The Devil Colony (10 page)

He glanced up to her as she reached the door.

“Something’s stirred up a hornet’s nest,” she said. “Right here in your own backyard. Something big. It may be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

“How so?”

“Twelve days ago, every feeler I’ve been extending around the globe suddenly jangled. A veritable earthquake. In its wake, every contact I’ve been grooming went dead silent.”

Twelve days ago . . .

Gray realized that this time frame coincided with the day the Native American boy had been killed out in Utah. Could there be a connection?

Seichan continued: “Something big has piqued the Guild’s interest. And that earthquake I mentioned . . . its epicenter is here in D.C.” She faced him from the door. “Even now, I can sense unseen forces mobilizing into position. And it’s during such chaos that sealed doors get cracked open, just long enough for bits of intel to blow out.”

Gray noted her eyes sparking, her breathing sharpening with excitement. “You found something.”

She pointed again at the papers in his hand. “It starts there.”

He stared again at the symbol on the top page.

It was the Great Seal of the United States.

He didn’t understand. He flipped over the next pages. They were a mix of typed research notes, sketches, and photocopies of an old handwritten letter. Though the letter’s ink was faded, the cursive script was precise, written in French. He read the name to which the letter was addressed,
Archard Fortescue
. Definitely sounded French. But it was the signature at the end, the signature of the man who wrote the letter, that truly caught Gray’s attention, a name known to every schoolchild in America.

Benjamin Franklin.

He frowned at the name, then at Seichan. “What do these papers have to do with the Guild?”

“You and Crowe told me to find the true source of those bastards.” Seichan turned and pulled open the door. He noted a flicker of fear pass over her features before she looked away. “You’re not going to like what I found.”

He stepped toward her, drawn as much by her anxiety as by his own curiosity. “What did you find?”

She answered as she stepped out into the night. “The Guild . . . it goes all the way back to the founding of America.”

Chapter 6

May 31, 6:24
A.M.
Gifu Prefecture, Japan

The data made no sense.

Jun Yoshida sat in his office at Kamioka Observatory. He stared at the computer monitor, ignoring the aching crick in his back.

The source of the data on the screen came from a thousand meters below his feet, at the heart of Mount Ikeno. Buried far underground, shielded from cosmic rays that could interfere with detecting the elusive subatomic particles, rested the Super-Kamiokande detector, a forty-meter-tall stainless-steel tank filled with fifty thousand tons of ultrapure water. The purpose of the massive facility was to study one of the smallest particles in the universe, the neutrino—a subatomic particle so small that it held no electrical charge and contained almost no mass, so tiny it could pass through solid matter without disturbing it.

Neutrinos continually shot straight through the earth from space. Sixty billion passed through a person’s fingertip every second. They were one of the fundamental particles of the universe, yet they remained a mystery to modern physics.

Belowground, the Super-Kamiokande detector sought to record and study those elusive passing particles. On rare occasions, a neutrino would collide with a molecule—in the detector’s case, a
water
molecule. The impact shattered the nucleus and emitted a blue cone of light. It took absolute darkness to detect that brief, infinitesimally small burst of light. To catch it, thirteen thousand photomultiplier tubes lined the massive water tank, peering into that pitch-black tank, ready to mark the passage of a neutrino.

Still, even with such a huge shielded facility, it was a challenge to find those particles. The number of neutrinos captured by the photomultipliers had held at a fairly steady pace over the course of the year—which was why the data on the monitor confounded him.

Jun stared at the graph on the screen. It displayed neutrino activity over the past half day.

He ran a finger across the screen, tracing the graph. His fingertip spiked up as it reached the three o’clock hour this morning. It marked a sudden and massive burst of neutrinos that occurred three hours ago, a level never recorded before.

It has to be a lab error. A glitch of some kind.

For the past three hours, the entire facility had been troubleshooting every piece of equipment and electronics. Next month, his team was scheduled for a joint experiment with CERN, a Swiss facility.

If that had to be canceled—

He stood up to stretch his aching back and crossed to his window. He loved the light at this early hour, perfect for photography, a hobby of his. Adorning his walls were pictures he’d taken of Mount Fuji at sunrise, reflecting in Lake Kawaguchi, another of the Nara Pagoda set against a backdrop of fiery maples, or his favorite, a picture of Shiraito Falls in winter, with skeletal ice-encased trees scattering the morning light into rainbows.

Beyond his window was the less picturesque landscape of the observatory campus, but a small water garden lay below, alongside a raked and swept Zen garden, swirling around a tall craggy rock. He often felt like that rock, standing alone, bent-backed, swirled by life around him.

Interrupting his reverie, the door swung open behind him. A leggy blond colleague, Dr. Janice Cooper, a postgraduate student from Stanford, strode swiftly into the room. She was thirty years younger than Jun, as thin as Jun was round. She always smelled of coconut oil and carried herself as if she were about to bound away, too full of California sunshine to sit still.

Sometimes her simple presence exhausted him.

“Dr. Yoshida!” she said, out of breath as if she had been running. “I just heard from the Sudbury Neutrino Observatory in Canada and from the IceCube facility in Antarctica. They’ve all recorded massive spikes of neutrinos at the same moment in time as we did.”

Clearly she wanted to say more, but Jun held up a hand, needing a moment to think, to let out a sigh of relief. So the data wasn’t a glitch. That solved one mystery—but on its tail rode another more disturbing question: What then was the
source
for such a colossal blast of neutrinos? The birth of a supernova deep in space? A massive solar flare?

As if reading his mind, Dr. Cooper spoke again. “Riku asked if you’d join him down below. He believes he knows a way to pinpoint the source of the neutrino surge. He was still working on that when I left.”

Jun didn’t have time for the eccentricities of Dr. Riku Tanaka. With clear proof that the spike in neutrinos was not the result of a fault in their systems, he felt the mystery could wait a few hours. He’d been up all night, and at sixty-three years of age, he was no young man.

“He was insistent,” Dr. Cooper pressed. “Said it was important.”

“Everything’s important with Dr. Tanaka,” he mumbled under his breath, not bothering to hide his disdain.

Still, a bit of excitement entered Dr. Cooper’s voice. “Riku believes the neutrinos might be
geoneutrinos
.”

He looked sharply at her. “That’s impossible.”

Most neutrinos came from the background radiation of the universe: from solar flares, from dying stars, from collapsing galaxies. But some neutrinos—called
geoneutrinos
—originated from the earth itself: from decaying isotopes in the ground, from cosmic rays striking the upper atmosphere, even from the explosion of atomic bombs.

“That’s what Riku believes,” she insisted.

“Nonsense. It would take the equivalent of a hundred hydrogen bombs to generate a neutrino blast of this magnitude.”

Jun crossed toward the door, moving too suddenly. Pain jolted up his right leg, a flare of sciatica.

Maybe I’d better get down there.

The desire came not so much from a need to find out if Dr. Tanaka was right, but from a wish to prove that the young physicist was wrong. It would be a rare failing, one Jun didn’t want to miss.

Remaining behind to finish her own work, Dr. Cooper held the door for him. He did his best to hide his hobble as he marched out the door and headed for the elevator that descended from the topside offices to the subterranean labs. The elevator shaft was new. Prior to its construction, the only access to the mountain’s heart was via a truck tunnel or mine train. While this approach was swifter, it was also unnerving.

The cage dropped like a falling boulder, lifting his stomach into his throat. Plagued by claustrophobia, he was all too aware of the meters of rock rising over his head. When at last he reached the bottom of the shaft, the doors opened into the main control room for the detector. Divided into cubicles and offices, it looked like any laboratory on the surface.

But Jun wasn’t fooled.

As he stepped out of the elevator, he kept his back hunched, sensing the weight of Mount Ikenoyama above him. He found the shift-duty physicist standing beside a wall-mounted LED monitor near the back of the main hall.

Dr. Riku Tanaka was barely into his twenties, hardly over five feet in height. The wunderkind of physics held dual doctorates and was here working on his third.

At the moment the young man stood stiffly, hands behind his back, staring at a spinning map of the globe. Trails of data flowed in columns down the left half of the screen.

Tanaka held his head cocked, as if listening intently to some sound only he could hear, whispers that perhaps held the answers to the universe’s secrets.

“The results are intriguing,” he said, not even turning, perhaps catching Jun’s reflection in one of the dark monitors to the side.

Jun frowned at the lack of simple courtesy. No bow of greeting, no acknowledgment of the hardship of his coming down here. It was said the young man suffered from Asperger’s syndrome, a mild form of autism. But Jun personally believed his colleague was simply rude and used such a diagnosis as an excuse.

Jun joined him at the monitor and treated him as brusquely. “What results?”

“I’ve been gathering data from neutrino labs around the world. From the Russians at Lake Baikal, from the Americans at Los Alamos, from the Brits at Sudbury Observatory.”

“I’ve heard,” Jun said. “They all recorded the spike in neutrinos.”

“I had those other labs send me their data.” Tanaka nodded to the scrolling columns. “Neutrinos travel in a straight line from the source of their creation. Neither gravity nor magnetic fields deflect their path.”

Jun bristled. He didn’t need to be lectured on such fundamentals.

Tanaka seemed unaware of the affront and continued: “So it seemed a simple matter to use that data from various points around the globe and triangulate the primary source of the blast.”

Jun blinked in surprise. It was such a simple solution. His face flushed. As director here, he should have thought of that himself.

“I’ve run the program four times, refining the search parameters with each pass. The source definitely appears to be terrestrial.”

Tanaka tapped at a keyboard below the monitor. On the screen, a narrowing set of crosshairs fixed to the globe. First, encompassing the Western Hemisphere, then North America, then the western half of the United States. With a final few taps, the crosshairs sharpened and the global image zoomed into a section of the Rocky Mountains.

“Here is the source.”

Jun read the territory highlighted on the screen.

Utah.

“How could that be?” he choked out, finding it hard to fathom these impossible results. He remembered his earlier words with Dr. Cooper, how it would take a hundred hydrogen bombs to generate a neutrino blast of this magnitude.

At his side, Tanaka shrugged, his manner insufferably calm. Jun restrained a desire to slap the man, to get a reaction out of him. Instead, he stared at the screen, at the topography of the mountains, with a single question foremost in his mind.