Page 101 of Identity Unknown

“Well, he has more than one filed. But the point is to make concrete from a simulant of lunar regolith,” Daku explains.

“Huh?” Marino scowls.

“He’d stop in and buy some of the stuff to experiment with in his cellar,” Daku goes on. “Small amounts, and then he’d drop by to discuss his progress, bringing samples. And he’d call from time to time. We were working on his idea together, sort of on the side, you know.”

“What you’re saying is he was paying you under the table to assist in his research,” Marino replies. “Sounds like a sweet deal. Do your employers know about that?”

“It would be most appreciated if the details of our transactions remain private.” Tension touches his face again.

“I can’t make any promises, and we’re not who you need to worry about.” Marino turns up the investigative heat, talking the talk. “This is just the start, and the more truthful you are, the easier it will be for you later.”

“Making concrete to build structures on the moon?” I ask. “Is that why Sal Giordano was experimenting with moon dust simulants?”

“We manufacture them here. Also, Martian and other simulants, shipping tons of them to Japan and elsewhere,” Daku says.

The entire building we’re in front of makes nothing but regolith simulants. There’s other research going on with solar cells because of the perovskite mined. He explains that’s the reason Bando Solutions decided to locate here, staring off at the quarries gouged into the mountainside.

“That and the deal they made with Briley Enterprises, which owns True North Industries,” he adds.

“Well, isn’t that something,” Marino says nonchalantly, both of us masking our shock. “You know what’s happened to the Brileys, right?”

“I saw it on the news. I didn’t know them.” The way Daku says it, I believe him.

“I’m assuming you’re making simulants of perovskite as well?” I ask.

“Yes. Doping it with the real thing.”

“Was Sal Giordano involved with perovskite research?” I imagine he’d be intensely curious.

“He was quite familiar.”

“When he was here this past Monday afternoon, did he do anything involving perovskite?” I think of the nanograins Sal had under his fingernails.

“He was always interested in whatever’s going on,” Daku says. “And on Monday, I showed him some of the newest solar cell panels we’re making to generate our own power. He was thinking about installing panels on his property in Alexandria.”

But that’s not why Sal was visiting Bando Solutions, Daku goes on to say. His focus was the lunar dust simulant, and his patent has nothing to do with building habitats on the moon or Mars. NASA and other space agencies are already working on those sorts of things.

“His dream was to build the first telescope on the moon,” Daku explains.

“Out of fucking cement?” Marino blurts out.

“Absolutely.” He lights another cigarette, and I can see Marino looking at it lustfully.

“You mind?”

“Sure.” Daku taps a cigarette out of the pack, offering it to him, flicking the Bic lighter, and I can’t believe it.

Marino is cheating right in front of me. He doesn’t look at me or give it a thought, and we’re back to the old days just like that. He’s the big tough detective blowing smoke, swearing, flaunting himself like a peacock.

“What you’d do is fabricate a humongous dish by filling a crater with cement made from lunar dust.” Daku is telling us the gist of Sal’s patents. “Find a way to heat it up enough that the material turns to glass, and you’d have one hell of a stationary radio telescope up there. It would be the most powerful one ever because there’s no atmosphere on the moon to distort everything.”

“I guess that’s pretty cool,” Marino says, enjoying his bummed cigarette while I stay upwind. “But I’m not understanding how something like that could work.”

“Without question, what he designed would have. It’s a shame he’s not here to see that happen.” Daku seems deeply disappointed. “He promised me that if it did, he’d bring me into the project.”

“Obviously, you’re a scientist,” I say to him.

“A geologist.”

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