Pulses, p.26
Pulses, page 26
“You don't think a hydrogen bomb exploded at just the right time would blow it out into space?” Redleaf asked breaking his silent ruminations.
“No. I'm afraid not, except maybe in the movies. We're talking about billions of tons if the pilot is to be believed. Matter of fact, I ran a little experiment yesterday after Alex mentioned the extra mass on board. I figured if the mass was as great as he indicated it would exert a noticeable pull toward the ship. I set a nickel on edge in line with the ship. When I released it, it began to roll toward it. I don't think the terrace was sloped. I think the coin was falling toward the mass Alex was talking about.”
Dan shuddered involuntarily.
Bourne was still leaning over the steering wheel trying to get a clear view of the road as they approached the roadblock. “There seems to be an awful lot of military up ahead.”
Luke leaned forward to get a better view. Dan pointed toward a figure standing in front of the roadblock giving some kind of briefing to the assembled troops.
“Slaytor,” Luke said through clenched teeth.
Dan nodded. “I think you’re right.”
Bourne pulled up directly behind the man. A uniformed guard ran up to the side of the car. “No one allowed beyond this point.” He swung his M16 off his shoulder and brought it across his chest. “You'll have to move on. Now.” He waved the tip of the rifle in the direction he wanted them to go.
“Now just a minute,” Bourne started.
“Now, mister,” the guard yelled, his ugly red rimmed eyes glaring back in disbelief that anyone would argue with him.
The man giving the briefing turned toward the car. Dan leaned back in the seat and folded her arms across her chest. “Yep. That's him all right.”
Slaytor swaggered over to the guard who now pointed the muzzle of his carbine at the car. “They don't seem to want to move along, colonel.”
Slaytor leaned down to peer into the driver's window. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Just about the complete crew.” He turned to the guard. “You say you're having a little trouble getting them to move along, eh?”
The soldiers across the street grinned in anticipation of some action from this new colonel.
“Yes, sir,” the guard answered, a little embarrassed at not being able to move them along himself.
“Well why don't we ask them to step outside for a spell and let's just see if we can't get to the bottom of this little misunderstanding.”
“Slaytor, we're not here to entertain your ambitions as a street crossing guard,” Luke said easily. “We've got business down the road there.” He nodded toward the south.
Dan had put her hand on Luke's arm in an effort to quiet him. Now she spoke in harsh whispers trying to get his attention, but it did no good.
“It's buffoons like you, Slaytor, that have given the impression to the average citizen that the leadership in the U.S. Forces are selfish, bumbling, fools.”
The slack skin around Slaytor's eyes had turned purple as he listened. His face matched the sky behind him.
“Get some men over here,” Slaytor hissed to the guard without taking his eyes off Luke. “Get out of that car, asshole.”
Luke pushed the door open. Several of the troops from across the street had started making their way over to the car.
“All of you, get out,” Slaytor yelled. He glared at the approaching troops. “Get them out. And apprehend that man there,” he said, pointing to Redleaf. “He's active duty military.”
Bourne had a bored expression as he looked out at Slaytor. “You have no jurisdiction here in town, son. Now get these men out of the way so I can get on with my business.”
“Get them all out,” Slaytor howled.
The doors on the right flew open. Arms reached in and dragged Dan and Redleaf out onto the pavement.
Slaytor still stared at Bourne's door with a glazed cast in his eyes. Bourne spoke again. “You need to pull yourself together, soldier, and get these troops out of our way. We've got things to do.”
Slaytor grabbed for the door handle and tried to snatch the door open. It was locked. His hand slipped off the handle as he yanked at it. With a deliberate motion he reached through the open window and lifted the latch, then he seemed to lose control. He pulled the door open so hard it almost tore loose from its hinges. As the door rebounded, Slaytor grabbed Bourne by his coat collar and pulled him headlong out onto the damp pavement. Bourne's cheek scraped along the pavement as he hit. The incident seemed to galvanize the other troops into action. They began to push and shove until Luke, Dan, and Redleaf had their backs against the wet car. Several troops grabbed Bourne and pulled him up off the ground. The momentum carried him forward onto the car's left front fender.
Luke pulled one arm free and tried to push away from the car. He accidently slapped an M16 a nearby guard held at the ready. The weapon fired a single round into the air.
The sharp crack of the weapon froze the action all across the intersection. The soldiers turned to Slaytor for instructions.
“Well, don't just stand there staring at me,” Slaytor bellowed at the young soldiers. “Search them.”
“Search them for what?” one soldier asked seriously.
“For weapons, you idiot. They're under military arrest.”
This last statement, plus the hesitation several soldiers had shown after seeing the ugly violet scrape along Bourne's flushed skin, broke the cocksureness the guards had felt only a minute before.
Luke pulled free and stepped out in the clear. “Under arrest for what?”
“Under arrest for failing to follow the orders of a military officer carrying out official duties to protect federal land,” Slaytor countered.
“Where have you been the last fifty years?” Luke laughed. “We're in downtown Albuquerque. He pointed across the street. “Federal land doesn't start until you get to that fence over there. You're standing in the middle of a city street like a lost tin soldier.”
“You're a real smart ass aren't you, Dawson?” Slaytor breathed heavily. He had his hands on his hips as if addressing a contingent of troops. “That's the attitude that got you thrown out of the Air Force.”
Luke scratched his head in mock puzzlement and looked around, grinning at the troops. “I guess you didn't hear it right. I resigned.”
“Thrown out. Quit. No difference. So you’re a quitter instead. Never contributing anything worthwhile to society.”
“Sounds to me like you are a little short on specifics.”
Slaytor drew back, then broke into a sly little smile of deference. Two rows of tiny gray teeth glistened from behind his tight lips. “I can be as specific as you like, Mister Dawson.” A stray gust of cold wind whipped the green collar of his new fatigue jacket. “It was your own incompetent effort down there at the OHR site and your pass-the-buck cries for help to my office that lead me to send White and one of my overworked surveillance technicians down to help you out of your mess. And what a mess it was. Not that you weren't able to screw it up further by getting my technician killed and using the host nation's military aircraft under false pretense.” Slaytor now stabbed his finger in Luke's face as he spoke.
“And there you were, poor dear,” Dan intoned, “stuck to the seat of your big desk chair back in Europe.”
Slaytor glanced sideways with his eyes then ignored the dig. “And now you morons have gotten together and decided on your own to tell the public, Russians and all, about the biggest break the U.S. military has gotten since the development of the atomic bomb. I read about that thing out there,” he pointed dramatically out into the desert, “in the Stars and Stripes.”
“Well quite frankly, Slaytor, we considered classifying the view south from Albuquerque but we didn't think the government could act fast to brief a half million citizens on the Secrets Act before one of them spilled the beans.”
“You're an absolute moron, Dawson. At least I was able to rid the Air Force of you and some of your kind.” Slaytor looked pointedly at Dan. “Along with your Captain Wells, the All-American slob. I saw to it that the new commander passed Wells' effectiveness report up to me for comment. I sent him a copy after I put my recommended endorsement on it. He should have had no illusions that he would ever find a career in the service. As a matter of fact, I received a briefing this morning on your tracer action to locate him. It seems he did the only sensible thing he could in his situation.”
Luke waited for more about Tony but Slaytor just stood in front of him smirking. Luke rose to the bait. “What about Captain Wells?”
“He took a flying leap off the tenth floor of a hotel in Tampa three days ago. Killed a bougainvillea bush when he hit the ground.”
The wind snapped at Luke's jacket sleeve. In the corner of his vision Dan's drawn face was framed in flying wisps of ashen hair, her eyes frozen. An acrid revulsion clawed at his throat as he stared back into Slaytor's face. His nylon wind breaker whistled as he swung his arm in a right cross into Slaytor's prominent nose. The grinding sound of broken cartilage was more sickening than gratifying. Slaytor fell like a sack of cement as his head whipped back. He followed the trajectory of the punch all the way to the pavement. His head bounced off the street with an audible crack.
Luke thought for a second that he might have killed him, but when he looked down into the bloodied face, Slaytor's eyes met his through a haze of confusion and hatred. As Luke towered over him, Slaytor’s confusion fell away to be fully replaced with a malice emanating from deep inside.
Bourne thought of Number 37.
Luke looked up into the muzzle of an M16 pointed at his face by the guard that had earlier stopped them. Dan reached out to touch his arm or perhaps pull him back from harm. To his right a round slammed into its chamber and another guard raised his weapon. No one spoke. No one moved. Then Luke glanced at some movement across the street. Partially concealed behind a carwash a CBS film truck silently filmed the sequence.
Chapter 30
At Luke's insistence, Bourne and Dan had left the area of the road block, leaving him and Sergeant Redleaf in the custody of the small garrison at the intersection. Luke had assured them that he would be back at the hotel within a few hours. Bourne had also seen the film truck and knew that the smart thing to do was for at least some of them to get free of the military contingent. If they all ended up in custody, there would be no one on the outside to present their side of the story if the news people got it wrong.
“Not that I think things have reached such a point that the military is able to hold citizens incommunicado,” Bourne had said to Dan on the way back, “But that Slaytor fellow is an exceedingly unpleasant fellow.”
“Tell me. I used to work for him.”
“I gathered that you might have known him from some of the remarks that were flying around.” Bourne rubbed carefully at the abrasion on his cheek.
“I'm really sorry about the way he treated you back there. When we get to the hotel, let me stop by the pharmacy and I'll get something to take care of that scrape.”
“If you don't mind I think I'll stop by my office on the way back. I've got some bandages there. And don't apologize for that dolt,” Bourne said with a grimace, “If he hadn't caught me by surprise with his irrational behavior, it wouldn't have been necessary for Luke to deck him. I would have done it myself. But I take it Luke was baited into it by the reference to your friend's death.”
“Tony Wells?” Dan looked down at her hands then out at the mountains. “Tony was very smart. It was Tony that solved many of the problems we had in establishing contact with Alex. I don't think Tony would have done what Slaytor said just because of what Slaytor did to him, though. Tony was married without any children to hold the family together. When the Air Force shipped Tony to North Africa he had to leave his wife back in Florida. I suspect that as happens to so many returning military his wife had found someone else in his absence.” She blinked back tears and looked out at the mountains again. “Poor Tony. There were so many who didn’t understand his loyalty and talent”
The Cadillac turned off the main road and headed toward the west side of town.
***
Bourne swung the big car into a circular drive that ran in front of a squat, brick building.
“Here we are.”
It was the only building on that side of the street except for a shed sitting off to one side. The rest of the neighborhood was residential, consisting of older two and three story frame houses, most in a mock Victorian style. Across the street from the office building an ornate well-cared-for three story house sat back from the street behind a manicured lawn bordered in zinnias and marigolds. Its high-arched windows opened out over the office building with an air of disdain.
“What a beautiful house.”
“Thank you.”
“It's yours?”
Bourne smiled broadly before he realized his head still hurt. “Of course. How do you think I was able to persuade the zoning board to allow me to build my laboratory right across the street from it?” Bourne opened his door. “Anyway it's handy. Come on inside the office and I'll get you some coffee or something while I get patched up.”
The double glass front doors led into a large multipurpose waiting room, conference room, and general administrative work area. At the end of the room a stocky, blonde girl sat at a desk sorting through stacks of manila folders.
“My trusted assistant Sarah Olsen,” Bourne said as the young woman stood up. She was tall, Dan noted. “And this is Dan White,” Bourne continued, “The one I told you about last night.”
A spark of interest flashed in Sarah's eyes. “How adventuresome to have traveled all over the world and to have contacted an alien culture in the process.” Then she saw the discolored area on Bourne's cheek and flew from behind the desk with anxious sounds.
“It's nothing,” Bourne assured her. “Perhaps you'd be kind enough to get us all a little coffee while I clean myself up, Sarah.”
“I can fix coffee. Sarah, you go help the doctor. Just point me in the right direction.”
As the coffee perked, Dan wandered around the large area looking at the various anatomical charts and multicolored graphs that adorned the walls. Then to the front windows where that exquisite facade of the Victorian house across the street looked down on her. Its front porch ran around both sides of the house and was trimmed with ornate veining and valances where the columns met the roof. White balusters around the roof gave evidence of yet another open porch above the first. Sheet copper still shiny in the dry desert air, covered the steep roof and gables.
Turning away from the windows, Dan noticed a large wooden door with a small rectangular window set in it. The door evidently led to the rear of the laboratory. Crossing the room, she peered into the window where row upon row of animal cages converged toward the back some fifty feet away. The dim forms of animals moved slowly inside the cages. Most of them seemed to be primates. Dan was still peering in at the imprisoned menagerie when Bourne and Sarah emerged from the double doors at the other end of the waiting room.
“So, you've discovered my little menagerie,” Bourne said, as he pulled his jacket back on.
“Oh, I hope you don't mind my looking around.”
“No. No. Not at all. That's part of my research effort back there. Sarah here is their caretaker.” Sarah smiled shyly then set about pouring coffee.
Dan accepted a cup and slid onto a plush leather couch along the wall. She asked, “You do medical research?”
“Brain research.”
Dan shivered thinking of the animal forms locked inside the cages.
“It's not as bad as all that,” Sarah interjected with a quick glance at Bourne. “The animals are well cared for here.”
Dan smiled a little weakly. “I guess I was overly impressed by The Island of Doctor Moreau.”
Bourne laughed with a deep boom until he felt the adhesive stuck to his face. “In a way you're right, Dan. It's a different world back behind those doors. Animal minds have been altered in ways even I would not have thought possible several years ago.”
“What do you mean?” Dan asked a little troubled.
“For years I've been extirpating small sections of brain tissue from lab animals and mapping the changes in the animals’ behaviors. By doing that, I hoped to discover what specific neural areas interacted to control various functions which were too complex for a single area to coordinate. I soon realized that the mammalian brain was held in a very delicate balance. The transition between normal behavior and uncontrolled rage is handled somewhere in the area of the amygdala. Extremely minute changes in this area, either physical or chemical, set off avalanches of reactions throughout the brain. Just as you saw today, incidentally, when Luke's threshold was crossed.”
“I wouldn't call what happened out there a minute incident,” Dan said.
“Yes, but the forces keeping Luke in check were tremendous. All of his upbringing and later military training were holding him back. What happened out there today almost didn't take place. Something tripped at the last second. I doubt Luke even realized it until it was too late.”
“I think you might be right on that count. Interesting. What were you leading up to?”
“Let me digress for a moment if I may,” Bourne said in his best professorial voice. “Man's brain is actually a series of separate brains layered one on top of the other. Nature is very thrifty. She never throws out an earlier model in favor of the latest line. Instead, she modifies the old line by building on to it. Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny as you probably learned in freshman biology.”
Dan tried to remember what the somehow familiar words meant. “I think that's one of the things I managed to forget after finals.”
“And no wonder. It simply means that the changes a fetus undergoes on the way to becoming a mature individual repeat all the previous evolutionary stages that lead to the species that produced the fetus. The development is somewhat like playing the music of a great composer. Each movement, indeed each bar, moves forward to a masterpiece of music. You can throw minor changes in here and there, and so long as the changes are not too great, the totality of the piece will sound essentially the same to the untrained ear. The music flows and builds toward the final product; each piece depending on what came before and leading to what is yet to come.” Bourne gave a deep sigh of wonderment at the whole idea. “But I hasten to add that the recapitulation theory has lost much of its earlier allure with the biologists.”
