The Lucifer Sanction (8 page)

Le Blanc added, “Our intervention at this time
would most certainly prove fatal.”
As Blake hovered over the second container,
Francois la Blanc placed a hand on his shoulder. “And here
we have our second traveler, Dominic Moreau.”
Blake leaned in a little nearer, swallowed hard and
read the nameplate affixed to the chamber. “Yeah, that’s
what it says here, Dominic Moreau.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
Particle Accelerant Chambers
March 25
10.22 P: M

Beckman entered the room, waved a hand across
the caskets and motioned at the vacant particle chambers.
“Good evening, as you see we are monitoring our two
travelers.” He passed a nod to Bosch. “Hans, you have
explained the accelerant chambers to our group?”

Bosch gave his heels a slight click.
Blake’s uneasiness showed. He wiped the back
of one hand across his nose and then scratched at an
eyebrow just as Beckman placed a hand on his shoulder
and whispered, “I fully understand your apprehension my
friend, but please - realize we have considered many people
for the undertaking of this mission and Libra’s decision
was not made lightly.”
He sensed Blake’s uneasiness at the hand on his
shoulder. He released the grip and turned away. “Nor was
the decision made in haste,’ he said and slipped a sideways
glance at Bosch. “We are most prudent in how and when we
are able to pass on information regarding our technology,
our prudence may seem obsessive but believe me - our
competitors are ruthless in their pursuit. Fortunately for
our program, our major competition has experienced
several setbacks, or rather - regretful fatalities among its
travelers.”
There was a moment of silence during which Blake
pictured himself drifting in cyberspace. “Fatalities?” he
asked with a contorted face. “Don’t we get a return ticket
on this excursion?”
Beckman appeared guarded in his response. “Oh,
they came back, but the sub-atomic transference was, eh . .
. what we call
severely distorted
.”
Blake shifted his position until eye to eye
with Beckman. “What the fuck’s that mean -
severely
distorted
?”
“Imagine a facsimile,” Beckman said as he edged
away from Blake. “You set it onto the plate of your
machine and you transmit. It arrives at its destination as an
exact duplicate of the original, which remains in your fax
machine.” Again he waved a casual hand toward the two
cylinders. “Just like these two gentlemen. They are lying in
their ‘facsimile machines.’”
“Sounds like your ability’s highly questionable,”
Blake said. “Like you’re holding back on us.”
Beckman hesitated. It was best to be candid with
Blake. He could see the agent was not at the front of the
queue when God handed out patience.
“If the receiver,” Beckman explained, “sends
a copy of the original back to you but your machine’s
receptor is malfunctioning, you may hear the activation
of the machine alerting you to the incoming transmission,
however when it attempts atomic restructuring, well, the
result is misalignment.”
“Misalignment?” Dal groped.
“Quite so, reading it becomes impossible. The
transcription is out of alignment; the text is jumbled. It is
misaligned.”
As the sick feeling began building deep in Dal’s
stomach, he shuffled his feet and moaned, “I need the
restroom.”
Bosch pointed to a door and Dal hurried off with
both hands clenching his stomach.
“He appears unwell,” Beckman commented with
insincerity.
“What the hell are we getting ourselves into here?”
Blake asked. “I understand our going back to the 14th
century,” and he pointed at Bosch. “Hans here explained
how we get back, but seeing these two sleeping beauties
just lying here waiting, well – it puts a nasty taste in my
mouth.”
“Understandably so,” Beckman replied. “But please
accompany me to a more comfortable setting. Perhaps we
three can explain exactly what your task entails in uh -
somewhat layman’s terms.”
Dal rejoined the group. They moved on to a room
far more eclectically decorated than the sterile areas within
the facility. Of note were two sofas of Chesterfield design
separated by a Louis XIV table.
“I have to tell you guys,” Blake said still deep in
thought and ignoring the décor, “this isn’t sitting too well
with any of us.”
Beckman said, “Allow me to begin by explaining the
theory of how you will arrive at your coordinates. I assume
my colleague...” and his tone became condescending as he
flipped a casual thumb over his shoulder, “...explained the
purpose of the three empty chambers.” He handed Blake
five small discs. “These converter discs are of paramount
importance, never misplace them. You have one each, three
green ones. The additional two red discs are for Campion
and Moreau. We must assume their discs are malfunctioning.
I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of these
discs – they are your ticket back to this facility.”
“Hold that thought,” Blake said. “I recall hearing a
guarantee from you, you said because you’re here now –
didn’t you say words to that affect?”
“Quite so, the men in the particle chambers, you
saw them, they are here now, are they not?”
“Yeah, they sound like the words.”
Bell had been nervous throughout the discussion.
Seated some ten feet from Blake, she leaned forward, ran
her hands down to her ankles and dropped her head between
her knees. Blake and Bell simultaneously groaned, and
Dal rolled his head from one side to the other causing his
vertebrae to let out a cracking sound.
Beckman grinned as he placed a consoling hand on
Dal’s shoulder. “The comfort level inside your chamber
will be pleasant and pain free. You will have no conscious
awareness of the process.”
There was a moment of silence. Blake turned and
saw Bell sitting with her head between her knees and asked,
“You okay, Bell?”
“Depends on your interpretation of
okay
.”
Blake gazed at Dal and wondered if he should just
tell Beckman to take the assignment and...
Beckman felt Bosch’s glare. He cleared his throat
and continued. “During transmission you’ll be disassembled
into pixels. This is accomplished by reflecting your images
through multiple lenses positioned along the inner lid and
sides of your chamber. The lenses are focused to a charged
coupling device that converts your images into electrical
current. The interior walls of each chamber are constructed
with multiple curved mirrors. These mirrors prevent you
from seeing out but we can see in . . . just as you were able
to see the two suspended travelers. It will be as though you
are simply resting. Once inside your chamber you will enter
a process known as sub-atomic conversion. Signals will be
modulated and transmitted into the parallel universe - to
your pre-set coordinates. The green disc you each carry is
pre-programmed. When the time is right you will activate
the recall function and we will transfer you back to your
chamber.”
“You mean . . . just like those two guys?” Dal
asked. The question went unanswered. “And another thing
– what’s with all this pixel shit?” And Dal made another
hurried exit to the rest room.
Beckman waited for Dal to leave, refocused on
Blake and Bell. “As you have been told, your primary task
is to locate Moreau and Campion, give each man a disc and
secure the Lucifer ampoules. Do you have questions?”
Bosch stared at Blake; a cold stare that lingered for
several long moments. When no move came from Blake,
he shifted his stare to Bell in anticipation of a reaction.
None came – the time for
reaction
had long gone.
“Agent Blake, we know our universe is not four
dimensional, that it does not consist of three spaces plus
a time dimension, and that it indeed hosts numerous
other dimensions. The theory of relativity or of quantum
mechanics revolutionized our way of thinking, and Libra’s
research into the existence of extra dimensions has been a
major milestone in developing fuller understanding of the
universe. As a result of this, our obvious application has
been - time travel.”
Beckman gave Bosch a reprieve. “Contemporary
neighbors of ours known as CERNA whose primary work
involves the production of micro black holes, have built
a Super Large Hadron Collider in a circular tunnel thirty
miles in circumference. It is buried around three hundred
feet underground and straddles the borders of France
and Switzerland on the outskirts of Geneva. We consider
the direction in which they are moving to be a possible
doomsday scenario. Although according to a report prepared
by the Executive Committee of the Division of Particles &
Fields of the American Physical Society, the LHC particle
collisions pose no conceivable threat. CERNA mandated a
group of independent scientists to review these scenarios.
They concluded that, like current particle experiments such
as the Relativistic Heavy Ion Collider, the LHC particle
collisions actually pose no conceivable threat. A second
review of the evidence commissioned by CERNA was
released in 2008. Our physicists have studied copies of the
reports and our conclusions are somewhat skeptical. With
our research we have circumvented certain areas of their
fundamental theorem.”
Beckman heard approaching footsteps. He halfturned, glanced over his shoulder and mumbled a few
incoherent words. “As a result, we have our nose well in
front of CERNA as the goal draws nearer.”
Dal returned looking a little washed out. He sat
alongside Bellinger as Bosch took over from his associate.
“CERNA aims at increasing the functional capacity of
their machine by a factor of 10 to 1035 cm−2s−1. And yes,
we agree this will provide far better chances to see rare
processes and improve statistic marginal measurements.”
He paused briefly, allowing Blake to strut his
minimal scientific acumen. “Yeah, I’ve heard about
CERNA’s work, but I thought they’d reached a peak with
their Large Hadron Collider.”
Sam added, “But isn’t their level of research to be
expected of an institution with their kind of backing? The
people behind CERNA receive enough annually to fund a
super version of the contraption, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Bosch replied, failing to disguise his tone.
“There are so many different paths that exist for upgrading
their Collider program, Mr. Ridkin and their funding
is limitless. CERNA maintains a collection of different
designs of the high luminosity interaction regions. They
held a workshop in 2006 to establish which options would
be the most promising machine parameters - they produced
amazing results.”
Sam analyzed Bosch’s praise of the competitor as
being
one of skepticism,
rather than admiration.
Bosch continued. “Concerns have been raised in
the media, on the Internet and through the law courts about
the safety of the particle physics experiments planned
by CERNA. As far as the world knows, their LHC is the
world’s largest and highest-energy particle accelerator. We
have carefully guarded our program and we prefer it stay
that way.”
“Hmm, so CERNA’s done well,” Blake said in
a doubting tone. “And your particle chamber’s more
advanced than theirs?”
Beckman replied, “At this point I see no reason
to withhold confidential material from you.” He looked
to Bosch, at Danzig, and received a nod from each. “We
were concerned the physicists at CERNA’s Geneva facility
were outpacing our own particle work. Unfortunately,
our compatriots experienced a small problem last year.”
His delivery switched to one of cynicism. “During a
powering test of the main dipole circuit, a fault occurred
in the electrical bus connection. It resulted in mechanical
damage and the release of helium from the magnetic cold
mass. Thankfully, with proper safety procedures in place,
CERNA personnel were never at risk.”
“Did they suspect you guys at Libra were behind
the, uh - behind the accident?” Sam asked.
“Investigations within CERNA
are still being
conducted,” Beckman replied. “The complete findings will
be reported at a later date. They are experiencing difficulties
reducing the beams inside their chambers, the beams moved
around the internal mirrored enclosure in which their, uh .
. . in which their subjects were suspended in a continuous
vacuum guided by a magnetic field . . . superconducting
magnets cooled by a huge cryogenics system.”
Dal, Blake and Bell turned and stared hard at Sam,
each assuming he was following the discussion. Sam kept a
serious demeanor, leading them to believe he was on track
with Beckman’s scientific jargon.
“Cables conduct current without resistance in their
superconducting state, but the beams that were meant to be
stored at high energy levels for hours . . . well, they uh . .
.” Beckman took a long break as though searching out the
least incriminating words. “Well, what can I say . . . they
malfunctioned.”
“Malfunctioned?” Sam asked.
“Yes, a malfunction that resulted in collisions inside
CERNA’s chamber.” He paused, allowed a guilt ridden
smile to escape. “It uh - resulted in a temporary cessation
of their program . . . such a pity.”
“What of
your
program,” Blake inquired. “Any uh,
pity
with it?”
“Well yes actually, initially we had setbacks. We
transferred a few subjects out there.”
“Out there?” Dal groaned.
Bosch was hesitant. “Hmm, yes, unfortunately uh .
. . out there in another time, probably misaligned.”
“Maybe dead?” Dal groaned.
“At this time, hmm,” Bosch sighed as he nodded,
“yes, actually quite possibly deceased.”
Bell asked, “Your subjects . . . they were human?”
“They were uh,” and Bosch slid a quick glance to
Beckman. “They were large laboratory specimens.”
“Large specimens?” Bell asked in a concerned
tone.
“As cold-hearted at it may appear, Miss Bellinger,”
Bosch said in an attempt to justify Libra’s actions, “you
must realize we are attempting to improve this century’s
standard of living.”
“I realize that,” Bell said. “But precisely what
subjects did you people send out there?”
The doctor bit down on his lip while Beckman’s
eyes gazed innocently at his shoes. Paul Danzig made an
infrequent contribution to the discussion. “Abandoned
dogs,” Danzig said. “Animals scheduled for euthanizing at
the city pound.”
Bell
shuddered.
She
gave
Sam
a
look
of
disapproval.