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Authors: Douglas E. Richards

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BOOK: AMPED
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He had tried to get the woman to tell him what the consulting engagement would entail, but she had only assured him he wouldn’t need to prepare and he was the right man for the job. When he had asked for the center’s address, he had been told not to worry: that a driver would meet him at the airport and make sure he was taken the rest of the way to the facility in comfort.

A quick Internet search revealed a very professional webpage that spoke of the think tank’s mission—to extend the boundaries of human knowledge—and the large endowment it had received from anonymous donors. Other than this, there was not a single mention of CREX anywhere else online. Hard to imagine a think tank with such a professional website and money to burn wasn’t mentioned
somewhere
. If he’d Googled the name of the kid who bagged his groceries he’d probably get a dozen hits. In addition, the website didn’t have a “contact us” page, nor could an address be found anywhere.

Curioser and curioser.

He had considered backing out, but decided this would be an overreaction. It was no crime if a think tank backed by anonymous donors wanted to keep a low profile, and he was certain there were any number of perfectly legitimate reasons for wanting to do so.

His mind returned to the present, where the driver was leading him through a busy parking lot. The man stopped beside a silver industrial van, with no windows on the sides or back and no descriptors of any kind stenciled on. Van Hutten might have expected their facility to be depicted on the van, or at the very least the words, “Center for Research Excellence,” but once again they had decided to keep a low profile. At least they were consistent.

The driver opened the side doors. “Do you need a hand up, sir?” he asked.

Van Hutten hesitated. He liked the idea of being able to see where he was going, and the back of the van was a self-contained compartment that offered no means to do so. He opened his mouth to ask if he could sit in the passenger seat in front when he noticed it was unavailable—several large computer monitors had been carefully placed on the seat and floor. He frowned. “No, I can make it,” he said. “I’m not that old yet,” he added with a forced smile as he stepped into the van.

It was beautifully appointed, as luxurious and elegant as the inside of a high-end limousine, except more spacious. The ride was smooth and remarkably noiseless. Thirty minutes later the van wound up inside a small, underground parking lot and the driver led him through a door into what looked to be a newly built and very modern office building.

As he entered he was immediately met by a three person welcoming party. The first of these was a bear of a man who towered over all the others. He had long wavy hair and a bushy brown beard, and must have weighed three hundred pounds—although he was far from obese, just a land mass of his own. “Matt Griffin,” he said, sticking out a massive paw that looked capable of grinding van Hutten’s hand to paste, but which was soft and gentle as they shook. “It is a rare privilege and honor, sir,” added the human mountain, his voice as erudite and proper as the stodgiest Harvard professor.

“Thank you,” replied van Hutten as the man next to Griffin stuck out his hand. He was the oldest of the welcoming committee. His features were angular, his hair and mustache neatly trimmed, and he had a distinct military bearing about him, much like the driver.

“Jim Connelly,” said the older man as they shook hands. “Welcome to our facility.”

“Glad to be here.”

For the first time van Hutten turned his attention to the lone woman in the group, who had been partially hidden behind the gentle giant calling himself Matt Griffin, and his breath caught in his throat. She was absolutely
stunning
. She flashed him a dazzling, sincere smile that added even further to her appeal. Just standing there, doing nothing, she had a force of personality, a radiance, that was magnetic. His eyes decided they were quite content to rest on her for long periods of time and would not be easily coaxed to move on.

“Thank you so much for coming, Dr. van Hutten,” she said as she shook his hand, her hand and wrist delicate but strong.

“Please . . . everyone. Anton is fine.”

“Anton it is,” said the woman for them all. “Welcome to The Center for Research Excellence. I assume you recognize my voice.”

“Yes. You were the one who contacted me by phone. Devon, I believe.”

She winced in such a way that it was both devilish and apologetic at the same time. “Well, yes. But I have to say I mislead you about my name. Just in case you weren’t interested, I thought it better to go by Devon. Sorry about that. But no need for any subterfuge now. My name is really Kira. Kira Miller.”

He was already suspicious of this outfit, and this revelation only made him more so. He almost wanted to flee back home now, but a sinking feeling in his gut told him he was past the point of no return. And this woman, who had unabashedly admitted to giving him a false name, wore an expression so open and sincere, and was so clearly enthusiastic about meeting him, that he found himself strangely at ease.

His eyes refused to leave her face until he felt a gentle nudge from behind. The man who had driven him here was still present, and now his hand was outstretched. “I’m part of CREX as well,” he said. “I thought I’d wait until you met the others and then introduce myself properly.”

Van Hutten took the offered hand. He had suspected there was more to this man than met the eye.

“David Desh,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, David.”

Matt Griffin could barely contain his excitement. “You’re
undoubtedly
wondering why you’re here,” he said.

Van Hutten stifled a smile. For some reason he wanted to say, “
undoubtedly
,” in reply, but resisted the urge. “No question about it,” he replied instead.

“Good. We’ll get right to it then,” said Griffin, leading van Hutten and the others toward a conference room at the center of the building.

Kira Miller strode beside the physicist and said, “Just to warn you, some of what we’ll be telling you will seem a little outrageous. We fully expect you to be skeptical at first. All we ask is that you keep an open mind and give us the chance to convince you.”

The queasy feeling in the pit of van Hutten’s stomach returned with a vengeance. “You’ll have my full attention,” he replied.

He had no idea what he was getting into, but if worst came to worst, if they revealed themselves as some kind of quasi-scientific cult—the church of the quantum cosmological spirit or something equally lunatic—he was prepared to humor them: at least until he could remove himself from their company.

“You have me intrigued,” he said, deciding to begin humoring them now, just in case. “It sounds as if today may be more interesting than I thought.”

Kira glanced up at him without replying, but an amused bearing came over the affable giant lumbering next to her. “You have no idea,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “You really have no idea.”

5

 

Colonel Morris “Jake” Jacobson exited the F14 Tomcat that had rocketed him to Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs, and boarded a car that was waiting to take him to a civilian helicopter waiting nearby. Landing a civilian helicopter on a street or field in Denver would attract far more attention than he would like, but not nearly as much as a
military
chopper would attract. The night sky was crystal clear and dense with stars, but this was the last thing on Jake’s mind.

“Give me a situation report, Captain,” he said into his cell phone.

“We found the glass building precisely where you told us it would be, Colonel,” said the special forces captain who had been on scene for some time now. “And the warehouse eighty yards to the east as well. Our teams have established a hundred-yard perimeter around them both. We arrived in civilian vehicles and used maximum discretion during our deployment. We have twenty-four men who are dug in, including four snipers. We’re in an industrial area, poorly lighted, and it’s well after work hours, so our confidence is high we weren’t observed by anyone in the vicinity.”

“And you can confirm that Kira Miller and David Desh are in the building?”

“Yes, sir. I saw them enter with my own eyes. They matched the photos you provided exactly. There’s always the chance one or more of them has a body double, or has altered their appearance as a decoy. But if so, they did a masterful job.”

Jake considered. While
masterful
was well within the capabilities of these two, he believed the chance they were not who they seemed to be was virtually zero in this case. He had broken Rosenblatt, of that he was certain. The physicist had given Jake this location less than seven hours earlier, breaking into tears periodically as he did so and begging him not to hurt his remaining children.

It had been heart wrenching, but Rosenblatt had been beyond the possibility of deceit. And if the captain had seen only one of them, perhaps it was a case of mistaken identity, but both Desh and Miller together entering the building Rosenblatt insisted was their working headquarters was too much of a stretch.

“You’re certain no one has left since they entered?”

“Positive. They’re still in the center of the glass building. Judging from the spacing, it may be a kitchen area, but we believe it’s a conference room. We’ve been reading the heat signatures of five humans for hours.”

Jake searched his mind for anything he might be missing, but came up empty.

He had them
, he thought triumphantly, but the sober part of his nature returned almost immediately to restrain his enthusiasm. From what he understood, they had been in situations just as hopeless before and had slipped the noose. He couldn’t allow himself to be overconfident.

“Thank you Captain Ruiz. I’ll be coming in by civilian helo, with an ETA of about twenty minutes. I’m going to have the pilot land in as secluded a spot as possible about three miles out, just to be certain the sound of the chopper blades doesn’t alert them.”

“Three miles, Colonel? Civilian helos are quieter than military ones.”

Ruiz was correct, but he hadn’t been briefed on the exact nature of what they were dealing with. Who knew what kind of technology Miller and Desh had up their sleeves? Who knew what kind of automated listening devices they might have invented for sniffing out incoming choppers? The more he thought about the capabilities of a group who could amplify their intelligence to levels that made the brightest humans seem like gorillas, the more nervous he became.

“Very true, Captain, but I’d like you to spread the word to the team. While on this op, assume we’re facing hostiles with capabilities and skills even greater than our own. It’s critical that they not be underestimated.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Jake inhaled deeply. It was time. He needed to make several critical decisions, and he needed to make them quickly. The current tactical situation could not be more ideal. But if Miller and the others entered the tunnel to their warehouse the situation would grow more complex and uncertainties would make the op more difficult.

He vowed that whatever it took, he would see to it that Miller and Desh would not slip the noose again.

6

 

Van Hutten and his four escorts arrived at the conference room, which was large and bright and packed with life. Kira loved plants, believing they were both good for the human soul as well as the quality of indoor air, and there were more plants within the facility than could be found in many outdoor gardens. The conference room itself was home to three Chinese fan palms, each of which reached the ceiling, and two amstel-king-braid ficus trees, all potted in round, one-hundred-gallon brushed silver containers that fit with the conference room’s theme of contemporary simplicity.

They took seats around an elegant glass conference table that was shaped like a giant’s surfboard, pointed at a fifty inch monitor on the wall.

Kira studied van Hutten with barely concealed enthusiasm. A physicist of his caliber who had made it through all of their screens was potentially huge for the project. They had told Seth Rosenblatt that van Hutten wasn’t acceptable, but this was part of their security plan to compartmentalize information, especially personnel information, whenever possible. What Rosenblatt didn’t know couldn’t hurt him—or others.

“Anton,” she began. “We really are honored that you could join us. But I’d like to get right to the point. And once again, I’ll ask for your patience and open mindedness. I promise you everything we tell you is completely accurate. And we’ll prove it to you before we’re through.”

Van Hutten’s face tightened, and he looked understandably uneasy, but he just nodded and said nothing.

Kira had always been the type who liked to tear band-aids off swiftly. “I’m a molecular biologist,” she said. “Several years ago I developed a gene therapy. For about an hour at a time, this therapy can boost human intelligence to . . . well, there’s no other way to say it: to immeasurable levels.”

Van Hutten blinked several times as if he had no idea what these words meant. A quizzical expression came over his face. “Immeasurable levels?” he repeated, as if his ears hadn’t been working properly.

Kira nodded. “That’s right.”

She could tell van Hutten was trying hard to remain expressionless, but even so the slightest sneer of disbelief flashed over his face. He glanced at the three men at the table, as if looking for an expression that would confirm that this was an elaborate joke, that he was being put on. She could only imagine what must be going through his head. Was he wondering if this was an initiation rite? If he was being tested to see how he would react? More likely, Kira knew, he probably thought he was in the company of a group of dangerous, delusional zealots.

“The human brain has nearly unlimited potential,” she continued. “But it’s wired for survival rather than pure intelligence. Autistic savants give us a small window into the possibilities. There are autistic savants who can memorize entire phone books in one reading and can multiply ten digit numbers faster than a calculator. What if you could unleash capabilities even greater than these across all areas of thought and creativity?”

BOOK: AMPED
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