Edge of Dawn (22 page)

Richard had confidence in his scientific staff, but a lot was riding on these presentations, so as usual he found it nearly impossible to sleep. He had packed his best suits and selected the blue pinstripe with a deeper blue shirt and a silver-and-blue tie. The hilt was arranged in the holster at his back, and he slung on his shoulder rig. The tailor had done a good job. The fact he was armed would be obvious only to another law enforcement professional. The damn shaved spot and angry cut was annoying, but wounds healed and hair grew. He just had to be patient. Richard knew that was vain, but he also needed all the confidence he could muster.

He headed downstairs to find the owners had laid out an impressive breakfast including old-fashioned johnnycakes. As a native of Rhode Island, Richard took johnnycakes very seriously and had missed the crisp cornmeal cakes since his move to New Mexico. He made a mental note to ask Franz to add them to the breakfast menu back at Lumina headquarters.

Dagmar was next downstairs. He stood and hugged the older woman. Her brown hair was expertly highlighted, and she was dressed in businesswoman chic.

She held him at arm's length and looked him up and down. “You look good. You've gained some weight. But did you sleep?” she added severely.

“No, but the stress will be off after today,” Richard said.

“Famous last words. This is Lumina.”

One by one the others joined them. Gold had become paunchier and balder since Richard had last seen him some six months ago. When Pamela and Mosi came downstairs, Mosi ran to take the seat next to Richard. Her long hair was shimmering blue-black, and she wore a cute short set. Pamela went off to join Gold, the other lawyer in the mix. Kenzo sat with Dagmar, and Weber took the chair to Richard's left, but it was a singularly silent breakfast. Only Cross seemed to have any appetite, and the B and B staff seemed stunned by the amount of food he consumed. Or perhaps the ratty jeans and T-shirt were what really put them off.

At nine, the cars arrived. “Ride with me, Pamela,” Richard said. She cast him a questioning look but joined him and Mosi in the armored Lincoln Town Car. Richard plugged a set of headphones into his phone and handed to it to Mosi. “Listen to some music.”

“You don't want me to hear stuff,” she said, her tone accusatory.

“That's right.”

“I want to hear.”

“Okay,” Richard said. “
Je vous remercie de vous joindre
à
moi,
” he said to Pamela.

Mosi glared at him. “That is no fair! You wouldn't understand if I spoke Navajo!”

“No, I wouldn't, but I'm hoping you will teach me so it can be our own private language.”

She glared at him. “It's real hard,” she warned.

“Then you'll really have to help me.”

Mosi huffed and settled the earbuds into her ears. Richard still continued in French, which he and all of his siblings spoke fluently. “You sent me a text regarding Jorge,” he said.

“Yes. Are you sure about terminating him? We could be opening ourselves up to a lawsuit.”

“Don't worry. He'll be reinstated just as soon as I deal with…”

“What? What are you up to?”

“You ever hear of the Greek Gift Sacrifice?”

“Vaguely.”

“It's a chess move. You deliberately lose a piece in the hope of gaining a tactical or positional advantage. Kenzo and Grenier are actively working against me. I want to draw them out. Lull them into making a move.”

“You know this how?”

“I've become a paranoid bastard, and I have levels of surveillance on Grenier he can only guess at.”

“Like what?” Pamela was eyeing him with both fascination and revulsion.

“The usual, we monitor his phone calls, there's a tracer on his car. That one he found. He leaves it in his garage when he doesn't want me to know where he's going, but there's a tracking device built into his prosthesis.”

“Jesus God. That's … such an incredible violation of privacy. Are you spying on everyone? On me?”

“We're playing for life-and-death stakes here, Pam. There are certain niceties I just can't afford. And yes, I have surveillance on you and Amelia and her family, on a lot of people. We're dealing with monsters, Pamela. Would you prefer I leave you unprotected?”

His sister sat with that for a moment. “All right. I guess I can see that. So what are you going to do?”

“Here's the first step.” Richard opened his briefcase, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and handed them to Pamela.

She frowned at the top page, then flipped through a few more pages. “Richard, they'll kill you for this.”

“One hopes not literally. And if it happens—well, it's all on you, sis. There's no one else I would trust. I'll leave you the company … companies, and you'll have Mosi.”

Pamela put the papers in her briefcase. Her jaw was tight. She cleared her throat. “I guess you did learn a few things from that brief time as a stockbroker,” Pamela said gruffly.

“More than you'll ever know,” Richard replied.

The cars pulled through the gates and down the long driveway to the Lumina research facility. Dr. Eddie Tanaka met them at the front doors. Amazingly, the Japanese American was in a suit and tie. Richard had a hard time reconciling the young T-shirt-and-jeans-wearing scientist with this professional look. Two years ago, Eddie had nearly been killed when Old Ones and human fanatics had attacked a Lumina facility. Now he oversaw Lumina's science division. Richard wondered if he'd done the right thing moving Eddie into administration. Had Richard cost the world a physics breakthrough by doing that? He comforted himself with the knowledge that Eddie still managed a few research projects on the side.

Introductions were made and Eddie handed them all badges. Kenzo stared at his. “Is this really necessary? We're officers of the company, not casual visitors.”

“These are personnel dosimeter film badges. We have an accelerator here,” Eddie replied.

The confusion on the older Japanese man's face was evident. Cross slapped Kenzo on the shoulder as he walked past. “Meaning there's radiation and you might want to know if your nuts are glowing.”

Kenzo blanched. He then snapped a question in Japanese to Eddie. The scientist shrugged and said, “Not a clue, dude. No hablo Japanese-o.” Kenzo looked annoyed.

Eddie led them to a conference room where the scientists had already assembled. Richard hung back. Eddie made a face and gave Richard a fingers-crossed gesture. Richard gave him an encouraging nod, and they entered.

More introductions. Dr. George Driscoll stood by a laptop at one end of the table. On the far wall was a white screen. There was Dr. Milind Ranjan, a round-faced East Indian with a degree in high-energy physics from IIT Bangalore. Dr. Dieter Helman, a German they'd recruited last year. Dr. Brad Delany, formerly of Lawrence/Berkeley. He wasn't much taller than Richard, and his shaggy brown hair and youthful features made him look about twelve. Finally, Dr. Ron Trout, a heavyset man with graying hair and a face pitted with ancient acne scars. He had his feet up on the table and was busily inspecting his toenails revealed by a pair of battered sandals. The scientists were all attired in T-shirts and jeans or khakis, and they didn't look much like a crack scientific team, but then Richard supposed that he didn't look much like a CEO. The smell of coffee and donuts was carried on the current of cool air from the vents.

They took their seats and the presentation began. The energy team hadn't gone so far as to provide the “Blue Danube Waltz” as background, but it was all very reminiscent of the iconic twentieth-century movie
2001: A Space Odyssey.
Richard had feared that Mosi would be bored, but her gaze was riveted on the screen.

“Using robots will substantially reduce the cost of construction because we won't need any kind of base or station that can support and protect humans,” Driscoll said, while on the screen a vast solar array was being constructed by energetic boxy robots. Off to the left, Earth hung like a green-blue marble, clouds swirling across the continents. Behind the array hung the sun. It looked like the graphic designer had tweaked the colors to make the sun an even richer shade of gold.

Richard knew he shouldn't be snowed by incredible graphics, but damn, the images scrolling across the wall screen were breathtaking. He noticed that the scientists were watching his reactions, with the expressions of dogs hoping for a treat, rather than the screen.

Trout, the toenail inspector, looked up, his mouth twisted sourly, and he said, “I keep telling you this rigid construction is the wrong approach. Streamers of material would be—”

“Damn it, Ron!” Ranjan burst out. “Would you shut up about your damn streamers? You've missed most of the meetings on this project, and you don't know what the hell you're talking about!” The deep brown eyes first flicked toward Mosi and then Richard. He ducked his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, sir, pardon my French.”

Richard waved it off and nodded at the stricken presenter. “Go on, Dr. Driscoll.”

Eddie shot him an I-told-you-so look. Richard just shrugged. Driscoll cleared his throat and muttered some of the sentences they'd already heard, then picked it up again. “Meanwhile on Earth, ground-based construction crews will be erecting the dipole antenna arrays and bringing the grid out to the energy farm. This will provide employment in our targeted country.”

The screen obligingly showed a graphic of hard-hatted men pouring concrete and erecting antennas. Sand dunes flowed away, and on the horizon hung the golden sun. It concluded with an image of the array completed. A forest of antennas like silver anemones connected by glittering webs of thin wire in a garden of sand. Driscoll snapped off the computer and jumped up to turn on the lights. They all turned to look at Richard.

Richard steepled his hands. “Are any of these targeted countries likely to nationalize our energy farms?” he asked. He noted that Kenzo looked surprised at the question and felt a bitter sense of vindication.

Driscoll gaped at him and stuttered a bit as if surprised by the question. “I … I guess that might be an issue. I just thought if we bought the land—”

Dagmar interrupted. “You're talking about constructing this in parts of the world where the rule of law, and the sanctity of personal property, aren't well regarded,” she said.

Richard stepped back in. “There's a lot of ugly empty in the U.S.—Texas, for example, and southeastern New Mexico. We should look at purchasing property there too, and other countries that won't seize the asset. Spain, maybe.”

“Siberia,” Delany piped up

“That whole nationalizing thing,” Richard said gently, “sort of started in Russia.” Delany blushed.

“The beauty of this is that we can just change the target from the satellites. The country might seize the farm, but we don't have to give them the energy,” Ranjan said.

“I have a question,” Gold said. “We're going to be sending laser or microwave pulses down to Earth from space—”

“Lasers are more likely with nanophotonic antennas receiving,” Helman interrupted. His German accent lay thick on the words. The entire exchange was starting to make Richard feel like a moron. He noticed that once the picture show was over, Mosi had pulled out the iPad mini he had given her and was reading.

Gold looked as confused as Richard felt, but he plowed on. “Whatever. So how do we handle issues of air traffic? It would sort of wreck your day to have a laser punch through your airplane. The lawsuits would be a nightmare.”

Dagmar jumped in. “And what about birds? No one will love us if we start incinerating birds.”

“At the planet's surface, the beam we're contemplating would have a maximum intensity at its center of twenty-three mW/cm—” Ron began.

“Damn it, Ron! Remember what we said. No numbers! No formula,” Eddie yelped.

“Yes, please, no numbers,” Richard echoed.

“Just one number,” Kenzo said in his dry, precise way. “How much is this going to cost?”

They sank back into the chairs, and looks shot around the table as fast as their little laser pointers. Richard didn't need voices to supply the words.

You?

How about you?

You want to answer that?

Oh, crap! He would ask that!

Finally, Ranjan slid a piece of paper across the table toward Richard. Kenzo intercepted it, and Richard suppressed a flare of annoyance. Kenzo's normally expressionless face registered shock. “Absurd. Utterly absurd.”

Richard gestured, quick and angry. Kenzo handed over the paper. Richard looked at the figure, blanched, and collapsed against the back of his chair. “Wow. That's … that's a lot of money. Okay.” He pulled his voice out of the soprano range and back to its normal tenor. “The world needs clean energy. Whoever can deliver is going to get rich, very rich, and do a little good along the way. I'd like it to be Lumina, but we need to know when we'd hit the break-even point. And does this”—he gave the paper a shake—“include launch costs?”

“No.” Helman, ever the laconic German.

“It would be great if we had our own lift capacity,” Driscoll said wistfully, and Richard remembered from his file that he'd tried to join NASA as a payload specialist before they'd shut down the shuttle program.

Richard shook his head. “We looked into this last year, and there is no way we have the money to start our own space program. So how do we launch these robots and the materials to build these platforms?”

Ron spoke up. “We shouldn't be launching materials. Use the moon for the resources.”

“Yeah, Ron, but then we've got to have a permanent base on the moon
first
,” Ranjan pointed out.

“Not to mention the power to process the raw material,” Delany added.