Halon-Seven (50 page)

At that, Cyrus nodded. He finally understood Bayer’s plan. “He plans to profit from the chaos.”

Bayer stood proudly with his arms crossed, and he waited for his captive audience to work things out. He looked like he was posing for the statue he believed would one day be made in his honor.

“It is not possible!” Dargo countered.

Tipping his head back and forth, Cyrus filtered the twisted logic in his mind. “Anyone sufficiently prepared for the chaos stands to profit from it. Given Bayer’s means, I’m thinking that would include the stockpiling of tangible assets, things that will have substantial value following the collapse. In this case, weapons and ammunition. It also means he’ll have fresh water processing plants standing by. Power plants, ready to go online. Massive stockpiles of canned and dried foods. Oh, and his own private army. You gotta have that, just to keep the Army, Navy, and Marines from stomping your ass from the get go. I’m betting that’s where these thugs come in,” his gaze moved from man to man, as he took in the team that had wiped out Dargo’s men and taken them prisoner.

“But first things first, someone with Bayer’s perverted sense of value would start with conventional investments above all else. On an intellectual level, he might understand what will be of value following the collapse. But he won’t be able to deny his nature. I bet he’s already begun stockpiling gold and silver. Once the necessities are covered, that’ll be the currency he’ll use to rebuild the markets.”

“Rebuild them as I see fit,” Bayer stated simply. That one statement confirmed everything Cyrus had put together.

Reese looked nauseated. “This technology has the ability to unite the world in a way never conceived! And you look at it as a tool for profit? You’ll bring nothing but death and destruction!”

“It’s all about power to him,” Cyrus said sadly.

This made Bayer chuckle. “It’s about more than power! It’s about righting a long-standing wrong!”

By the glint in his eye, Cyrus could tell that Bayer was dying to explain, so he kept quiet and let the man have the floor.

“You refer to it as Halon-Seven,” Bayer said. “If you think it was an American technology, you are sorely mistaken. Meade’s predecessor stole the technology from Mother Russia. Your precious Meridian, at its heart, is Russian technology!”

Reese shook her head. She didn’t understand. “Stole it?”

Bayer nodded. “In 1907, a meteor strike outside of Moscow resulted in the discovery of a new element. Russian scientists studied it at a secret laboratory. They discovered that the ore comprising a portion of the meteorite exhibited truly amazing properties. When energy was applied to the ore, the mineral would magnify the introduced energy by an untold factor. It was to be a technology that would change the world. Until, that is, an American agent infiltrated the laboratory in 1908 and stole the only known sample.”

“You’re crazy!” Reese said simply. She clearly wasn’t buying his crazy tale.

“Not at all,” Bayer countered. “All the information is there. It’s a puzzle. You just have to be dogged in searching out the pieces and putting them together. You see, to cover the theft of the meteorite, an American agent detonated some sort of super-weapon and wiped out not only the lab, but hundreds of acres of Russian forest. The ore that was stolen from my homeland is now used to power your teleportation technology. You refer to it as Halon-Seven!”

This brought a spontaneous, heartfelt laugh from Cyrus. Bayer’s twisted recitation of historic events was so flawed that he found it amusing. The laugh had come unexpectedly, but when he saw the glimmer of rage in Bayer’s eyes, he recognized what amounted to an opportunity. He could set the record straight and run down the clock in the process. Bayer had clearly fixated on his messed up revisionist history of Halon-Seven. Cyrus thought that recounting the facts might buy the time he needed.

All the reports he’d read flashed through his eidetic memory. He’d read every note Meade had left behind. This included a number of classified documents secured in a burn safe hidden in the basement vault in Colorado. Cyrus hadn’t even shared that information with Reese yet.

“You know, you get credit for solving a puzzle only if you put the pieces together correctly. All you’ve done is take a bunch of disparate bits of information and build a narrative that incorporates them.”

“I assure you, my version of events is quite accurate!”

“Not even close,
comrade
!”

Cyrus had everything committed to memory. “A series of meteor showers began pelting the Earth sometime in 1902. The showers came in waves, on and off, over the next several years. In 1907, a meteor impacted 12 kilometers outside of Moscow. The meteorite was collected by the Russian military, at the time still under the command of Nicholas II, the last Tsar of Russia. The meteorite was soon found to display unusual properties, one of which seemed to be the ability to amplify energy. A lab was set up in the wilds of Russia, where the Tsar thought the meteorite could be examined far from prying eyes.

“Interestingly, that lab wasn’t built for the study of the meteorite. The facility was originally intended to be a prison camp for political prisoners. A gulag. Near the completion of the facility, it was repurposed for scientific research.

“Around that same time Rumsfeld Pellagrin, a brilliant American scientist, was working on a project in the United States. In a surprising coincidence, his work was based on observations made following a
separate
meteor impact in the United States. Pellagrin didn’t know it at the time, but his meteorite led him to the discovery of what we now call quantum entanglement. Without a doubt, far ahead of his time, Pellagrin’s study of quantum entanglement led to our principle understanding of quantum teleportation. Pellagrin believed it was possible to teleport anything from one point to another instantaneously, regardless of distance. All of this, gleaned strictly from his study of the ore that comprised his meteorite.”

Bayer finally interrupted. “The American agent, Pellagrin—he stole the Russian sample to prevent Mother Russia from developing its own technology!”

“Not at all,” Cyrus explained. “And, since I know you’re not good with puzzles, try to keep up.” He was needling Bayer. He just hoped that Dargo was taking advantage of the time he was buying.

“The American and Russian meteorites had a completely different composition. They fell to Earth in different meteor showers and exhibited entirely different properties. Pellagrin knew he was on to something groundbreaking. The science of his day was primitive by our standards, but his theories were sound and light years ahead of his contemporaries’. Pellagrin wholeheartedly believed that teleportation was possible. He knew that if he could perfect the technology, it would change the world. But every approach to quantum entanglement met with the same roadblock. The energy required to link more than a few particles was beyond the abilities of the day.

“All of that changed when a report reached the US Signals Intelligence Service in 1908. The report stated that the Russians had made a breakthrough. They had some sort of device with the ability to produce unheard of levels of electricity. If there was ever a chance of powering Pellagrin’s teleportation platform, the Russian technology was the key. But in that lay the problem. The Americans couldn’t just request access to secret Russian technology. Even admitting we knew of it would alert the Russians to a spy working in the Tsar’s palace.

“So Pellagrin came up with a plan that would keep the spy safe and still provide access to the Russian power source. Stealing it was out of the question. The intelligence he had indicated the power source was delicate and experimental. It was also hardwired into the power grid of the military installation where it was being studied. Since Pellagrin couldn’t bring the power source to his platform, he took his platform to the power source.”

Taking a few seconds to gather his thoughts, Cyrus considered whether he should continue his narrative. If it bought him the time he needed, it would be worth exposing sensitive information. But if his gamble didn’t payoff, he’d be helping Bayer, and that was unacceptable.

Ultimately he had no choice. If they failed, Bayer would cause untold destruction regardless of what he said or did. If he leveled with Bayer now and explained that there wasn’t enough Halon-Seven to complete his plan, the man would likely kill them all right there. Then he would take the Halon-Seven he had and use it as a weapon. If the accident at the Fire Star lab had demonstrated anything, it was how the element could be weaponized. Cyrus opted to continue the story. He had to stop Bayer here and now, and that required buying a little more time.

“Pellagrin’s transport platform was a large and complicated piece of technology,” Cyrus continued. “There was no way he could sneak it into Russia, let alone into the secure Russian facility. So he had the Russians do the heavy lifting. He leaked information about a powerful new super-weapon that was being transported from New Mexico for a demonstration in Washington, D.C. Pellagrin made sure the cross-country trip included an overnight stay at a warehouse mid-trip, providing the Russians adequate opportunity to make their move. Sure enough, they took the bait.

“You should be proud,” he said with a glance to Bayer and then to Dargo, since they were both Russian. “You guys pulled it off! The Russians stole several hundred pounds of gear that was to comprise a state-of-the-art super-weapon when fully assembled. After that, they secretly transported it back to Russia. And, wouldn’t you know it? Just as Pellagrin predicted, the Tsar had the stolen hardware sent to the same secret military installation as Fire Star.”

“Fire Star? What is Fire Star?” Dargo asked.

Cyrus had seen Bayer’s expression change at the mention of the Russian code name.

“Fire Star is what the Russians called their power source, their meteorite. Anyway, the stolen hardware was to be examined by the finest scientific minds in Russia. So naturally, it was taken to the same base as Fire Star. But by the time the stolen hardware arrived, Pellagrin had already infiltrated the installation. After that, it was a simple matter of modifying paperwork. When the stolen American hardware arrived, it was promptly deposited in the Fire Star lab, where it was to be examined the next day.”

The pulsing vein had retuned to Bayer’s forehead. “You expect me to believe that a lone American scientist infiltrated a top-secret, Russian military base by himself?”

Phoenix, Arizona

Sunday, 7:54 pm (8:54 pm Colorado Time)

Cyrus nodded. “Rumsfeld Pellagrin was something of a renaissance man. He was a scholar before he joined the Marine Corps. After his tour of duty, he returned to academia. The man wore many hats in his lifetime. He must’ve been truly extraordinary.”

“Continue your story,” Bayer ordered impatiently.

“Finding that these pieces fit together?” Cyrus pressed.

He didn’t try to hide his satisfied smirk as he continued. “In the dead of night, Pellagrin snuck into the Fire Star lab and found the crates comprising the American super-weapon. They were stowed just as his forged work order instructed. He spent the rest of the night reassembling the device. But when he was done, there was no weapon. Pellagrin had tricked the Russians into delivering his teleportation platform to the very room that housed Fire Star!”

“And this is when your Rumsfeld Pellagrin stole the Fire Star meteorite and destroyed the facility, killing over a hundred Russian patriots,” Bayer stated in a flat, cold tone.

“Not at all,” Cyrus countered. “I’m afraid it was your
patriots
that pulled the pin on that grenade.”

Cyrus decided that it would be an ideal time to resist continuation of the narrative. After all his years of research, Nil Bayer was desperate to know what really happened to the Fire Star lab. Cyrus knew he had the man’s full attention, and the metaphoric clock was his to control.

Even the guards had become enamored with the story. He could see it in their faces and the way their eyes moved between him and Bayer as the conversation had moved back and forth. They were holding their rifles more casually as well. It confirmed Cyrus’s suspicion. Bayer was relying on mercenaries. These men were loyal to his checkbook, not his cause. It also meant that, while these men knew how to handle weapons and were comfortable taking human lives, they weren’t true professionals. All of these factors would aid Cyrus when it came time to make his move.

As it was, he’d already made progress with his flex cuffs. Keeping attention focused on his face was essential. While he was telling his tale, he was carefully working a lock pick free from its hidden location, slid up under the skin of his forearm. It was the second time in a week he’d used the trick. If he had to do it again, he would need to start using the other arm or risk developing obvious scars. That would end the trick’s usefulness. The gag worked only if the guy patting him down missed the mark left on the skin.

All the same, having to do this in plain sight meant he had to move slow and deliberately. He needed to continue the story.

Bayer quickly grew short-tempered with Cyrus’s delay tactic. “Would you prefer to continue, or should I have Miss Knoland shot in the leg as well? I doubt she will suffer it as stoically as Mister Dargoslav.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes at the drama.
Fine.
“Pellagrin assembled his prototype platform in the Fire Star lab. There was a matching platform waiting to receive him at his lab back in the States. Unfortunately, by this point, the base guards had discovered that Pellagrin had locked himself in the lab. They tried to breach it but couldn’t gain access. Ultimately, they attached a pair of explosive charges to the lab wall.”

Cyrus gave Bayer a chance to suss out where this was leading, but the man remained silent. Either he wasn’t seeing it yet or he wanted to hear Cyrus explain the series of events from beginning to end. With some frustration, he continued. “Anyway, Pellagrin fired up the Fire Star device and attached it to the platform. He crossed his fingers and jumped on the platform with what might’ve been only seconds to spare before the guards detonated their charges. Pellagrin was vindicated! The teleportation device worked flawlessly! The next thing he knew he was standing in his lab, back home with a contingent of shocked associates gapping at him. As you can imagine, he had literally appeared out of nowhere.