The Omega Theory (3 page)

“Your international network didn’t stop the Iranians from building their nuke,” he continued. “They seem to have ignored all your marvelous outreach efforts.”

Jacob stepped past the other standees and walked down the central aisle of the lecture hall, banging the end of his cane on the varnished floor. As he came closer David noticed his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, and the liver spots on his nearly bald head. Jacob had leukemia, diagnosed shortly before he went to Maryland. What made the sight even sadder was the fact that twenty years before, when he and David were grad students in Columbia’s physics department, Jacob had been a phenomenal athlete. He’d demolished David every time they’d played basketball, even though he didn’t really care for the sport. The only thing he cared about was physics.

“Don’t get me wrong, David. I admire your ideals. But ideals are useless when you’re dealing with terrorists. While you’ve been making your declarations of peace and friendship, the thugs of the world have been sharpening their knives.”

David took a deep breath. Even before Jacob left Columbia, their friendship had died. They’d drifted apart after David flunked out of the physics program and decided to pursue a Ph.D. in history instead. But they’d once been quite close, and now this made it difficult to respond to him in a professional way. “Today was a setback, no question about it,” David said. “But peace is a long-term project. Right now we’re trying to make connections and establish relationships. And we hope that in time our members will become advocates for peace in all countries.”

Jacob came down the aisle until he stood just a few feet in front of David’s lectern. Then, without changing his pained expression, he let out a loud, derisive “HA!”

“That’s heartwarming, David. A beautiful dream. But unfortunately we can’t sit around and wait for your utopia to materialize. Now that the Iranians have tested their weapon, they’re going to work on miniaturizing the warhead until it’s small enough to fit on one of their ballistic missiles, or in a suitcase carried by one of their jihadis. By the time you finish assembling your network of enlightened scientists, half of the Middle East will be a radioactive wasteland. And maybe parts of the United States as well.”

The lecture hall went silent. David sensed that the crowd didn’t know what to make of Jacob Steele. He was a loner, a professor who rarely attended academic conferences and never collaborated with other physicists. His published papers—primarily in the fields of quantum computing and information theory—were brilliant but not very well known. And his unhealthy appearance was enough to give anyone pause. David felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Although he opposed Jacob’s political views, David didn’t want to argue with him. “Well, what should we do, then? Abandon all attempts at communication? If that’s not the solution, then what is?”

Jacob turned around, pivoting unsteadily on his cane, so that he could address the audience directly. “We should eliminate the threat. Launch an immediate strike against Iran’s uranium-enrichment complex in Natanz. At the same time, destroy all their nuclear labs and missile installations. Decimate their air force and decapitate their military leadership. It’s the only solution that makes sense. We should’ve done it years ago.”

This was too much for the other physicists. Dozens of them jumped out of their seats and started shouting. For a crowd of peace-loving scientists, their reactions were remarkably harsh. The Nobel laureates seemed particularly incensed. Dr. Hirsch, the superconductivity expert, pointed at Jacob.

“That’s insane!” he yelled. His face had turned pink. “The whole Muslim world would rise against us! Not to mention the Russians and the Chinese! It would start World War Three!”

Soon the lecture hall was ringing with denunciations. But Jacob, to David’s surprise, didn’t say anything in his own defense. Instead, he turned away from the crowd, pivoting on his cane again. He stepped up to the lectern and leaned toward David.

“We need to talk.” Jacob had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Right now.”

“What?” David was bewildered. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry for instigating this little scene in front of your pacifist colleagues, but I had no choice. I arrived here just as you started your speech and I couldn’t wait for you to finish.”

“Dr. Swift! Dr. Swift!” It was Hirsch again, waving at David to get his attention. He’d barreled his way past the other scientists in the third row and now stood in the aisle, still pointing at Jacob. “I want to respond to this madman!”

David held out his hands, palms forward, like a traffic cop. “Hold on! Everyone will get a chance to—”

“And I want to make an announcement, too!” Hirsch held up his iPhone. “I just received word that the Union of Concerned Scientists has issued a statement about the Iranian nuclear test. Could I borrow the microphone so I can read it to everyone?”

David sighed. It was impossible to run an orderly meeting of physicists. There was too much intellectual entropy in the room. Meanwhile, Jacob leaned a little closer. “Let the old fool read his statement,” he whispered. “We can talk in the hallway.”

For a moment David just stared at Jacob’s ruined face. Then he turned back to Hirsch. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

While the Nobel laureate approached the lectern, David and Jacob retreated to the left side of the room. They came to an exit and Jacob grunted as he pushed the door open. David followed him into the dimly lit corridor that separated the lecture hall from the lab that had once housed Columbia’s cyclotron.

Breathing heavily, Jacob leaned on his cane in the center of the corridor. “I find it odd that you’ve become a peacenik, David. You certainly weren’t one in graduate school. In fact, I can recall several occasions when you were downright belligerent.”

Back in grad school Jacob had been fond of practical jokes, and now David wondered if his old friend had interrupted the conference for his own amusement. But on second thought, it seemed unlikely. Jacob played tricks only on his friends, and he and David weren’t friends anymore. “So this is what you wanted to talk about?” David asked. “This is why you interrupted me?”

“I remember one night in particular when you got into an argument at the West End Bar with someone from the mathematics department. We had to pin you to the floor to stop you from killing him.”

David didn’t remember the incident. He’d had a drinking problem in graduate school and his memories of those years were spotty. He’d hit bottom after Columbia kicked him out of its physics program. He spent three agonizing months in rehab before he sobered up and switched to the history department. Although he couldn’t recall the details of his long drinking binge now, the feelings of shame and failure had stayed with him. He’d done far worse things than throw a punch at a mathematician. “In case you didn’t notice, Jacob, I’m in the middle of running a conference here. We can talk about the good old days when I’m done, all right?”

“No, this can’t wait. Did you listen carefully to the news reports of the Iranian test?”

“Of course. I—”

“Then you must’ve heard what the Pentagon said about the timing of the explosion. It occurred this afternoon at one o’clock Eastern Daylight Time.”

“Yes, yes, I heard. They probably detected it with their seismic monitors. A nuclear explosion produces a distinctive seismic rumble. Very different from an earthquake.”

“Well, I also detected the explosion this afternoon, at exactly one o’clock. But not with seismic monitors. That’s why I’m here, David. After I saw the data from the Caduceus Array, I caught the next flight to New York. This isn’t the kind of thing we can discuss over the phone.”

“Caduceus?” David knew what the word meant—it was the ancient symbol of Mercury, the Roman messenger god, who carried a staff with two snakes twined around it—but he had no idea what Jacob was referring to. “What the hell is the Caduceus Array?”

“I need to speak with Monique Reynolds, too. You’re both involved in this.”

“Whoa, wait a second—”

“I told you, this can’t wait.” His voice echoed in the hallway. “Where’s Dr. Reynolds? You do know how to locate your own wife, don’t you?”

“Yeah, she’s in the computer lab, running a simulation.”

“Get her on the phone. Tell her to drop whatever she’s doing and come here immediately.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you need us?”

“You know why.” Jacob’s eyes locked on him. “You and Dr. Reynolds have information that no one else has.”

David felt an uneasy prickle in his stomach. “Look, what are you trying to—”

“You can’t keep it a secret forever, David. The physics community is like a small town, so there’s always going to be gossip. Especially about the
Einheitliche Feldtheorie
.”

David froze. At first he wondered if he’d misheard Jacob, but the sound of the German was unmistakable.
Einheitliche Feldtheorie
meant “unified field theory.” Jacob was referring to Albert Einstein’s last discovery, the elegant, all-encompassing Theory of Everything that the great physicist had formulated near the end of his life but never revealed to the world because he’d realized how dangerous it was. David and Monique had unearthed the theory two years ago and then, for the sake of humanity, buried it again. Somehow, despite all their precautions, Jacob had gotten wind of it.

David shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please don’t play dumb. Especially not now. The event that took place in Iran this afternoon was much more than a nuclear test. The Caduceus Array detected a disruption in spacetime, originating at the test site in the Kavir Desert and spreading outward at the speed of light. In layman’s terms, it was a rip in the fabric of reality. It severed the continuity of our universe, tearing apart the dimensions of space and time for the briefest of instants and then splicing them back together. Needless to say, this hasn’t occurred in any previous nuclear explosion. In fact, it hasn’t occurred anywhere in the universe before, not since the Big Bang started fourteen billion years ago.”

David’s stomach was roiling now. He still didn’t understand what Jacob was saying, but he could hear his dismay. And Jacob wasn’t easily dismayed. “Wait, slow down,” David said. “If there was a rip in the fabric of the universe this afternoon, how come I didn’t notice anything?”

“Fortunately, the anomalies were fleeting. They lasted less than a trillionth of a second, which is why no one felt the disturbance and no laboratory but mine detected it. But a larger disruption could trigger a catastrophe. It could bring down the whole system.” Jacob was motionless, absolutely still. Even his eyes had stopped moving. “Someone is deliberately tampering with spacetime. We need to pool our knowledge to have any hope of stopping this.”

David felt dizzy. This was the moment he’d been dreading for the past two years. The
Einheitliche Feldtheorie
revealed the fundamental nature of reality, showing how all the particles and forces in the universe originate from the convoluted folds of spacetime. But the theory also showed how spacetime could be manipulated to release the immense energies contained in those folds. If someone had managed to rediscover the equations . . .

“All right,” David said. “You got my attention. I want to know everything about this Caduceus Array. What did you—”

A loud thump interrupted him. The doors to the lecture hall burst open. David expected to see Dr. Hirsch come running into the corridor to report that open warfare had broken out at the Physicists for Peace conference. Instead he saw a heavyset, sixtyish woman in a red jacket, accompanied by a man wearing a gray suit and sunglasses. FBI special agent Lucille Parker’s face had grown a little more weathered since David had last seen her, with a few more lines across her forehead and wrinkles around her eyes. But she still moved like a Marine going into battle, rushing forward under her helmet of platinum-blond hair. “Swift!” she shouted. “You’re coming with us.”

Lucille and the other agent cornered David, each grabbing one of his elbows. He tried to break free, but they held on tight. “What are you doing?” he shouted. “What’s going on?”

She frowned. “Bad news. About Michael.”

LUKAS STOOD AT THE BACK OF THE LECTURE HALL, BLENDING IN WITH THE
crowd. He’d bought a suit for the occasion, a cheap blue pinstripe, and under the jacket was a Heckler & Koch pistol in a shoulder holster. The assignment was simple enough. There were no security guards or metal detectors in the building. The only problem was the timing. Lukas was supposed to complete his mission at approximately the same time the other teams finished theirs, but he couldn’t take out his target in front of all the scientists in the lecture hall. So he had to wait. To pass the time, he recited the Lord’s Prayer, mouthing the Latin words under his breath:
Pater noster, qui est in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum
. . .

Luckily, after a few minutes his target left the room. Lukas slipped out a different exit and took up position near the staircase, flattening himself against the wall and peering down the corridor. It was a good place to do the job. The hallway was dark and there was only one witness who needed to be eliminated. Lukas reached into his new jacket, removed the Heckler & Koch, and quietly attached the silencer. But just as he raised his gun, the doors to the lecture hall opened and two more people stepped into the corridor. One was a standard-issue FBI agent. The other was some kind of supervisor, a big ugly brute of a woman. Lukas quickly stepped backward, retreating into an alcove.

This is unfortunate, he thought. He didn’t want a firefight. But he was a veteran of the Delta Force, the U.S. Army’s elite counterterrorism unit, so he was ready for combat. Over two decades he’d taken out dozens of targets in Somalia, Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan, and he’d lost none of his skills in the three years since he’d heard the Lord’s call. The FBI agents stood with their backs to him, so he knew he could kill both of them before they drew their guns. He raised his pistol, lining up the gun sights with the old woman’s hairdo. Always eliminate the commander first, that’s what they’d taught him.