Wormhole (The Rho Agenda #3)(18)
Dr. Frell nodded, sweat beads popping from his brow despite the sixty-degree temperature maintained throughout the underground bunker complex.
General Kharnov rubbed his palms together as if in anticipation of the next exchange. “New subject. What about the nanite formula you were using at Henderson House? Have you replicated it?”
“No, sir, we have not. I directed our initial efforts here toward reproducing the successful first formulation. What we had at Henderson House was a failure.”
“So you made no progress there?”
“No. We made many advances. Unfortunately we failed to resolve the problems that arose from those advances within the time allotted us.” A frustrating response.
“And if you were given more time?”
Dr. Frell stared directly into General Kharnov’s eyes. “Given sufficient time, I believe I can deliver a formulation that can correct any human deficiency.”
As much as Dr. Frell’s quibbling annoyed him, the man’s potential future successes meant that Kharnov would continue to tolerate the American scientist.
“How much time would you say you need?”
“Six months.”
“Done.” General Sergei Kharnov paused. “But I have one more question before I let you return to your work.”
“Yes?”
“The formula you failed with at Henderson House. Can it be weaponized?”
Dr. Frell paused, his eyes losing their focus for several seconds. “Well...yes, General. I believe there might be a way.”
Heather sat beside Mark’s bed, holding his hand while he slept. He’d been unconscious for eighteen hours before awakening with a sharp headache, his bloodshot eyes giving mute testimony to the mind storm he’d endured. After managing to swallow some vegetable soup, he’d drifted into a fitful sleep. But as she held his hand, Mark’s face finally relaxed in peaceful repose.
Since then, except for obligatory bathroom breaks, Heather hadn’t left his side. Jennifer had offered to help her, but Heather had declined, more for herself than because Mark needed her there. Seized by an irrational fear that he’d slip away forever, she couldn’t bear more than a few minutes of separation.
In addition to Jen’s periodic visits, Jack had been in twice to check on Mark’s recovery. Heather had asked him about Robby, and he reported that the baby seemed to be doing fine. After they’d removed the alien headset, Robby had sought his mother’s breast, feeding and then falling sound asleep in her arms. Today, apart from being more playful and curious than usual, he’d shown no unusual symptoms from his trauma. Janet hovered over the child like a mama bear, alert for any sign of danger.
Through the window, the pink evening sky darkened to purple. The chirps of birds in the trees outside Mark’s open window grew in volume as more and more of the creatures settled in for the night, each determined to outsing its neighbors.
Heather reached out to turn on the lamp, its soft orange glow pushing the gathering shadows away from Mark’s bed. Somehow those shadows seemed to have acquired the thickness of San Francisco Bay fog swallowing the Golden Gate Bridge. As long as she was here, Heather wasn’t about to let that dark fog touch him.
Heather shook her head to clear it. She no longer required sleep, but the stress of the last two days had worn her down to the point that she longed for the relief of sleep’s healing embrace.
Suddenly Mark shifted, rapid eye movements indicating he’d entered a vivid dream state. Pain lanced through Heather’s fingers as Mark’s grip tightened. With a strong tug, she managed to pull her hand free from the iron grip, just as Mark awakened.
Heather felt him enter her mind with a force greater than any she had experienced during their headset links. A gasp of surprise slipped from her lips as her gaze shifted to his face.
Mark’s eyes had gone milky white.
President Leonard Jackson sat behind his desk in the Oval Office, the bright television lights adjusted to balance the light from the window directly behind the president’s chair. He hated waiting almost as much as he hated giving speeches, but it had to be done.
The cameraman nodded. On cue, the president leaned forward ever so slightly.
“My fellow Americans, I come before you today to correct a wrong that has been done to one of our true heroes. I do not speak of a war hero, but of an American who has spent a lifetime of hard work, a lifetime of true brilliance, sacrificing everything in the hopes of bringing about a better world, a world free of the damaging impact of fossil fuels, a world free of horrible diseases like AIDS and cancer.
“Late last year, this great American scientist found himself caught up in a maelstrom of disinformation, the victim of the most sophisticated con job ever conceived, framed for alleged crimes by a man the press has dubbed Jack the Ripper. This rogue operative conceived of and executed an operation so intricate in its attention to detail that, for months, it even deceived the US government, and in the midst of that deception, caused us to imprison the wrong man.
“Dr. Donald Stephenson, deputy director of the Los Alamos National Laboratory, has been accused of conducting secret and horrifying experiments on helpless patients at the facility known as Henderson House and of making unauthorized modifications to the Rho Project’s nanite serum, allowing the nanites to be remotely programmed for nefarious purposes. However, after a thorough investigation, we have determined that these allegations are false.