The Lucifer Sanction (19 page)

– one without political aspirations of leaders who are no
more than national mobsters, brutalizing citizens for their
own greedy ends.”
“How’d they plan to . . .”
Sam didn’t complete the question.
Frober turned away, strolled to a cabinet. “They will
evacuate selected personnel together with their families,
establish sanctuaries, safe havens. Libra will repopulate the
planet to suit their dreams, create an Arian Race, you might
say. There will be no more illness, no more nuclear crazed
governments. To better phrase it, Libra will be a New
World Order, an ideological utopia. They aspire to a Fourth
Reich and will continue with their Bilderberg connection.
They will create Hitler’s aspiration, an Arian Race. Libra
will claim to be moving forward, to by-pass what would
without their intervention be deemed inevitable.”
“Deemed inevitable? You’re saying annihilation is
gonna happen unless Libra intervenes?”
“So their physicists say, Mr. Ridkin. In time –
yes – it will happen.” He paused as though considering a
better way to phrase his reply. “Yes, that is exactly what
will occur. We have considered a number of scenarios
but unfortunately we arrive at the same conclusion - that
human intrusion in the manner Libra plans is the only
solution. The alternative is a world devoid of food supply,
a human race driven to cannibalism for its very survival.”
He unrolled a map showing the North American continent,
Europe, Australia, South America, Canada and China.
“You see these hi-lighted areas? They represent billions of
clean acres.”
“Clean acres?” Sam asked.
“Yes, catchment areas containing fresh water far
afield from the plutonium leakage, sufficient amounts to
create trillions of cubic feet of fresh drinking water once
run through an aquifer. It will provide irrigation to grow
food. Every cubic foot of previously worthless land will
contain the most valuable commodity on a drought stricken
planet - fresh water.”
“And these lands are the property of?” Sam asked.
“Libra is very clever. They bought up these
wastelands for pennies on the dollar and quietly set a
pipeline into each directly from the oceans of the world.
The salt water will travel through the aquifer and voila,
an underground storage of cool, clean drinking water.
We presently pay around five dollars for a small bottle of
drinking water. After Neuberg activates his devise, that
figure could rival the price paid for the most expensive
wine. We can live without the wine, but we have to have
the water. As Benjamin Franklin said, ‘you won’t know the
worth of water until the well is dry.’”
“So the device that Günter Neuberg has, it will
activate the . . .”
Frober
exhaled
impatiently.
“When
Neuberg
transfers back to our time, when Libra knows the
three ampoules have been safely removed and Moreau
terminated, they will have their people in place. Neuberg
will activate every plutonium dump-site on our planet and
Libra’s intrusion will release toxic chemicals. Radioactive
components will contaminate the biosphere and water
infiltration will mix with the plutonium creating plutonium
hydride, an amazing substance that ignites spontaneously.
The possibility of accidental penetration will more than
detour investigations from facilities such as Libra in
situations where containment facilities are located in areas
rich in oil, gas, and potash. We are certain that any potential
investigators would be far more concerned with their own
survival than searching out the cause of their demise.
“Meanwhile pumps will bring in billions of
gallons that will run through the aquifer and fill enormous
underground caverns with an endless supply of uh - hmm,
of course...” He paused, made light of his attempt to add
humor, “an endless supply of bottles of Dasani.”
Sam and Hunter remained stoic. Frober quickly put
his serious face back in place.
“When we worked harmoniously with the people
upstairs, we mastered reverse osmosis, raised it to a level
previously unimaginable. Successful commercialization
occurring in the early 2003 period enabled us to force
seawater through a membrane.”
Silence.
Sam gave a few long seconds for Frober to elaborate
further. After too long a silence Sam said, “Allow me to
play Devil’s advocate here. If for some reason Neuberg
doesn’t destroy the ampoules – what’s the effective life of
the Lucifer virus?”
“Lucifer will kill for two hours, three maximum. It
will kill everything that breathes – all bird life, everything
on the surface of the Earth.”
“And then?”
“And then it will die, Mr. Ridkin, then it will die.”
“Die?” Hunter queried. “You mean after what –
after a few years?”
“No. Lucifer completely destroys itself just three
hours after release.”
“Is there some way . . .” and Sam hesitated to better
think out his question. “Is there some way to destroy the
virus while it remains contained in sealed ampoules?”
“The virus can only be destroyed when the ampoules
are subjected to extreme heat.”
“How extreme?” Hunter asked.
“Six thousand degrees . . . Celsius.”
“You’re saying it’s gonna take a nuclear explosion
to kill this thing?” Sam asked.
Frober interlocked his fingers, stretched his palms
toward Sam and replied in an acquiescing manner. “Nothing
less, Mr. Ridkin – nothing less; our intent is to intercede
in the return of Libra’s Anti-Christ. We have the ability
to destroy Lucifer, to inhibit the triggering of plutonium
contamination - to destroy Günter Franz Neuberg.”

An hour and ten minutes after the commencement
of the meeting, Frober attempted to explain the existence,
or rather, the survival of their prototype Particle Transfer
Chambers tucked away in a storage area deep beneath the
rambling Zurich facility.

“In our earlier days,” he said in a deep level of
intensity, “well, in those days we attempted particle transfer
and struggled with photon interference.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam interjected with a raised palm. “I
know I speak for Hunter and me when I say our science
vocabulary is embarrassingly limited. What little we
arrived with has been totally erased.” He gestured with a
shrug. “What the hell is photon interference?”

“Among our Libra physicists there are those who
several years back believed quantum theory indicated the
existence of parallel universes.”

“And so you moved those early guys back in time,
correct?”
“Well – no. The initial subjects were animals. Those
dogs that ran by – they are the luckier ones.”
“Luckier?” Hunter said making a face.
“Yes. We experienced issues with the early model
chambers.”
“Issues?” Hunter asked with a strained expression
that hung like a death mask. “What kind of issues?”
“Our Particle Transfer Chambers are lined with
multiple mirrors, Agent Hunter. The use of silvered mirrors
has a tendency to bounce the photon off the mirrored
surfaces. Unfortunately our people had several issues with
photon detection. As this is far removed from the statistical
basis of thermodynamics in classical physics, we suffered
having to endure a lack of precise knowledge of initial
conditions.”
“So correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor,” Sam said,
“What you’re saying is that until recently, Libra was taking
a shot in the dark?”
“We are dealing with quantum theory here, Mr.
Ridkin; quantum theory has never been one hundred percent
possible when it comes to predicting the absolute outcome
of experiments. Predictability of an experiment’s success
in quantum physics is a random factor. We have found a
fifty percent success rate to be quite acceptable.””
Sam looked solemn. “Ah, you’ll have to excuse
me; I was under the misunderstanding that precision is a
fundamental part of what physicists do.”
Frober sniggered. “Probability was a fundamental
part of what we strived for, but ‘precision’ – no. We have
never claimed we could achieve
precision
. We are more
than pleased with a fifty percentile success rate.”
Hunter winced. “Probability - that hardly makes
me too thrilled about probability and my body. I mean to
say, you’re plannin’ to safely ship me back to a parallel
universe, right?” His flustered panic increased with each
word. “What if your shot in the dark misses its target, what
if I end up in the Coliseum - you know – fightin’ off a
fuckin’ lion?”
Frober enjoyed Hunter’s panic attack. “Steady,
Agent Hunter. All possible outcomes that can take place
in a parallel universe do in fact, take place. Technically,
randomness is a subjective aspect of reality. Here at Libra,
we have completed a great deal of advanced research
with regard sub-atomic particle transfer. We have solved
the issues of several inconsistencies in standard quantum
theory. Have done away with non-locality, or entities at
different locations.”
Frober chortled and made a pretend thrusting
move as though imitating a gladiator wielding a sword.
“Therefore Agent Hunter, your surprise arrival during
the emulation of the Scipio Africanus defeat at the hands
of the Barbarian horde will never eventuate. We are able
to pinpoint your location to within a one mile radius of
selected coordinates.”
“Oh good, now I’m a happy camper,” Hunter said
sarcastically. “Just when I was gonna watch a rerun of
Gladiator.”
Frober grinned. “No doubt, Agent Hunter – a
favorite scene. Our computer ability has bounded forward.
We have long mastered the quantum computer and are
actively perfecting photon experimentation.”
Frober paused, stared for several seconds at Hunter
as though analyzing his comprehension skills.
Hunter: “But these prototypes, are they as good as
the equipment the guys upstairs are usin’?”
“These are the first chambers and are quite up to
standard. Yes, you may rest assured these chambers are
roadworthy.”
Sam analyzed the body language and when the
staring became icy he let out a ponderous sigh. “Hunter’s
skills lay in areas far removed from quantum theory. That,
Doctor, is your job. If you’re as proficient at your craft
as Hunter is at his, well then, we’ll have nothing to be
concerned about.”
Frober nodded in agreement. “While our friends at
CERNA needlessly studied more technical aspects of the
theory, Libra reached the conclusion that quantum effects
constantly divide the universe into multiple diverging
copies.”
Sam stepped in. “Listen, my main concern here is
this, when are you guys gonna bring my team back?”
Frober appeared dubious. He slouched in his chair.
“I am the first to admit we are somewhat limited. There are
only four of us working in this subterranean museum. We
have the dogs, some comforts and adequate food supply,
but the men above, Danzig, Bosch, Beckman, and of course
our friend le Blanc, they have schemed to implement the
plutonium water contamination plan for some time. In its
initial stages, we objected strongly to the plan and that
objection caused extreme trepidation.”
Hunter asked, “And you all got pink slips, right?”
“Pink slips?”
“Sacked! You dissenters were all terminated.”
Frober passed Hunter a wry grin and shook his
head. “Terminated is an appropriate choice of words. We
were to drive down to the resort. There was a skirmish
between two of the dogs as we were about to leave the
facility, one of the animals had fouled itself in a run of
computer terminal wires requiring three of us to repair the
damage. The car in which we were to travel met with an
untimely accident on the snow covered mountain road. An
avalanche drove it off a cliff. A group of recruits with the
Avalanche training center on the Gurschenalpsay hurried to
the site. They said the Mercedes disintegrated mid-air, not
on impact. Investigators believe an explosion preempted
the avalanche.”
Hunter was stunned at what he was hearing. He
asked, “They found no remains?”
“Correct. Other than avalanche trainees and Swiss
Army units, no one comes to this part of the valley, not this
deep between the mountains.”
“Your two associates,” Sam asked as if afraid of the
answer, “where are they?”
“With your imminent arrival they set about refurbishing the two original chambers for the transfer.”
“Two?” Sam said apprehensively. “I’m not going
anyplace, so you just need one for Hunter.”
Hunter placed a little more distance between himself
and Sam. “Oh, good,” he snorted. “Solid support, just what
I need to hear.”
Frober quickly corrected the misunderstanding.
“No, no, no, Mr. Ridkin. The other chamber is not for
you.”
“Then for who?”
“For Bruno.”
“Bruno?
Frober looked about, placedthe tip of a pinky finger
in each corner of his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. A
minute or so later a large German Shepherd romped into
the room and sidled up to Frober.
“Gentlemen, meet Herr Bruno.”
The dog raised its liquid eyes and gave a panting
smile to its master.
Hunter tentatively slouched forward and stroked
the dog’s head. “So what’s the deal with Bruno here?”
“Please do not misunderstand our intent. This entire
area...” and he waved a slow hand about the room as he
spoke. “This is considered a graveyard, considered dead
space. Libra confines its focus on the upper level, on more
advanced technology.”
Sam stared hard into Frober’s eyes for any clue as
to what was festering in the German’s mind. He dismissed
his doubt and shrugged, “These so called prototypes – are
you feeling okay with them?”
“Initially we had issues, but Bruno will be in an
adjoining chamber. We will set both coordinates for near
simultaneous transfers. When Agent Hunter arrives at his
destination, Bruno will have arrived a few seconds ahead
of him.”
“Hey, hey, hey – back up there, Tonto. The dog goes
– then me? What if the dog goes and he disintegrates, do
you still hit the blast off button for me? Does Bruno have
his own disc?”
“If Bruno fails to transfer we have a three second
window in which to abort your transference – a time lag – a
kill switch.”
“And the dog’s disc, how does he activate it to get
back here?”
“We are able to transport him back. His weight is a
factor, yours however, well – it requires self-activation.”
Hunter made an aggghhh sound. “Wrong answer
there, Fritz, ain’t what I wanna hear. What I wanna hear is
‘of course not, Agent Hunter.’”
Frober chortled, “Of course not, Agent Hunter.”
Hunter remained silent.
“Do you feel better now?” Frober asked. He repeated
in a more serious tone, “Of course not,” and released a long
sigh as he gave Sam a perfunctory glance. “I cannot overly
impress the seriousness of the situation.”
Sam snorted, “I follow the nature of the situation,
Doctor.”
“They are very clever men,” Frober groaned, “those
people upstairs.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Very
dangerous men – their philosophy is clear. They are not
unlike politicians, attorneys and media – they believe that
out of calamity comes opportunity and wealth.”
Sam thought about that for a half-minute. Before
Frober could continue casting aspersion on those upstairs,
Sam asked, “What do we need to know about this Neuberg
guy?”
“Our ability to intercept Neuberg will destroy
Libra’s ‘Hitleresque’ aspirations. We must alter his reentry coordinates, the angle of his return trajectory. If all
goes well, we will direct him away from this universe. He
will be dispatched into infinity, to some black hole where
it will be our people who activate the device, not Bosch,
not Schroeder. It will have no effect on our world. The
waterways will remain safe. Our timing is crucial; we will
have a very small window of opportunity.”
Sam became anxious, his palms were sweating and
he rubbed them briskly on his sleeves. “A small window of
opportunity – how’ll you override the men upstairs?”
“We three are the fathers of the Particle Transfer
induction within Libra. Andre Ziegman, one of my two
compatriots was head-hunted from CERNA. Andre is a
genius and came at great cost. We are the brains behind
what is now in the hands of those at the controls. They
believe we are dead. The element of surprise serves us well.
I should add that we do have one more card up our sleeve,
a little help from one of our sympathizers - he remains
extremely compassionate to our cause. He is above us; he
is still in their trust.”
“You mean to say you’ve an associate upstairs - up
in Libra?” Sam asked.