The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(31)

As the knife jerked free of the merc’s chest, a small stream of arterial blood spurted into Abdul's face. There was no second spurt of blood. Abdul should be drenched in the slick, warm wetness of the merc’s blood, but he wasn’t. Instead, a slow, knowing grin spread across his opponent's face as the fellow's grip continued to strengthen, driving the merc’s knife closer and closer to Abdul's throat.

Apart from a great sense of sorrow, as the knife smoothly parted the skin of his neck, Abdul had only one more thought: “Now that is the correct amount of blood.”





Chapter 21





The national news media was rife with speculation about the sensational quadruple murder in Los Alamos. Fingerprints found in the house had quickly been identified as belonging to the international terrorist known as Abdul Aziz, and although a stolen car with the same prints was discovered nearby, no trace of Aziz himself had yet been found, despite a wide net of roadblocks and FBI raids.

Since the murdered man was one of the inner circle of physicists reputed to be working with Dr. Stephenson on the Rho Ship, a host of theories were being generated about what information might have been forced out of him before he died. Dr. Stephenson made the rounds of several Sunday-morning talk shows in an attempt to provide reassurance that nothing of great national significance could have been revealed. Project information was far too compartmentalized for that. No single person on the project had unfettered access to all the information.

“Except for you,” a reporter had pointed out.

Dr. Stephenson had merely smiled that cold, thin smile of his and moved on to the next question.

Amidst congressional outcries, government security for the lab and its personnel was increased yet again, with special security contingents now being assigned to protect top figures on the Rho Project in much the same way that the secret service provided security for the president and his family.

In the midst of all of this excitement, Heather and Jennifer had finally gotten Mark’s interest focused back on something other than basketball, although that game remained at the top of his priority list.

Over a year ago, Heather had read an article on quantum twins. Quantum theory predicted and experimentation had shown it possible to produce a pair of particles that shared the same quantum state. If something was done to one of the particles that changed its state, the state of the other particle changed at exactly the same time.

This was true no matter how much distance separated the pair, something that at first glance appeared to violate the special theory of relativity's prohibition on any information traveling faster than the speed of light. But the twin particles were bound together as if by magic.

The alien equations suggested a way to create a pair of semiconductor switches, each doped with a quantum twin that controlled the open and closed state of the switch. Apply a current that closed one, and its twin would close, no matter if it was located across the room or across the galaxy.

As Heather finished explaining the workings of the quantum twin microswitches, Mark’s eyes lit up.

“The switches communicate with no transmissions?”

Heather nodded. “None whatsoever.”

“That means we could send untraceable communications,” Mark said.

Jennifer leaned forward. “More than that. We could send and receive any kind of digital data—video, audio, computer data, anything.”

“And,” said Heather, “if we put one of the twins in a device, all we have to do is hook up the other twin the same way and we get a clean remote copy.”

Mark rose to his feet. “We’re going to need some decent electronic tools to build them.”

“I think we should ask Dad,” said Jennifer. “You know how he’s always trying to get us interested in the stuff he does.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mark responded.

“And I’ll see if my dad will chip in a little cash too,” said Heather.

Convincing their fathers to outfit them with a set of good electronic instruments turned out to be the easiest part of the task. Both dads were ecstatic that their kids had finally gotten interested in electronics projects. They even scrounged up a used oscilloscope and red laser, the types commonly found in college labs.

All that week, working around homework sessions and basketball practice, the smell of solder hung heavy in their workshop, which was set up in a corner of the Smythe garage. By Thursday night, the laser modifications were complete, and while it would never burn a hole through metal, the end product was a laser capable of producing variable frequency light in a very tight beam, something that was crucial for the doping process that made the alien microswitches work.

Given time, Heather felt confident they could eventually improve the process to the point where mass production would be possible. For now, though, they just needed a single working quantum twin microswitch pair.

Exhausted but happy, Heather said good-bye to her two friends and made her way back to her house. It was funny. There were boatloads of news media reports and, no doubt, scads of foreign agents scurrying around the area, trying to dig up something on the Rho Ship. But here, right under their noses, was a small lab getting ready to produce its own alien technology components. And the whole thing was being done by some high school kids out of a garage in White Rock.

Heather’s dad greeted her as she entered the kitchen.