For more than a year he wanted to find out what was in there.
Secretum, he thought. Now, he was going to learn it all.
PART TWO
Twenty-five
McCauley counted on life’s standard frames of references. The sun rises and sets. Sixty seconds to a minute. Sixty minutes to an hour. Twenty-four hours in a day. The earth beneath stays where it’s supposed to, except during earthquakes. And baseball has nine innings.
But there was no frame of reference for the teacher and students who returned to the cave, especially as their eyes widened to the perplexing sight now lit by their newly purchased propane lamps.
“What is this?” Alpert asked.
“Dr. Quinn?” Leslie Cohen needed reassurance.
“I….” Rich Tamburro couldn’t get past the pronoun.
Tom Trent was speechless.
It was as if everyone was waiting for Quinn McCauley to explain things.
“What the hell?” Katrina Alpert mouthed, but hardly articulated.
“Everyone take a deep breath. Lanterns in front. Slowly now.” McCauley remained calm and authoritative.
Ten steps forward he said, “Okay, stop.” He raised his light and examined the wall ahead of them, first closely…only inches away, then from two feet, and ten feet back. It was as if it wasn’t there, concealed by the blackest black he’d ever seen.
“Jesus,” Tamburro proclaimed. “I can’t see it.”
“It’s absorbing all the light,” McCauley said.
Jaffe came forward and touched the surface. “Smooth. Metallic. No sign of corrosion. Gold, silver, iron, galvanized steel would all show corrosion. This doesn’t feel like there’s any.”
Next, Dr. Alpert touched the surface. She looked at her hands in the light and rubbed her thumb against her forefinger. “And no dust. This place is very well maintained. A lot cleaner than your motel room,” she directed to McCauley.
“What was that?” Jaffe asked with keen interest.
“Nothing,” McCauley quickly stated. “Can we stay focused on our observations?”
“Corporate?” Tamburro offered.
Jaffe disagreed. “Military.”
“Military?” Alpert repeated.
“That’s what I’m leaning toward, too,” McCauley said. “Left over from the Cold War.”
Katrina Alpert looked at her hand again. “With a full-time maid to dust?”
The natural thing to do was to take pictures. Leslie Cohen was the first to try.
“My cell’s not acting right. Can’t hold the charge. It’s going on and off.”
Rich Tamburro found the same on his. In fact, none of their phones fired up long enough to shoot any pictures.
“Something in here is neutralizing the circuits,” Jaffe concluded. “Anyone up on electrical anomalies?”
“Not me,” said Cohen. “I stop at about Brachiosaurous.”
“Beats me,” Lobel said.
“Anyone else?”
No takers.
“Okay time for another plan,” McCauley began.
“Is that Plan B or C, now?” Alpert asked.
“Okay, who has some thoughts?” McCauley was opening up discussion around the evening campfire. “Like who the hell would build such a facility in the middle of nowhere?”
Tamburro started with the Twilight Zone theme.
“Gonna need more than that.”
“Okay, then it’s like Area 51,” he continued. “We uncovered a secret facility.”
“Yeah, like maybe one the government just forgot about,” Lobel proposed. “How else can you explain the electro-static thingy that also zaps dust away. Love that patent!”
“The government doesn’t just forget about places like this,” McCauley argued.
“Then ancient aliens,” Tom Trent interjected. “Wouldn’t that be something! A ragtag team of paleontologists discover proof of ancient aliens. Talk about irony.”
“Someone do a Google search on super light absorbent materials,” McCauley proposed. “Okay?”
“Super absorbent? Like Bounty?” Trent joked.
“Yes, but Bounty for light,” he replied.
They continued to speculate, with no basis on which to hang any real theory. Jaffe was the only one not throwing out ideas. He was on his computer.
During a lull in the discussion Tamburro saddled over to McCauley.
“Doc, I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“The other night when we were listening to the radio on the way back from town….”
“Yes.”
“The guy being interviewed….”
“The conspiracy nut?”
“That guy. I think he might have some insight.”
“In made-up shit.”
“Getting government documents released through the Freedom of Information Act more than anyone else. That’s for real. He’s been at it for years. You won’t have to tell him much, but I think you might gather some intel.”
“And my dear spy,” McCauley whispered and smiled to Alpert who sat out of earshot, “tells my chair I’m relying on crackpots as experts. Just great.”
Tamburro laughed. “You won’t be the first professor to be accused of that. Just talk to him.”
“He’s a quack.”
“He researches stuff. So do you. He goes on late night talk radio. So do you.”
McCauley threw his hands up in frustration. Dr. Alpert caught the gesture and joined the conversation.
Dr. Alpert caught this part of the exchange. “Do what?”
“Toss my career in the toilet. Doesn’t matter.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Tamburro said ignoring McCauley’s comment and Alpert’s question.
“I’ll think about. That’s as far as I’ll go now.”
“Just engage him a little. Nothing specific. Keep the lid on it.”
“Engage who?” Alpert asked.
McCauley waved her off just as Jaffe yelled, “Got it!” He turned back to the conversation and looked up from his computer.
“Doc was right. A British company invented a thing called Vantablack. Made from carbon nanotubes, whatever the fuck they are. It absorbs all but.035 percent of visual light. Set a new world record.”
“A new record for doing what?” Rodriguez showed more interest.
“I guess the amount of light it could absorb. Here, it says there are vast applications in photography and telescopes. Better ways to focus primary light sources and block out others. Vantablack is so dark the human eye can’t grasp what it’s seeing.” Jaffe paused. “Sound familiar?”
“Sure does,” Lobel said excitedly. “Did we stumble onto a beta test?”
“Or a practical application?” Tamburro added.
“I don’t think so,” McCauley offered. “They’ve got labs for stuff like that. Why would a British company be doing anything in a cave here in Montana?”
The team members looked at one another for an answer
“Not a company,” Leslie Cohen quietly offered. “Like you were saying before, it’s government. I’ve read about places like this. CDC or nuclear waste facilities. They lock the door and throw away the keys. We shouldn’t be messing with it.”
“Thank you. Back to my point,” Tamburro interrupted.
McCauley turned to the student. “I said…”
“Right,” Tamburro backed down.
“Look, it’s clearly out of our area,” Trent interjected. “I’m with Leslie. We shouldn’t be messing with it.”
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Alpert’s comment came as a surprise, particularly to McCauley. “Maybe one more trip?”