“Is there any precedence for this?” Colonel Metter asked.
“You’ve all probably seen or heard of psychics who can bend a spoon with only the power of their mind? Well, some of those are frauds who employ trickery, but some of them are quite real. This is a very base-level effort, given that the psychic is in the same room as the spoon and can physically see it. We’re going much further than that.”
“But this is theoretical, correct?” Colonel Metter pressed.
Dalton caught the glance Hammond exchanged with Raisor. “We’ve conducted some limited trials,” she said.
“And?” Metter prompted.
“And the trials were indeed successful.”
From long experience in the covert world, Dalton knew she was both lying and telling the truth.
“Amplify your answer,” Colonel Metter prompted.
“We sent an individual into the psychometric plane. That individual was able to, at a remote point, come out of the psychometric virtual plane as an avatar and influence the real, physical plane.”
“Doing what?” Metter asked.
“A simple task. Rearranging some blocks in a room on the other side of the country from where he— his physical body— was located.”
“Like a child in kindergarten,” Metter noted.
A flush swept Hammond’s face. “Yes, like in kindergarten, Colonel. We had to start somewhere and we started with the very basics.”
“What went wrong?” Dalton asked.
“Excuse me?” Hammond again looked at Raisor. The CIA agent gave a very slight shake of his head.
“I asked, what went wrong?”
“You have to understand”— Hammond was picking her words carefully— “that the psychometric plane is very much unlike our reality. In some ways it is much more complex; in some ways it is much simpler. The biggest thing to know, though, is that we hardly understand it at all.
“One thing we do know is that distance can be very confusing on the psychometric plane. Just because you are here, that doesn’t preclude you from being right next to something occurring on the other side of the world in the virtual plane. Something which we are only beginning to understand is that this space, the line”— she pointed at the empty spot in the center of the slide— “between the psychometric and the real plane, is very unique. We don’t know exactly what separates the two, even though we can travel through it. But in going through, there is some cause and effect, it appears.” Hammond paused, as if considering how to continue.
“Sometimes our RVers can travel great distances in an instant by jumping’ from one known point to another. At other times, though, especially if the end point desired is not clearly defined to the RVer, the trip may take time. Sometimes, the trip cannot even be completed.” Hammond shrugged. “It is quite complex and requires an understanding of very complex math to even begin to understand.”
“Who else is over there?” Dalton suddenly asked.
Hammond was startled, as was everyone else in the room. “No one is over there.”
“But your man ran into someone or something, didn’t he?” Dalton pressed.
Raisor shook his head as he spoke up. “No, he didn’t run into anyone. Something happened and his mission ended before we would have liked it to. But by moving those blocks you make so little of he did prove that it is possible to come out of the virtual world and into the real at a remote distance.”
“Where is this guy?” Dalton asked.
“That’s classified information,” Raisor said.
“This is a classified briefing,” Colonel Metter noted.
“That first trial with Psychic Warrior,” Raisor said, “occurred a month ago. Since that time we have been refining the procedure.” He gestured toward his partner. “Dr. Hammond has— ”
“What happened to your man a month ago?” Colonel Metter’s voice was flat, but it caused Raisor to pause.
“We had a problem with our equipment,” Dr. Hammond said. “The problem occurred in the real world on our end. A mistake was made, a mistake which I take responsibility for and which will not occur again because I have corrected the problem.”
There was silence as everyone in the room stared at her, waiting.
“Our man died. He drowned in the embryonic solution you saw on the slide.”
Chapter Four
“No one knows, but more importantly, no one really cares,” the man in the long black leather coat said irritably. “You soldiers are fools caught in the past. Don’t you realize the State has changed?”
The other man wore an olive drab greatcoat, the three stars on the shoulder boards indicating he was a colonel in the army, the small insignia on his collar the symbol of the once dreaded GRU, the military’s KGB. The two men were meeting in a remote park on the edge of Kiev. The snow had been dusted off the concrete table they were seated at. A black Mercedes, smoke coiling out of the exhaust pipe, was idling on the nearby road, a hundred meters away. The car rode low, due to the armor plating built into it. The windows were tinted, hiding the interior.
Three men, also in long black leather coats with fur-lined collars, waited outside the car, their right hands suspiciously inside the front of their coats. The park had been chosen because it was very broad and open. Anyone approaching could be seen a mile away. It had originally been built for the power elite under Communism, those who summered in the villas along the river nearby. Given the fall of Communism and the bitter winter temperatures on this day, they had the park to themselves.
Colonel Seogky didn’t trust the man across from him, but he didn’t really trust anyone anymore, so that mattered little. His focus was on the metal briefcase the man had next to him on the bench.
The other man, Leonid Barsk, followed that gaze and knew the colonel would not be any trouble. “All is ready? You have the papers?”
Seogky rubbed his rough leather gloves together. “Yes. I’ve told you that.”
“The CD-ROM?”
“You did not give me much time,” the colonel said.
“Do you have it?”
“I have it,” Seogky said. “But it will cost you more.”
Barsk tapped a finger against his upper lip, showing off the expensive Italian-made gloves he wore, a further contrast between the wealth of the Russian Mafia and the poverty of the Russian Army. “We will not have any unforeseen problems, will we?”
“I have done what you wanted me to,” Seogky protested. “What happens beyond that is not my responsibility.”
Barsk waved a finger. “Ah, that is where you are wrong, my colonel.” He ran his hand over the metal case. “When I give you this and you give me what you say you have, you become responsible. Even for those things that happen that you know nothing about.”
Seogky twisted on the cold bench, anxious to be going. His vehicle was parked over two miles away. It would be a miserable walk through the snow and ice. Barsk had told him to park that far away, citing security reasons, but then why was Barsk’s car here? Seogky knew the reality of the situation was that Barsk had made him walk in and would make him walk back out as a sign of power. Seogky’s feeling of cold was replaced with a warm glow of anger in his gut, not so much at Barsk but at the breakdown of the system and the fools who had allowed it to collapse to the point where he was sitting in this park today negotiating with this reptile of a man.
Seogky stood. “I have done what you have asked. If you wish to ask more, it will cost you more.”
Barsk also stood. “No, that is where you are also wrong, Colonel. If I ask, you will do as I say. You are ours now.” He held out the briefcase.
Seogky hesitated, realizing the truth and import of what Barsk had just said, but he also knew that he had crossed too many lines already. He might as well be comfortably situated in his new position. Still he didn’t take the case.