Page 74 of Silver Fire

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Justin Bishop surveyedthe barn on a rundown farm off Route 522 in Culpeper, Virginia. The location was perfect. The barn was far enough from the main highway and fairly accessible by a dirt road. Unmowed grass surrounded the property, and since it was the middle of summer, it was tall and lush and provided the perfect screen from prying eyes. He rented the property under false identification—Dan Brown—provided by Opperman. Justin smirked at the unimaginative name his contact had provided him. Although the more common the name, the easier it was to work covertly.

An advantage of the property was its proximity to Washington DC. He planned on making frequent trips to visit the beautiful scientist, who had somehow managed to get under his skin in such a short time. He should know better than to get personal with his mark, but there was some vulnerability in those gray eyes that spoke to him and he was just biding his time to make his move.

The authorities should have a sketch of his face by now. What they were looking for was a college-age guy not a 32-year old man. He was quite adept at leveraging cosmetic prosthetics to disguise his age. It was one of his specialties to blend in the background.

A truck was making its way down the dirt road. A delivery from Christopher Blackstone—from his middleman at least. Blackstone knew he was being watched by every local and international agency, so he had funneled some funds to a dummy company that manufactured farm equipment and he, as Dan Brown, was the owner. Justin unlocked the barn gates and the truck drove straight through. Another car followed the truck inside. The occupants were Ukranian nuclear physicist, Yuri Demko, and two South African lab technicians—all hand-picked by Blackstone.

The occupants of the truck got out and opened the lift, revealing crates of all sizes. Yuri stepped out of the car and approached Justin.

“Bishop.”

“Demko.”

Justin handed him a lockbox. “It’s all there. Files and disks. That research does not leave this facility.”

Demko nodded. “Understood.”

“How long will it take?”

“About two weeks. It would take less time if we had the cores.”

“I’m working on that.”

Justin looked at the lab technicians and then at Yuri. “Are you certain you can accomplish this? Do I need to make provisions to bring in Dr. Leroux?”

Nostrils flaring, Yuri said stiffly, “I am certain. There are basic designs and improvisations I could do. Blackstone was adamant he does not want Dr. Leroux harmed in anyway.”

Justin smiled grimly. “He shouldn’t have mentioned Dr. Leroux’s name to my boss in the first place.”

Justin was a freelance “facilitator” and worked frequently with Eric Opperman. Justin performed the dirty work while Opperman managed the backend manipulation. Their job, simply put, was to get things done and get rid of obstacles along the way. Whoever paid them was the boss, and currently it was Damian Stoltz. The research belonged to Stoltz, not Blackstone, and he was making sure he had his two henchmen stand guard at all times. He had requested more military contractors from Stoltz. Once the zefinium bombs were built, they needed to be moved quickly to avoid getting on radar and whoever stood in their way would be eliminated expeditiously.

12

“Endpoint Systems is here,”Polly Smith informed Sophie, who was busy cataloguing some isotope enrichment results from this morning. Her meeting with MDI yesterday went very well and she was thankful to have her work to keep her mind occupied and away from the stolen research. There was nothing she could do at this point; however she knew the CIA and AGS were working to track down Justin and his crew. She had a feeling Derek was involved too. He had been acting differently since Sunday, not withdrawn or cold like he was after the first time they had sex, but he was definitely distracted.

“Good, send them to the lab,” Sophie replied. She was doing damage control as much as she could; she was getting rid of the weaponized zefinium cores. Christopher Blackstone had not been too happy about the core disposal when they spoke on Sunday, but he agreed it was the best option given the disappearance of the research.

Two men dressed in work jumpsuits entered the lab, rolling a huge lead crate with them.

“It’s not plutonium, you know,” Sophie said with amusement.

“Standard transport, ma’am,” one of the men replied courteously.

Sophie shrugged and walked over to where the cores were sitting in the high-tech safe box. Unlocking it and lifting the lid, she lightly touched the objects with her fingers as she felt the back of her eyes sting. It was as if she was saying good-bye to her father all over again. Smiling ruefully, she nodded to the men.

They walked over to where she was and used a Geiger counter to measure the radiation levels. As predicted, the levels were too low to cause any harm. They transferred the cores carefully to the depths of their container and handed Sophie a clipboard with the chain-of-custody paperwork.

Sophie signed three sheets of documents, handed the clipboard back and watched the sum of her father’s life work leave her lab.

Stephen must have noticed her turmoil and came up beside her. “You OK, sweetie?”

She heaved and let out a puff of air. “Yes, actually. It’s bittersweet. But there’s a big relief too you know, as if I’ve been set free.”

“You’ve been hanging on too long,” Stephen replied.

She knew what Stephen meant: the memory of the summers with Jean Pierre Leroux. Ever since her parents’ divorce, the only time she spent with her dad was in the summer. Because of his work, he had stayed behind in France after the break-up. He would bring her to his lab and even in her pre-adolescent mind, she was fascinated by the science that consumed her father’s world. He would attempt to teach her about the atom and how the beginning and end of all things revolved around this one tiny particle—she was his eager student. Those were happy times, before the explosion took his life and left her lost and angry. Then Adam came along, showing her a different world, a sensual world. He was taken away from her too. Swearing to avoid such devastation, she spent years building up her wall, and now when she thought she had fortified her defenses enough, an infuriating man took a sledgehammer and brought them down.

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