EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (16 page)

7

Saturday, 16 May (1:31 p.m. EST – Antarctic Circle)

“Is it clear enough for video?” McHenry asked. He wanted enough data to at least document the find.

“We’ll need the lights,” Finley answered.

McHenry was intrigued enough to send out the
Little Dakota
, but she was somewhere at the bottom of the Weddell Sea, and they wouldn’t get a replacement anytime soon. They’d have to settle for the snake, which was just camera on the end of a long, flexible appendage. The snake was about 15 meters long and designed to inspect the outer hull for damage.

Being close to the coast, they were in relatively shallow water – 150 meters. The pilot lowered the
North Dakota
to within 40 meters of the U-boat and illuminated it with bright floodlights. It was a color camera, but the video still looked as if it were taken in black and white.

McHenry instructed Finley to maneuver the snake until he found what he sought: a gaping hole in the side of the sub.

Finley gasped. “Looks like they took a hit.”

“Find the markings,” McHenry ordered. “They’ll want to ID this thing.”

After a half-hour of probing they’d only found faint, eroded markings. There might have been more on the bottom and the buried parts, but he figured they had enough high-resolution video for the naval forensic experts. They’d do a sophisticated image analysis, and might be able to ID the vessel even without markings.

His attention turned to the trench. The sunken U-boat was not far from its starting point, less than two kilometers from shore. He wanted to see how far it went, and what else they might find in it. He ordered the pilot to position the
North Dakota
just above the trench, and to proceed slowly towards the continent.

The gouge became deeper as the sea floor rose towards the coast. It seemed as if it maintained a constant depth, but the walls to either side grew as it proceeded towards the continent, where the ocean floor would eventually merge with land. After more than an hour of careful navigation, it started to get tight.

“How would you like to proceed, Cap’n,” the pilot asked.

McHenry knew the question was whether or not to descend into the trench. “Do we have room to turn around in there, Finley?”

“No,” Finley replied as he pointed to the sonar image on a computer monitor. “For now we can still rise above it to make the turn – that is, until we get to the coast. Otherwise, we’ll have to back out. What if it goes inland?”

“That’s what we we’re going to find out,” McHenry said. “Let’s stay just above it for as long as we can, and keep an eye on the ceiling as we go. Notify me when we get close to the coast.”

McHenry headed to the conn. He needed to discuss the situation with his first officer.
What would he do if the trench penetrated inland?

8

Saturday, 16 May (10:11 p.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

Will was ready to go within minutes of getting Jennings’ call. An hour later, he was in the back seat of a car and heading to Syncorp. They were getting him inside.

Natalie Tate sat to Will’s left, and Jennings was in the passenger seat. Jake Adler was behind the wheel. He was a former Syncorp engineer who had moved up the ranks to Vice President – one of about 100.

Adler was on the hook; Jennings had convinced him that Syncorp was in big trouble, and the only way he’d avoid being rolled up in the collapse was to help them.

Adler turned left onto Perkins from College Drive and headed south. After a mile they approached a driveway on the left. A dimly lit Syncorp sign appeared as they made the turn.

The sign induced strong emotions – mostly anger – and Will’s chest tightened to the point of physical discomfort.

They followed the well-groomed, two-lane road for a half of a mile through dense woods until they stopped behind a semi-truck.

“There have been shipments every night for the past month,” Adler commented. “It won’t take too long to get in.”

Five minutes later they came to a gate connected to a concrete guardhouse. An armed, uniformed man approached the driver’s side, and Adler rolled down the window and handed him some documents.

The guard went back to the booth, handed the papers to his partner, and picked up a red phone.

“Who are they calling?” Jennings asked.

“It’s normal procedure,” Adler replied. “We have clients in late all the time.”

Natalie asked, “You sure you can get us into the right areas? You passed us off as pharmaceutical clients.”

“Relax,” Adler replied. “I’ve done this before. We show off what we have to convince potential clients to do business. They’ve all been through background checks. I managed to get you on the list of previously vetted guests.”

The security guard returned with three plastic visitor badges, and instructed them to wear them at all times. The gate lifted, and Adler drove through it and onto a wider, well-lit road with a median. Along the way were orange signs warning drivers to keep their speeds between 20 and 30 miles per hour until they got to the parking facility.

“What’s with the minimum speed?” Natalie asked, pointing to one of the signs.

“They don’t want anyone being dropped off before they get to the complex,” Adler explained. “The security is extreme – but most things are monitored electronically. As you can see, however, there are loopholes.”

A few minutes later they entered a parking structure and, after navigating turns and card-actuated gates, Adler parked the car and turned off the engine. He took off his seatbelt and turned his body sideways, towards Jennings. He glanced back and forth between Will and Natalie. “You have the story in case we’re questioned?”

Will and Natalie nodded. They worked for a Canadian pharmaceutical company, and were in the market for ultrasound components. Adler had assured them that no security guard would have the technical knowledge to expose them.
But what if they ran into an engineer?
Will thought. Things could get pretty hairy, even with his technical background.

They got out of the car, and Will followed the others to an elevator. After descending three levels to what he thought was ground level, the elevator door opened to a wide hallway. They got out, turned right, and walked down a corridor lined with big windows that revealed large, brightly lit rooms. The people on the other side were dressed in white lab coats and milled around massive stainless steel tables. The tabletops were littered with intricate mechanical pieces that he couldn’t identify.

“This is the robotic surgery section,” Adler explained in a voice that seemed commercial. Will knew they were now on stage – cameras everywhere.

They continued down the hall and took a left into another corridor, identical to the first.

“This is the radiation oncology division,” Adler said. “We’ve made significant advances in radiation therapy devices. Next is the magnetic resonance imaging – or MRI – division.”

Will was impressed. Before his jaunt in academia, he’d conducted research at government labs. It was clear that Syncorp’s laboratory facilities, and probably the research, eclipsed anything he’d previously seen. Then he remembered that Syncorp was a defense contractor: funding was not an issue.

After a half hour of touring and chatting nonsense, they reached an elevator door that required card access. Jennings turned to Will and made a face suggesting
this is it
.

Adler slid his card. They piled into the elevator, and went down a floor.

The layout was identical to that of the previous floor except that the windows were darkened so that they couldn’t see inside the rooms.

They proceeded at about the same pace as the previous floor, and Adler kept talking as if he was trying to sell them something. Jennings asked questions appropriate for their cover. After five minutes, Adler stopped in front of one of the doors.

“Let me show you an example of some of our most advanced technical capabilities,” Adler said and ran his card through a slot next to the door. It clicked, and he pushed it open.

The room was as large as a basketball gymnasium, but absent of people. Overhead cranes hung on rails suspended from the 40 foot ceiling, and milling machines, lathes, welding stations, and other fabrication tools occupied stations on the wall to the left. Electronics benches and fume hoods lined the opposite side. On the far end were stacks of casket-sized crates arranged on heavy, wooden pallets. There were 7 groups of 10 and 1 group of 4.

Their shoes clacked and echoed in the large room as Adler led them to the crates.

“Things are quiet here this week,” Adler explained, addressing the absence of Syncorp personnel. “They’d just finished a large order and the night shift had been put on hold for a while. Let me show you one of our products.”

Adler walked to a workbench and returned with an electric drill motor with a screwdriver attachment. He walked between two pallets to the stack of four crates and engaged the drill. After removing the 20-plus screws from the lid of one of the crates and putting them in his pocket, he set the drill on the floor, and walked to one side. He grabbed the edge of the lid and nodded to Jennings to grab the other. They lifted together and set it on the floor.

Adler struggled to remove yellow foam packing material that was sprayed in for a tight form-fit. After dislodging a large piece and tossing it to the floor, he waved them over.

Will looked into the crate and was nearly overcome with dizziness. In his mind, he’d been transported back to the Red Box, back inside his Exoskeleton. He fought the strong urge to separate from his body. He stood still for a few seconds until the urgency subsided.

Two pieces were visible: an Exoskeleton forearm and the corresponding upper arm. They were separately wrapped in clear plastic and pressed into cellophane-covered foam. He picked up the forearm and examined it, despite the nervous look he got from Adler. It was lighter than he’d expected, and had the exact metallic-blue tint he remembered. The arm sections were missing some components that he knew had to be assembled later. It had mounting provisions for pneumatic actuators, conduits for tubes and sensors, and extra joints in places where they should not be – one in the middle of the forearm and another around the bicep position of the upper arm. The extra joints had been used to bend his bones, the pain from which still lingered in his mind. The most damning identifier was the metal tag mounted on the top of the forearm, near the wrist: Syncorp, Inc.

Will extracted another set of arm pieces, set them on the floor, and pulled out another level of foam to reveal a set of legs and feet. “Are there other pieces?” Will asked. He knew there should also be head cages, motors, actuators, biosensors, and other systems.

Adler’s eyes bulged so that the whites were exposed all around. Will was approaching the limit of their cover.

“This department only develops the parts that you see here,” Adler explained. “And also the support appendage that connects the device to a control track.”

Will remembered the sinister-looking appendage to which Adler referred: it resembled a giant scorpion tail, and suspended the Exoskeleton, and its hapless victim, from the ceiling. It also provided all power, sensing, and feedback control.

A light film of sweat cooled Will’s forehead. He looked at Jennings with an expression of confirmation. He then turned to Adler. “Where are these going?”

Adler looked confused.

This was off script, but was a question any inquisitive person might ask. If Adler kept his cool, their cover should be okay.

“Um … I’m not sure,” Adler stammered. “Overseas somewhere, I think.”

“Shall we pack up and go?” Jennings broke in. He’d already grabbed the packing foam and gestured to Will to put the pieces he held in his hands back into the crate. As Will leaned over the crate, he snapped some blind pictures with his phone, mostly concealed in his jacket. He hoped for at least one good shot.

After everything was packed, Adler and Natalie replaced the lid. Adler drove in the all of the screws in just a few minutes.

They left the room, made their way back to the car, and were off Syncorp property and heading north on Perkins by 12:30 a.m.

“Again, where are the Exoskeletons going?” Will asked Adler.

“China,” Adler replied. “Just one week after our … uh … domestic demand evaporated, we got new management with connections to the Chinese government – unofficial, of course. We now ship more of these than ever before.”

“Do you know what they’re used for?” Will asked, agitated.

“I assume they have some medical applications,” Adler answered.

“They’re used to
torture
people,” Will nearly screamed.

Natalie put her hand on Will’s.

“Sorry,” Will said, more to Natalie than Adler.

He felt better when they reached familiar territory. Jennings turned right, from Perkins Road to College Drive, and then finally into the parking lot of the International House of Pancakes where Will had parked his car.

“We’ll be in touch,” Jennings said just before he closed the door.

Will got into his SUV and started driving home. He was alarmed that the technology was being passed to China, but it was no surprise. The United States couldn’t keep a secret. The subtleties of the Manhattan Project had been leaked out before the first bomb exploded. Klaus Fuchs – one of the Los Alamos scientists – had been the traitor. That one man
might have been the sole reason for the Cold War. The National Security Agency lost all of its secrets: again, one-man, Edward Snowden. Now, the Red Wraith research had leaked and it was spreading like cancer. China, not exactly the pinnacle of human rights, would apply the program indiscriminately. And what if they succeeded? What if they created more people like himself?

Syncorp had to be stopped quickly.
And by any means.