Jintao Read online

  “What was that? What did you feel?”

  “Nah. That’s mine,” said McGowen, reluctant to talk about his lost love, “but there’s definitely something there.”

  After the medi-bot was done, McGowen put his clothes on.

  “It’s a strange place, to be sure,” said the big Scot, pulling on his turtleneck sweater. “Quite good, though—righteously good.” He let go a little laugh. “Strange when you think about it. Our minds aren’t affected. What do you make of that?”

  “We have imaging systems that can see thoughts as they form inside the cortex. It’s not a mystery. It’s purely physical. Obviously, the same connections are still working in the Braneworld.”

  McGowen beamed a smile. “I’d go again.” Reaching his arm and pointing at von Ang, he said, “I tell you one thing. We’re more than just flesh and blood. The fact that we can come and go to that other place proves it.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Hey. What if that place is the afterlife? Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “Seriously? Come on. Let’s go to work.”

  Von Ang began disassembling the machine. He removed the control interface and pressed it into a polyfoam-lined case. A few meters away, McGowen began unbolting the wave guides, dropping fasteners on the floor as he went. A small assembly bot followed, dutifully picking up each bolt and putting it into a bag.

  “I don’t get it,” said the big Scot. “How can you say we’re only flesh and blood?”

  “I’m a scientist. I divide things into two categories. That which I know to be consistently verifiable and that which I am not sure of. Things I am not sure of are postulates. I quarantine those until they prove their relevance. Things I hold to be fact are only fact until I find out otherwise. Today there is only one thing that I am sure of. Gamma rays transmit through both the lower and the higher dimensions.”

  McGowen walked over to the medi-bot, punching in the instruction for it to fold itself into a mobile configuration. “Okay. You’re still on the fence. I respect that. But tell me this: What do you suppose would happen if someone died over there . . . in that other place?”

  “I see the Brane as an exchange system. It doesn’t care whether something is alive or dead. Mortality is an entirely different subject—one that’s out of my field of expertise. That’s one for a priest to figure out.”

  “Come on. You know what I’m talking about. Maybe that’s what happened to Master Jintao.”

  McGowen disconnected the stabilizer and packed it in a white polyfiber case lined with shock-absorbing foam. Bots carried the case outside to the landing pad and loaded it onto a cargo shuttle.

  “We have no proof,” said von Ang. “No evidence of what happened to him. Hopefully we can agree that neither of us knows what we don’t know.”

  McGowen cast a steely eye toward the young scientist, disappointed that von Ang was willing to fold the discussion so easily.

  Outside, three hours later, the bots carefully nested the equipment boxes inside the cargo shuttle. After the last crate was secured in place, the bots fastened themselves to the shuttle floor, folded themselves into a compact shape, and powered down. McGowen input the coordinates of a Jintao shipping hub on the Yangtze delta, where a crew was standing by to repack the equipment into a freight container. The contents would be mixed in with industrial parts bound for one of their corporate warehouses in Australia. There the boxes would be repacked for routing through Argentina and finally to California.

  Von Ang shut off power to the lab, finding his way up the stairwell by chocklight. There was a slight grin on his face. He was the lead scientist of a project of historic proportions and he was one of an elite few who had gone to the other side. At the same time, he was now an accomplice, helping to sneak a top-secret machine out of China. Never before had he been part of a clandestine mission and he was enjoying the idea. He could add bravery to his list of attributes, and his otherwise predictable life had been given an adventurous highlight.

  Out in the open, he found McGowen rolling up the camouflage netting.

  “I’ll see you when the new site is ready for installation,” said von Ang. “À tout à l’heure.”

  McGowen stuffed the canopy into the shuttle and shook von Ang’s hand.

  “See you on the other side of the pond,” said McGowen. “We’ll pick up where we left off.”

  27.

  While the equipment was being disassembled and packed, Quan arrived at Armando Ballister’s studio. It was after normal hours. The door was unlocked and the reception area was dark except for a small circle of light shining on the archi-tech’s chrome logo.

  He called out, “Hello,” and waited. No one answered.

  Quan ventured into the darkened hallway and overhead lights came on. At the other end of the corridor was the simulation stage where he previously viewed the penthouse sim. Faint flashes of light were coming from a room on the other side and he began to walk toward it. He stopped, seeing someone there, standing in the shadows to his right. “Hello?” he called. The figure remained motionless. Pattern recognition set in—just a swatch of cloth hanging on a light stand. He moved on.

  When he reached the doorway, a projection of the coastal property filled the room—a cliff face rising up to a broad plateau—on the far side, a continuous range of coastal mountains. The projection rotated slowly in space and a rocky ravine became visible, meandering down from the foothills, crossing the plateau and ending where a white waterfall tumbled into the blue of the Pacific Ocean.

  In front of him, a sling chair abruptly spun around and Armando’s ultrawhites flashed. He stood and greeted Quan like a friend he hadn’t seen in years. “Ahhh, Mr. Jintao. Come sit. Come sit. See what I have for you.”

  Armando spoke a few commands and wireframe outlines of buildings suddenly appeared on the plateau. Another command and the wireframes became solid structures. “The compound can be self-sustaining. There is an underground aquifer, and a solar-powered battery farm will provide electricity. I would have liked to use convection turbines along the cliffs, but the Coastal Commission banned them, something to do with the decline of sea hawks.”

  The scene continued to tilt and rotate, filling the room, giving Quan a good view of the buildings. It was a collection of shapes, each with its own character but visually related—all sleek and modern, in contrast to the soft rolling foothills to the east.

  Quan leaned back. “Impressive. You captured exactly what I wanted, as if you read my mind. Well done. How long will it take to build?”

  “Here, I’ll show you the progression.” Two wooden structures appeared a few meters east of the new buildings. “That’s the existing barn and farmhouse. It can provide temporary housing and storage while construction is under way. Well water is available and there is a generator. Of course, it lacks the amenities you’re used to—more like camping, I suppose. Per your request, the laboratory can be finished first and the rest can follow.”

  Impatient, Quan broke in. “How long will it take to build the laboratory?”

  “Excavation and site grading, foundations and retaining walls . . .”

  “How long?” Quan demanded.

  “Four months.”

  “Not good enough,” said Quan. “I want you to release the construction files three days from now. I want the laboratory ready in a month.”

  Armando looked shocked. “You know that’s impossible, don’t you?”

  Quan got up and smiled his inscrutable smile. “You’ll find a way. Work nights if you have to. Get it done on time and I’ll double your fee.”

  The words hung in the archi-tech’s ears as he watched Quan leave the room. He turned back to his work and, under his breath, said, “You don’t ask for much, do you.”

  Nine hours later, a hazmat crew set up quarantine on Kau Yi Chau Island. Radiation shields were erected around the entrance to one of the large buildings and removal of the alleged malfunctioning reactor began. In the basement, bots unbolted it
from the floor and carefully lifted it onto an industrial bobcart. Floating a meter off the ground, the heavy torus was lifted to the upper landing and piloted through the outer doors, passing with barely a centimeter to spare. Outside, the containment crew wasted no time coating the device with thick, radiation-absorbing gel and a hard poly-metal overcoat. Chained to a hovering transport, the reactor was flown to a staging facility at Dongxing. There, it was crated and loaded onto a commercial transport. It departed Chinese airspace within minutes on its way to a salvage facility in Vietnam.

  28.

  Seven kilometers from the Jintao penthouse, at the outskirts of downtown, stood a drab ten-story building with horizontal ledges protruding from its sides. In stark contrast to the gleaming structures nearby, its windows were totally opaque, preventing any glimpse of what was inside. On the roof, amid air-conditioning units, was a small metal hut of tarnished copper—isolating it from the heavy broadband communications traffic of New Hong Kong.

  Inside the hut, air drifted down from baffled inlets, descending slowly past two surveillance specialists hunched over their view fields. In front of them, vidi clips of cargo glides leaving Kau Yi Chau Island played alongside GPS data and surveillance stills of Quan and his team. One of the men snapped his fingers and pointed to a bar graph where jagged sound waves were bouncing. He slid the volume higher. The other man nodded.

  “How did it go?” asked Sealy.

  “Everything is going ahead as planned. The parts are on their way,” said Quan.

  “Can I tell Lotus what’s going on?” asked Sealy. “She’s nosy and it’s been hard for me to keep it from her.”

  “We should wait another week,” he said.

  Images and sound bites were being transmitted to a situation room several floors below. Around a stainless-steel table, in a two-tone gray room, a committee of four listened with strained attention. One of them, a senior government official with stooped posture and the cheeks of a basset hound, spoke gravely, “We’re in time to intercept, but remember this is a Jintao we are dealing with. We must be diplomatic. You can learn more with diplomacy than with force.”

  “Minister,” said one of the others, a man in blue with a particularly narrow face and thick glasses. “We must act now. He has broken the law and he is about to leave the country.”

  “You would arrest him like a common criminal?” said the senior official. “He is from a most prominent family. Thankfully, yours is but one voice. We must consider the potential outcome before acting.”

  “If you procrastinate, he will get away,” said the blue suit.

  “I will convey your concerns to the committee,” said the older man. “We will review options and decide.” Pressing hands on the table, the heavyset minister struggled to his feet. “You will wait here.” He labored his way out of the room, leaving the others bickering among themselves.

  Several minutes later the minister returned. Standing in the doorway, his cheeks fluttered as he spoke. “It has been decided. You may bring in the young Jintao and question him, but he is to be handled with utmost courtesy.”

  The man with thick glasses did not hesitate. Clearing his throat, he spoke to his wrist disk. “Proceed with extraction . . . without prejudice . . . diplomatic protocol.”

  Minutes later, at the Jintao penthouse, a government glide and four solos dropped out of the sky at an alarming rate, blue and red hazard lights flashing.

  Quan overheard Ning speaking with someone at the door and called to her. “What is it?”

  She entered the great room and said, “There are government agents asking for you. They say it is a matter of national security.”

  “What do they want?” asked Sealy, bracing herself.

  “No doubt they want to talk about the experiments,” said Quan, pressing his hand to her cheek. I’ll go talk to them.”

  He went to the doorway. “I’m Quan Jintao. How may I help you?”

  Outside, next to the door, two officers stood at attention in full dress khaki uniforms, hats with gold emblems, white gloves and black polished shoes. One of them said, “You are needed at National Security Headquarters.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “It is a matter of national security under the Reform Act of 2081. Please come with us.”

  “I’ll be right with you. Let me get my coat.”

  Ning stood her post at the rooftop door while Quan went back inside.

  Standing in front of Sealy, Quan swung his coat onto his shoulders and said, “I have to go with them. Be patient. I’m sure I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Com me if you’re going to be gone longer,” said Sealy.

  Relaxed, Quan walked into the daylight, the jacket slung over his shoulders like a cape. Out on the aeropad, four matte black tactical scooters hovered several meters above the deck. The riders appeared to be molded into each machine with their arm and leg shields lining up perfectly with the cowlings. Black visored helmets hid their faces. Next to them hovered a matte black glide banded with diagonal blue and yellow stripes, idling with its doors wide open. Quan stopped and turned to one of the uniforms.

  “Why the armed escort? Am I under arrest?”

  “They are for your protection.”

  “And if I refuse to go?”

  “We have authority to compel you.”

  Quan searched the man’s face. Pointless to argue with a robot.

  Strolling past the five solos, he looked closely. They were covered in light body armor, helmets attached to torso plates, legs snug inside the front fairings, firearms clipped to their sides, disrupters and other heavy weapons tucked within easy reach behind them.

  Overkill. Who thought it necessary to send a tactical squad to escort me? Did they think I would come out with guns blazing?

  He could com the corporate attorneys, but he knew it wouldn’t be necessary. He could see the moves and counter moves clearly.

  It was a short lift into the city and Quan recognized the building as they began their descent. He’d seen it from different vantage points before. The building reminded him of an ancient steam radiator, a dull metallic structure with ledges protruding from its sides.

  The craft settled and the uniforms egressed, posting themselves on either side of the glide door. Quan got out and looked around. His gaze fixed on the copper hut. It was a curious structure with four fans lazily turning within a cupola on its roof. It was out of place amid the air-handling systems. He saw it for what it was—a Faraday cage.

  Down three floors they went, then along a polished hallway lit with bluish light from overhead panels. They came to an abrupt halt and his escorts parked themselves on either side of a doorway. “Please. Go in,” said one of them, extending an arm. “They’re waiting for you.”

  Quan entered a room without windows. The walls were glossy white and, at the center, was a black conference table. Seated around the table were seven people. Three of them sat at the far end—familiar, identical blue suits and black ties. Quan couldn’t help but snicker—the same three who had visited his office. The others were men of different ages, the eldest of whom had gowl-like cheeks. He spoke first.

  “Mr. Jintao. Thank you for joining us. Please sit.”

  “Why am I here?” asked Quan, taking his place opposite the older man.

  “Before we get started, may I offer you something? Water? Tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Quan looked over his shoulder at the doorway and spoke briskly. “Bringing me here under armed guard wasn’t necessary. If you had asked politely I would have come of my own volition.”

  “It was diplomatic protocol —an armed escort.”

  “It was unnecessary and it upset my banlu. Who are you and why am I here?”

  “My name is Tso and we need to discuss a few security issues with you,” said the older man. “This is an unofficial inquiry.”

  Putting hands on the arms of his chair, as if getting ready to leave, Quan said, “Security i
ssues. What security issues?”

  The older man leaned back and nodded to the man on his right, a man of Mongolian decent, with an athletic build that took the creases out of his starched white shirt. Fingering his tie, the man spoke in a husky voice. “I have the file here.”

  “And who are you?”

  “My name is Manchu.” Thumbing his way down a handheld viewer he read, “On February 19, 2089, you and three people presumed to be working for you entered the restricted work site on Kau Yi Chau Island. We have reports that you visited Kau Yi Chau again, with the same individuals, on six other occasions. These meetings are under investigation.”

  “Jintao Corporation is under contract to work at Kau Yi Chau,” said Quan.

  Manchu slid his thumb down further. “Equipment from the Kau Yi Chau facility was removed and shipped out of the country. These actions were not related to the construction of the Kau Yi Chau energy station.” The man looked up. “We believe you have taken this equipment for your own use and you’re exporting it to another country. It also appears that you’ve taken valuable research that should be under the control of the Central Science Committee.”

  The older man chimed in, “Not very smart for an educated man such as yourself. Perhaps you didn’t know these acts are illegal.”

  Excellent intel, thought Quan. “I’m well aware that stealing government property is illegal. However, your information is flawed. May I ask who gave you this information?”

  “I am not . . .”

  Quan nodded and finished the sentence with him. “ . . . at liberty to say. Yes, I’ve heard that before.” Quan continued in a calm voice, loud enough for the blue suits at the end of the table to hear. “The officials from the Central Science Committee should be commended. They do an excellent job of protecting our national secrets, but these allegations are groundless. For one thing, these items are not government property.” Seeing the man’s blank expression, Quan continued, “Until the power station on Kau Yi Chau Island is functional, the equipment belongs to the Jintao Corporation.”