The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(98)
Only now did he notice the car was not NYPD. It had local markings. The officer was a local sheriff. Fenton answered, “Yes, I’m Marcus Fenton. What can I do for you?”
The sheriff paused for a moment, as he had been trained to do when delivering bad news. “Did a Michael Barnes work for you?”
CHAPTER 106
American Heritage Foundation, Alexandria, Virginia, May 28, 8:58 a.m.
The conference room inside the American Heritage Foundation was dead silent. Bob Stenson stood next to the large mahogany table, staring down at the devices sitting in the middle of it—the laptop supercomputer and the echo box, which had until last night been in the possession of Edward Parks and Skylar Drummond. There was also a second, commercially available computer, which belonged to the balding scientist Stenson had brought in to test Edward Parks’s device. The scientist’s computer was wired to Parks’s supercomputer, running system diagnostics.
The scientist, Carter Harwood, was the only person Stenson had ever trusted to work on Edward Parks’s devices. Like all Foundation employees and independent contractors, Harwood had come to their attention through strong personal recommendations. He had also survived their exhaustive background check. A great many leading scientists, it turned out, had a flag or two in their personal histories that disqualified them from further consideration by the Foundation. Such was the case with Pembrose and Landgraf, the scientists Senator Davis had brought with him to JB MDL. One was a former heroin addict. The other had started undergoing hormone therapy for gender reassignment.
When Stenson had cleared Harwood, twelve years ago, the Foundation director knew his man might never be capable of completing Edward Parks’s research, should it go unfinished for one reason or another, but Stenson was certain that Harwood could be trusted. And, ultimately, that was more important. Because what Stenson really needed in this position was a forger, not an artist. It was Harwood who produced the duplicate machines that had just been tested in the nondescript building on the grounds of JB MDL. He knew the devices better than anyone except for Edward Parks himself. Which was why Stenson listened when Harwood said there was a problem.
On the laptop supercomputer’s screen, there was an incomplete three-dimensional rendering of the conference room space. The progress counter read: 13 percent. The counter hadn’t changed in twenty-two minutes.
Stenson was immediately thankful he had not yet ordered the end of Edward Parks, who still might have a purpose to serve, after all. “Why isn’t it working?”
“I don’t know yet. I can’t give you an answer until I finish running the diagnostics.” Harwood, calm and clinical, motioned to his own computer, which was connected to Eddie’s. Harwood’s $3,000 machine was going to reveal what was wrong with the $300,000 machine.
Stenson looked around the table to his three lieutenants, who seemed equally dumbfounded. “Any ideas?”
Caitlin McCloskey pointed to the scratches from where Eddie had dropped the devices. “Maybe they were damaged when they were dropped.”
Harwood shook his head. “That was my first thought as well. But it’s not the case. I’m sure of it. Whatever the problem is, it’s not hardware related.”
Jason Greers asked, “So why would it work yesterday, but not today? Something has to have changed.”
Daryl Trotter made a comment that caused everyone to stiffen. “Only if the device was actually working yesterday.”
Jason took immediate offense, because this entire wild-goose chase had essentially started with him. “What are you suggesting, that the doctor and her mental patient faked the recordings?”
Daryl couldn’t stop himself from correcting Jason. “Technically, they’re echo reconstructions, not recordings.”
Jason snapped, “Whatever they are!”
Caitlin smiled briefly, knowing how much their boss disliked emotional outbursts. Jason was losing his cool.
Daryl remained completely even-keeled. “I’m not suggesting anything, Jason. I’m clarifying that there are two possible scenarios. One scenario is that the three reconstructions stored on the device—the one with Dr. Fenton and Michael Barnes, the one with the boy being hit, and the one of the kidnapping suspect being interrogated—are legitimate. In that case, you are correct. Something had to have changed. But if they’re not legitimate, the logic doesn’t follow.”
Stenson chimed in. “They’re legitimate. We know too much about Skylar Drummond and Edward Parks. Neither is capable of the kind of forethought to have intentionally set all this in motion. It’s simply too far-fetched.”
Vindicated, Greers glared smugly at Trotter, who shrugged. He was only trying to help. He wanted to make sure they considered every alternative. “So what changed?”
Harwood looked up as the diagnostics concluded. “Nothing.”
Jason stared at him. “Not possible.”
The scientist stared right back. “Machines don’t lie. I’m telling you I’ve compared every line of code from the previous version I tested, which I had stored on my machine, to the present version on the Parks machine. Not a single character in a single line of code changed.”
Caitlin McCloskey was dumbfounded. “So how do you explain it?”
Jason Greers didn’t know. Neither did Bob Stenson. Then Daryl Trotter got an idea. “Does each reconstruction include a separate file of the original degenerated sound waves that served as the basis for the reconstruction?”