s voice sounded muffled. “Then, suddenly, these specks of dust were in the air. April and Jonathan began to have
trouble breathing.” Goshi used his glove to wipe clean the window and the visor on his bio suit. The gray dust continued to fall, now more rapidly than before.

“I think we have a big problem,” Chetan said, working frantically on the computer. “We are picking up a biological life form in there, and it is not Goshi.”

“What are you talking about?” Valerie asked.

“Whatever exactly that gray dust is,” Chetan said, reading the computer display, “it appears to be a living organism.”

“Goshi,” Sylvia said, “can you put some of that dust on the electron screen?”

Goshi nodded. He walked over to the electron microscope and removed its plastic cover. He opened the test sample chamber and allowed some of the airborne particles to float in. He turned the device on and walked back to the window, which he had to wipe clean again. He gave the thumbs-up sign.

Sylvia projected a 3-D holographic image. Chetan slid his chair over. They were looking at fifty spherical objects moving in random directions. Each one had six arms protruding from it. At the end of each arm was a cone-like structure. Also, attached to each object was a long, thin appendage that looked like a tail.

“What are they?” Valerie asked, incredulous. Before she could express another thought, the fifty spherical objects somehow multiplied to one hundred.

“They’re alive, all right, but they don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen,” Chetan said. “And they are reproducing at an alarming rate.”

Valerie looked into the Bubble and saw confirmation of what Chetan was saying. Goshi continued to wipe the gray dust from the window and his visor. The dead bodies on the floor were now almost completely covered.

“They just reproduced again,” Chetan said. “What are they feeding on?”

“Looks like they have a very short life span,” Sylvia said. “About a third of them stop moving every few seconds. They are some kind of biological nanite, man-made living organisms designed for some purpose.”

A loud snapping sound grabbed their attention. The glass window of the Chromatography Bubble had cracked. Chetan looked at a biometric display. “The pressure is falling in there,” he said. “A vacuum is forming.”

“How is that possible?” Valerie asked. “Where is the oxygen going? What is sucking it out?”

“The only other organic things in there with Goshi are the nanites,” Chetan said.

“Maybe the nanites are feeding on the oxygen,” Sylvia said, frantically working the computer display. “I’m killing the O-two.”

More popping sounds could be heard. Valerie watched as the crack in the window began to spider.

“The pressure is still dropping,” Chetan said.

“We need to get everyone out of here,” Valerie said. “If the vacuum keeps increasing and that window shatters . . .”

“Then the nanites will be released out here.” Sylvia finished Valerie’s thought. “They’ll start consuming all the oxygen in the lab!”