The Planck Factor

Chapter 28

I stared at Liz in disbelief. "You must be joking, right? Tell me you're joking. I mean you can't possibly be serious. No way, no way. You can't be serious!" The more I spoke, the faster my words came and the more hysterical I sounded.

Liz wouldn't return my look. She propped her elbows on the table and kneaded her temples with both hands. "None of this is my idea, Jess. I don't like it anymore than you do. I haven't liked any of this." Her voice dripped with disgust.

"Oh, yeah. Well, I've been enjoying it even less, okay? So you and your goddamned federal government can just kiss my ass!"

Liz stopped kneading long enough to venture a look my way. Her eyes were tired, pleading with me for understanding. "It's your government, too, Jessica. And this catastrophe could kill hundreds of millions of innocent people."

"Hundreds of millions?"

Liz leaned toward me. "Would you believe entire countries?"

I was stunned silent for a beat. "What kind of catastrophe could do that?"

"One involving a bomb like the one in your book, maybe?"

I nodded. "Okay, but I don't go into all the scientific details. I don't even talk about how the bomb could be built. It's all theory and it's not even accepted theory, in the real world. Are you sure this catastrophe relates to my novel?"

"Well, Fred was killed helping you research it. Then Selby was killed and he knew Fred."

I tried to think back to my meeting with Selby. Something he'd said. He'd told me Fred was killed because of something related to the novel, but he'd also said the group was relying on something he knew.

"What was Selby's major?" I muttered aloud.

"Hmm?"

"I'm trying to remember what Selby studied. I wonder if Fred ever mentioned it."

"Was it physics? Or chemistry?"

"I . . . I don't know. It had to be a science of some sort, now that I think about it. I remember when we met on campus, Selby mentioned his scientific research. But if it was physics, I would remember that, because I was so interested in finding out more about Joao Magueijo's theory, I'm sure I would have asked him about it. If I could just remember . . ."

A dark-haired man in a dark suit, blinding white shirt and dark glasses glided into the kitchen, quietly as a church mouse. A woman who could have been his sister in a nearly matching skirted version of his suit stood just behind him. Also wearing dark glasses. The Bobbsey Twins of the FBI. Or CIA. Or Homeland Security. Or whoever.

"Decision time," the man said, looking at me. At least his face was pointed my way.

"Who the hell are you guys?" I asked to the well-dressed eavesdroppers.

"Agent Owen." He whipped out a badge, then waved a hand toward his female counterpart. "My associate and I work for Homeland Security."

"How nice for you." The response seemed ludicrous, but then so did the situation.

Liz looked defeated. "Jess, they want you to wear a wire and try to confirm our theories about these people. Will you do it?"

The word "no" was poised on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. If hundreds of millions (and maybe billions) of lives were at stake, how could I say no to this? How could I just refuse and walk away?

"You see," Agent Owen said, as if the matter needed further elucidation. "You're in a unique position. They think you may have information about their plans. If we let them capture you and you can confirm exactly what they're up to, it could prevent the worst from happening."

He removed his dark glasses and I was surprised to see such friendly brown eyes behind them.

"If you pretend to help them, we don't think they'll hurt you. Pretend to be on their side, even, and try to draw them out. Meanwhile, we'll be monitoring everything that's said. And we won't let them harm you. I can assure you of that."

I opened my mouth, but the words seem to stick in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. "Two guys just tried to rape me. Then, I kicked them in their faces. How will I convince them that I'm on their side? And how do I know they won't hurt me?"

Agent Owen took a deep breath, as if the inhalation could clarify his thought processes. He pursed his lips and nodded. "I think it can be arranged."

"Arranged how?"

"We have our ways." He made a placating, palms-down gesture with both hands. "The main thing is to try to get any information that could give us a better idea of their true intentions. Anything that will help us prevent a catastrophe and keep our operative safe."

"Operative?" My brows drew together. Even Liz looked at the man in alarm. "Wait a second. If you have an operative in the group, what the hell do you need with me?"

"Our operative has come under scrutiny. This operative could be completely compromised by asking the wrong questions. If that happened, the operative would be killed and months of work would be wasted. We'd be completely screwed."

"Who is this operative?" I asked. Liz's ears seemed to perk up, too.

Owen shook his head. "Need to know only."