Friday, December 17
Unspecified location
The man named Baxter paced. It seemed as though he was constantly in motion. The people at the various monitoring consoles around which he moved watched him uneasily from the corner of their eyes, taking great care never to meet his gaze. No one wanted to draw the man's attention. Suddenly, Baxter whirled as the lock mechanism cycled and the door to the control room opened. A short, lean man with brown hair entered. With a quick glance, he spotted Baxter and, without breaking stride, veered in that direction purposefully. Behind him, the other two men who formed the scientific "brains" of Baxter's organization hesitated in the doorway. Both men jumped forward nervously as the door closed abruptly behind them and the lock re-engaged.
"What have you found out, Edgerton?" Baxter demanded impatiently.
Dr. Nathaniel Edgerton stopped about five feet from his employer and responded calmly, "Our informant in the Pentagon confirms that the U.S. government has no on-going research on this type of weapon system. So evidently, Dr. Payson's fears were simply paranoia . . . they had refused to fund his research because they weren't interested in the idea, not because they were already working on it themselves. Both the Pakistanis and the Israelis have something similar on the drawing board, but they are only in the most rudimentary stages and are probably a good five to seven years away from having a working prototype."
Baxter waived a dismissive hand at the last comment. "The U.S., the Chinese, and perhaps the Russians are the only ones who might have advanced the research far enough to have the solutions we need."
Edgerton shook his head. "None of them are pursuing the idea actively enough to have reached the stage we are at. The United States is as close as any with their training simulation programs. They have had trouble with cybersickness, time lags, and various other problems, but the program hasn't been of a high enough priority for them to devote many resources to it. What they have will be of no use to us."
"So you are saying that you have no answers," Baxter replied dangerously.
"No, I am saying that the governments of this world do not have the answers. That is not to say that they aren't out there," Edgerton replied, holding his ground as his employer began to advance on him.
Baxter stopped abruptly. "Explain yourself," he demanded harshly.
Edgerton deliberately turned his back on Baxter and began to pace restlessly. "You assume that the only people who are likely to have the answers we need are government research teams. Don't forget that Payson was working on his own. I believe our answers lie with independent researchers."
"And how do you propose to find those researchers? Advertise in the Times?" Baxter asked sarcastically.
"I don't need to find them," Edgerton replied haughtily. "I already know where to start looking."
"Then why are you wasting time?!" Baxter screamed in rage. "I want this system operational NOW! I should . . ."
"You should what?" Edgerton replied contemptuously. "Kill me the way you did Payson?" Baxter halted a few steps away, panting in fury. "And just where would that leave you? You want the weapon operational, and right now, I'm the only one you have left that can make that happen."
"You are treading a very fine line, Dr. Edgerton," Baxter said thinly, struggling to control himself. "No one is irreplaceable."
"I am well aware of that. But I have one advantage . . . I know your operations, your goals, and I know how to get them accomplished. Bringing in someone new would take too much time . . . time I don't think you have."
Baxter eyed the man coldly, temper firmly in check. "What makes you say that?"
"Because the information I got from our Pentagon informant tells me that there are rumors about the incident in the desert. Evidently, the experiment which eliminated the spy in our organization was monitored."
Baxter stiffened. "How? There was no way the man could have broadcast anything."
Edgerton shrugged. "Either he planted a monitoring device somewhere within the complex before he was discovered or he was not the only spy who has managed to infiltrate our operations. Either way, the U.S. government is aware of your operations, and it's only a matter of time before they track you down."
With an inarticulate sound of anger, Baxter began to pace again. After a moment, he turned suddenly and stabbed a sharp finger at a man dressed in a black jumpsuit not far away. "You," he snapped. "Start a complete sweep of this facility. If there is a monitoring device within this complex, I want it found. Take him with you," he added, waving at one of the other scientists who was hovering in the background. "Assume the device is here and FIND it. I want it disabled immediately. It is not to broadcast anything else. Do you understand me?" Both men nodded and scurried from the room. Then Baxter turned to a second man in black. "You will institute a complete background search of every person in my organization. Start with those placed at this facility and then move to all other branches of my business, both covert and public. If there is a second plant, he is to be found and eliminated."
"But, Sir," the man objected, "that has already been done . . . twice!"
"Then do it again!" Baxter thundered. "If one man managed to get in, it's possible another one did, as well. And if there is another one, I want him found!"
"Sir! Yes, Sir!" the man replied hastily and sprinted from the room.
"Now," Baxter said, turning back to Edgerton, "explain to me why it is that you've known all along who can solve this problem and you haven't brought him to me already."
Edgerton looked at the white-haired man in exasperation. The man's impatience and impossible demands would be his undoing. "I pursued other options because I knew you would want the information in the safest manner possible. We can take risks if we have to, but why do so if it isn't necessary?" Edgerton sighed and turned away from Baxter. "Unfortunately, it appears we have no other choice."
Baxter eyed the man for a moment. Edgerton was a brilliant man. Educated at MIT, he had degrees in mechanical, industrial, and electrical engineering as well as a Ph.D. in computer science. His specialties were artificial intelligence and industrial automation, which had made him the perfect choice for chief research scientist in Baxter's organization. To the world at large, he was the Director of Science and Research for Elias International, Inc. But, in truth, Edgerton was the scientific genius behind all of the covert operations for Baxter's global domination plans. The man was cold, calculating, and merciless. He had been with the organization for years . . . outlasting all of his co-workers and superiors. Baxter knew that Edgerton often used Elias for his own purposes. But that was all right. Baxter was aware of his machinations and they suited his purposes. The man was greedy for power, fame and money . . . motives Baxter could easily understand. And because of this, he relied on the man and felt safe in doing so. Much as he hated to admit it, Edgerton was right . . . he would be extremely difficult to replace. "So tell me," he demanded harshly.
"To the best of my knowledge," Edgerton replied, as he continued his pacing, "there are only two men alive who have the necessary expertise to resolve this problem . . . already have, in fact. One of them has solved all of our current problems, and the other is capable of stealing the technology and ruthless enough to use it."
"So let's get them!"
Edgerton shook his head. "It's not that easy."
"We will make it that easy," Baxter stated with finality. "Who are they?"
"The first is a man you've already run into." Edgerton stopped his pacing and gazed at his employer steadily. "Benton Quest."
Baxter's white skin flushed in fury until it seemed the same color as his eyes. "Quest!" He made the name a curse.
"The other is a man named Jeremiah Surd," Edgerton continued, undismayed by Baxter's volatile response. "There are pros and cons to each. Quest is the man who actually created the software. Get him and you have the solution in hand. There are two major difficulties with using Quest, however. The first is actually laying our hands on the man. His security is extremely tight. He has the best of everything when it comes to hardware, and Bannon, the man who handles all his security, is totally unapproachable. Additionally, there is no way to place a plant in his organization since the person would have to be part of his immediate entourage and that group is composed solely of Quest's family and Bannon. And the second difficulty is making him talk. That, I suspect, would be even more difficult than getting him in the first place. I guarantee you, he would not cooperate."
Baxter tossed his head negligently, his entire attention now concentrated on Edgerton's words. "It would be easy enough to make the man talk. Take his son and he would sing quickly enough."
Edgerton shook his head violently. "NO! The last thing you want is to try to take more than one of the family . . . particularly Quest's son. Putting the boy in jeopardy would simply harden Quest's resolve. It would also bring Bannon down like a harpy. If we are forced to go that route, the best way to deal with it is to isolate Quest and split Bannon's attention, putting pressure on him to protect the boy and the rest of the Quest family. That would give you the time to try to break Quest and get him to cooperate." Edgerton frowned as he contemplated the situation. Finally, he shook his head. "No, I would say that taking Quest should be used only as a last resort."
"So what about this Surd? Who is he?"
"A brilliant man who has no use for the government whatsoever . . . brilliant but psychotic. He was injured in an altercation when they cut off funding for his research." Edgerton smiled grimly. "They considered both the man and his work too violent and deadly for practical use."
"What was he developing?" Baxter asked, intrigued.
"Nerve gas. A very deadly variety. When they cancelled support of his research, he planted a huge canister of it in the heart of Chicago and threatened to release it unless they reinstituted his funding."
Baxter laughed. "Gutsy. Sounds like my kind of man. Obviously, it didn't go off. What happened?"
Edgerton shrugged. "Government sent in a Special Teams Force to take him down. They managed to do it, but Surd was left paralyzed from the neck down as a result." Edgerton paused a moment before adding, "Race Bannon headed the Special Teams Force."
Baxter stopped, staring at the man as he absorbed that bit of information. "Bannon? As in the Bannon that is head of security for the Quests?"
"The very same."
Baxter thought this over for a long time. "And I suppose that Surd is not fond of Mr. Bannon."
Smiling thinly, Edgerton replied, "Hates his guts . . . and by association, the Quests as well. From what I hear, he would do almost anything to get rid of both of them."
"And Surd? Can he be trusted?"
"Trusted? Only as far as it follows his own interests. If he sees benefit out of it for himself, I suspect he'll collaborate wholeheartedly. But he's a megalomaniac . . . self-centered, greedy, ambitious, and . . . as I said . . . psychotic. And that makes him dangerous. But he hates the Quests and Bannon, he knows their systems, and he's bypassed their computer security and stolen from them before. I have no doubt he could do it again."
Baxter eyed his chief scientist with growing suspicion. "How do you know so much about the man and what he's done? Where is your information coming from?"
"I used to work for him." Edgerton paused briefly before continuing, "Right after finishing my Ph.D., before I went to work for you, I worked as part of Surd's research team. I was to have been on the boat in Chicago the day Bannon attacked, but we had had a serious computer malfunction. We needed a new module for the system and rather than waiting for it to be shipped through our normal covert channels, Surd sent me for it. I was in New York City when Bannon struck. I laid low after the raid. I didn't know how much information Bannon's team had managed to extract, so I had no idea if I was a target. Not long after the incident, I heard that fire onboard the boat had destroyed virtually all of Surd's computer files, taking any record of his research personnel with it. Surd was supposedly dead, and the rest of his organization was in shambles.
"The person who guarded Surd's back was a woman named Julia Canova. She was Surd's immediate assistant, head of security, and lover. Her brother, Lorenzo, was muscle. Not very bright, but big, strong and totally amoral. If Surd wanted it done, Julia would plan it and Lorenzo would execute. They made a formidable team. I still don't know how they did it, but Julia and Lorenzo managed to beat the government's rap and walked after the Chicago incident. I contacted Julia a couple of months later, but she wasn't interested in taking me on. She was out of the research business with Surd gone." Edgerton shrugged, "Not long after, I went to work for you."
Baxter contemplated the man briefly before he replied in a hard voice, "That's all well and good, but it's also old history. How do you know that Surd would help us now?"
"Because Surd hasn't changed. Offer him the opportunity to get back at the Quests and he'll jump at it."
"How do you know?" Baxter insisted, with a dark and suspicious look. "How do you know so much of what Surd thinks."
Edgerton stared at his employer for a long minute. Then his lips curled in a tight, self-satisfied smile and he replied, "Because I've kept in contact with Julia over the years." Edgerton could see the fury building in Baxter's face again.
"WHY?" he thundered. Baxter stepped toward the man threateningly, but Edgerton held his ground.
"Because Julia Canova is a very beautiful woman," he replied. "Surd was missing and presumed dead for better than twenty years. And once he was found alive again, he was a total invalid . . . confined to a life support wheelchair. And while Julia is completely devoted to Surd, there are certain . . . things . . . Surd is no longer capable of. I provide something she needs and vice versa. She may talk about Surd but we keep business out of it. In that respect, she goes her way and I go mine."
Baxter had stopped, watching Edgerton carefully. "And what does Surd think of that arrangement?"
Edgerton shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen the man since before the incident in Chicago in '78, and I didn't have a relationship with Julia at that point. Back then, this arrangement would have been suicide. And now? I couldn't say whether she's told him about it or not, but Surd's no fool."
Baxter was silent for a long time, pacing circles around the control room. Finally, he turned back to Edgerton and asked, "Where is this Jeremiah Surd now?"
"He's in confinement at Brattleford Prison in Pennsylvania."
Baxter paced some more. Finally, he stopped and said flatly, "We can get him out of there." Baxter turned and headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, "See to it."
"We've got to get Julia out as well." Edgerton warned. "He'll want her. She's his operational connection with the outside world."
"Then he'll have to learn to cope with a new connection. Get Surd out. The woman is extraneous."
"He won't like it," Edgerton argued, following him toward the door. "You need him cooperative. Getting Julia out is a small price to pay for his willing assistance."
Baxter swung on the man and said thinly, "I will not take the trouble to break your girlfriend out of jail, Edgerton. Surd will be happy enough to be free . . . he'll cooperate without her. Just get it done."
The door slid shut behind him and Edgerton just shook his head, angry and disgusted. Fine, he'd get it done. Let Baxter try to deal with Surd. He had no idea what he was in for. In all the time he had known Surd, the only person who had ever been able to reason with the man was Julia. And from what she had said, since Surd resurfaced, things had only gotten worse. Edgerton smiled sourly as he turned to a nearby computer console. Life certainly wouldn't be dull once those two began to butt heads!
" . . . leads to the final conclusion that enhancement of the determinate coding for random access will provide for dramatic increases in performance at the macro level."
Benton Quest leaned back with a sigh and read through the final few paragraphs again. That will do it, he thought in relief.
"IRIS, take this file, format it to NASA's publication standards, and fax it to Dr. Meyerson at Langley."
"WORKING," the soft, feminine voice of the Quest computer system replied. After a brief moment, the computer asked, "DO YOU WISH ME TO CORRECT SPELLING AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS BEFORE TRANSMISSION, DR. QUEST?"
"Hmmm? What?" Benton responded, his mind elsewhere.
"DO YOU WISH FOR ME TO CORRECT SPELLING AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS BEFORE TRANSMISSION?" IRIS repeated patiently.
Benton chuckled dryly. "Was I a bit sloppy? Yes, correct the errors, IRIS, and provide me with a highlighted copy of the changes to check."
"WORKING. DISPLAYING NOW."
Benton scanned the document quickly, made two quick changes and then said, "That looks good. Save it and transmit it with a brief note to Dr. Meyerson extending my apologies for the lateness of the submission."
"WORKING." After a few moments, the computer informed him softly, "TRANSMISSION COMPLETE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF RECEIPT RECEIVED." IRIS paused briefly, then added, "DR. MEYERSON SENDS HIS THANKS."
"Very good. Thank you, IRIS." Benton leaned back in his chair, laying his head against the high headrest and allowed his mind to drift for a few moments. Getting that report done was a load off of his mind. It had been the final report on a research project commissioned by NASA almost two years before. While not a difficult research project to design and run, it has been time consuming due to the long term testing that needed to be done. It meant one less thing to have to think about. Which was a good thing, because Benton had a feeling that something was in the wind.
He frowned as he considered yesterday's visit from Admiral Bennett. On the surface, everything seemed very straightforward. Benton knew that the military was having difficulties with their simulators. He had discussed the problem with Isaac Wolenchek more than once. And Bennett's assessment of the money issue was also true. But there was a point during yesterday's meeting when a cold finger of suspicion had moved up Benton's spine. Bennett was fishing for something specific. Benton was certain of it. And in some way or another, it involved QuestWorld.
Benton contemplated that possibility grimly. He had discussed the idea of notifying the government of the existence of QuestWorld with Race more than once. Benton tended to vacillate on the idea. Sometimes the idea seemed like a good one. With some work, QuestWorld technology would be applicable in a lot of situations. The system's high speed and multi-tasking abilities made it perfect for functions like coordinating and executing rescue operations and humanitarian efforts, screening visitors to important dignitaries, coordinating and compiling data from large research facilities and making the results readily available to co-workers, compiling symptoms of disease and searching medical databases for potential treatments, and many other applications. But one specific application had more potential than all the others, and it was the one that Benton feared the most. Military. The thought of the weapons and warfare potential of the system had kept him from sleeping more than once. Benton had made a firm commitment to himself many years ago that, if he had any say in the matter, he would never allow his inventions to be used for the purpose of killing others. He was deeply concerned that if QuestWorld became common knowledge, military applications would follow very swiftly.
Race had spoken his mind on the subject in very forceful terms. He was strongly against notifying the government of QuestWorld's existence. Race knew, with an insider's knowledge, the way the military mind worked, and he warned that the mentality would be a simple one. The knowledge and capabilities were there. If the United States didn't develop it first, someone else would, so it would be vital that we keep ahead of everyone else. It was circular logic and Benton knew it. But it was also a logic it was practically impossible to derail, because, like it or not, it was the truth. If the capabilities of QuestWorld became public knowledge, the rush to understand and duplicate it would be on. And then it was only a matter of time before someone got a similar system up and running. And from there on things would escalate rapidly. Benton shook his head in frustration. Every time he began thinking about this problem it always came back to the same thing. This was one invention that he really didn't believe the world was ready for. It was better kept quiet and unavailable. Which made Admiral Bennett's visit even more disturbing.
Benton sighed to himself. There were days when life just seemed to be moving way too fast. The decision on what to do about QuestWorld was coming . . . probably much sooner than Benton was ready for . . . and somehow he had the feeling that Bennett's visit was only the first trickle of water through a set of floodgates that was rapidly deteriorating.
Somewhere in the distance he heard dim voices . . . Jonny's voice calling some indistinguishable question and Hadji's muffled reply. Benton smiled with only the faintest trace of humor. Speaking of life moving too fast. The situation with QuestWorld wasn't the only thing that was changing. Life within his own family was shifting as well, and in this area Benton knew he wasn't prepared.
When did they change? Benton asked himself for the thousandth time. And why didn't I see it happening? His wandering gaze settled on the picture of Rachel that rested on the shelf to his right. Even from the flat, two-dimensional image captured by that long-ago camera, he could see the shimmer of sunlight in her blonde hair and the humor in her eyes. She seemed to be laughing at him. He laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, shutting out the image of his wife. As he sat there, reality seemed to recede and a soft gray mist surrounded him. Suddenly, he heard her voice whispering to him.
They grow up, Benton, the soft voice said. It's right and good . . . it's as it should be.
"But I'm not ready," he replied in a whisper, searching for her.
I know, her soft voice responded. It seemed to come from all around him. But you must learn to be. They will need you.
"I need more time." he replied desperately, "There's no hurry . . ."
You can't change this, Benton. It is inevitable.
"They're too young," he insisted to the bodiless voice.
Jonny is almost 18. Hadji is 19 and the Sultan of his own country. You can't make decisions for them any longer. You can only offer strength and guidance. To do anything else is wrong.
"I don't want them to grow up," he whispered. "I want my little boys back."
I know, Rachel's soft voice replied gently, but you must grow with them or be left behind.
"I wish you were here." She had been dead over ten years, and yet sometimes she seemed so close Benton could swear she was still standing beside him. "I need you."
I will always be here, the voice in his mind replied softly, seeming to fade. You only need to look. And then in some indefinable way, she was gone.
"Dad?" Jonny voice cut through the mists in his mind. "You awake?"
Benton raised his head and opened his eyes to see his son standing in the doorway. "Yes," he replied, his voice breaking unexpectedly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes." The reply was stronger this time. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to see the concern in Jonny's eyes. Benton chuckled, embarrassed. "I think I must have dozed off. I'm awake now, though."
Jonny snorted. "I'm not surprised. I don't think you've been to bed before 2:00 a.m. for the last week! Did you manage to finish Dr. Meyerson's project?"
"Finished and sent," Benton replied grinning at Jonny. "I think it must have been the let-down. Now what do I do?"
From behind Jonny, Jessie suddenly appeared with an eminently practical suggestion. "How about eat dinner?"
With a chuckle, Benton put his earlier doubts aside and rose to join the two young people. "That's the best offer I've had all day!"