Page 103 of Identity Unknown

“No animals except what’s in the caves. Bats, an occasional rat snake. Spiders, salamanders, millipedes.” He indicates the far side of the room.

Through an open doorway I can see the interior of a gloomy cavern, the rough stone walls unevenly lighted. I remember what Lee told me about volcanic activity forming igneous rocks that are necessary for the fabrication of moon dust and also perovskite.

“… They want us to be their slaves, brainwashing us into believing it’s for our own good…” The talk show host continues spewing his venom.

“Sorry about that.” Daku finds the radio, turning down the volume. “One of the security guys listens to it nonstop. Me, I can’t stomach any more politics.”

“Tell me about it,” Marino says as we look around at wall-mounted video displays.

The livestreaming images are captured by the network of cameras throughout the True North plant, its quarries and mines, and also the operations going on at Bando Solutions. I’m not surprised to realize that Marino and I would have been spotted the moment we approached the plant’s entrance.

We’re being observed now, I suspect as I continue looking around. But it’s not Carrie Grethen or the Brileys spying on us. It can’t be Mira Tang either.

“What is this room we’re in?” Marino asks.

“Sort of mission control,” Daku says. “Where we make sure everything is as it should be.”

On monitors are live images of the grinders, the crushers, the kilns, the silos. I notice that a faux leather sofa opens intoa bed, a corner of a wrinkled sheet hanging out from under a cushion. There’s a small refrigerator, a kitchen table, a sink with a dish rack, everything needed to camp out.

“So, I’m going to show you the most recent result from when Doctor Giordano was here last month,” Daku says. “This is very close if not exactly the right formula depending on how it would do in the extreme conditions of outer space. During solar flares and meteor strikes, for example. And gravity’s not the same on the moon, of course.”

He sits down at a desk that has a knapsack on top along with a SpaceX coffee mug and the photograph of a pretty young woman. Unlocking a drawer, he pulls out a blue cloth briefcase that has a black shoulder strap, and I’m startled as I recall what Gus Gutenberg said about a briefcase fitting that description.

“Did Sal Giordano bring this when he was here on Monday?” I ask.

“Yes.” Daku opens the briefcase, pulling out a cardboard box.

“When he gave the briefcase to you on Monday, it had your payment in it, I assume,” Marino says.

“And his latest sample.”

He proudly hands the box to me, and I remove the lid. Inside on a nest of cotton is a small pale gray block of what looks like everyday concrete. I feel its weight and smooth, polished texture, imagining how excited Sal must have been about a dream he didn’t divulge to NASA, the NSA, the CIA, the president of the United States or scarcely anyone, including me.

He was determined to invent a lunar telescope that would help us better understand how the universe was formed, and whowe are. His invention would be built on the moon, leaving his legacy, and I’m pained he didn’t share this with me. I’m also not surprised in the least. Sal didn’t go into much detail about his work in general, and I understand why now better than ever.

He never mentioned his patents, and I was unaware that he’d filed any. But in the end, he wanted me to know about his dream and make sure it wasn’t forgotten. Or more likely stolen, the lunar telescope built by the Russians first. Now that Carrie’s been caught, hopefully that won’t happen as easily, if at all.

Whoever rules the moon, rules Earth,Sal used to say.It’s called King of the Hill, amore…

I envision the code in the microphotograph he must have taken recently:

TN-5L-7R-9L

Its childlike simplicity touches me. I’m reminded of a scavenger or treasure hunt, an innocent game. I hand Marino the concrete block made from simulated moon dust. He looks at it, returning it to the box with a shrug.

“I still don’t get how you turn something like that into a telescope any more than I could shoot somebody with a cinderblock,” he decides.

“Not an optical telescope. But a radio telescope,” Daku reiterates as if that settles the confusion.

“Then I guess you could turn a sidewalk or empty swimming pool into a telescope,” Marino says a touch snidely.

“Ummm… I don’t think so, but not sure.” Daku ponders this for a few seconds.

“Is there a way to get out of here without walking back through the entire fucking place with all this damn PPE on?” Marino the tough guy asks him.

“The next connecting building is the crop-dusting hangar. The door’s probably rolled up because the fumes are strong in there, especially now that it’s warmer. You can go out that way if you’d rather.”

“That would be better.” Marino is sweating in his coveralls, and I’m desperate for fresh air.

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