This was not the CATHIE experiment. As collider experiments go, CATHIE was a small one, but it would still have involved dozens of collaborating scientists and months of installation of a set of barrel-shaped detectors around a section of the ring. In fact, none of the instruments here was connected to the accelerator at all that I could see, except that Brian had tapped into the ring’s power lines. He had been using this underground bunker, not for its proximity to the accelerator, but because of its secrecy. What he was studying was something else entirely.
It wasn’t until I walked around one of the card tables that I saw him. He was lying on the concrete floor in a dark puddle, one leg crumpled under him at an odd angle, his chest a bloody ruin. It was Brian Vanderhall.
CHAPTER 8
Judge Roswell called a short recess, after which Haviland continued his questioning of Officer Brittany Lin. Lin gazed straight at him with a confident expression as she answered, only occasionally looking to the jury when clarifying a word or technical term. She was a well-rehearsed and experienced witness.
“In the course of your investigation of the underground bunker, did you check for fingerprints?” Haviland asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“Can you share with us your findings?”
“Yes. Aside from those fingerprints that matched the victim, there were fingerprints found on a pair of microscopes and on a length of steel pipe. One of the microscopes had been badly damaged, possibly by being struck with the pipe.”
“And were these fingerprints matched to a person?”
“Yes. They were Jacob Kelley’s.”
“Could the fingerprints have been left from some previous visit that Mr. Kelley made to the bunker, sometime before the murder?”
“Yes, theoretically they could have, but given their clarity, it is unlikely they were there for many days. Also, the fingerprint evidence is consistent with other indicators we have that Kelley was at the scene at the time the murder took place.”
“What evidence is that?”
“A pair of size twelve New Balance athletic shoes left footprints in the victim’s blood. Bloody tracks from those shoes were found in a clear path leaving the bunker, then traveling up the stairs of a maintenance exit leading to the forest.”
“And were these shoes identified?” Haviland asked.
“Yes. Jacob Kelley was still wearing them several hours later, when he was apprehended by police.”
Haviland shuffled his notes to let this revelation sink in before continuing. “One more question, Officer. Did you examine the door that led to this secret underground bunker?”
“Yes, sir,” Lin said.
“Can you tell us your findings?”
“The door had been fitted with a fingerprint recognition lock.”
“Could you explain to the jury what a fingerprint recognition lock is meant to do?”
Lin faced the jury and shrugged in a way that communicated that of course they all knew what it was already. “It’s meant to permit entry only to certain, designated people, based on their fingerprints.”
“Just entry? Does that mean anyone could lock it?”
“No, I’m sorry. The lock is an electromagnetic bolt that can only be activated or deactivated by the designated person. To be locked, the door must be closed, and the lock can only be engaged by a person whose fingerprints are recognized.”
“It can’t be locked by an approved person when the door is opened, and then closed by someone else?”
“No. The mechanism can only be activated when the door is closed.”
“So the person who locked and closed the door must have been one of the people whose fingerprints were programmed into the locking mechanism.”
“Correct.”
“Had the lock been reprogrammed since Mr. Vanderhall’s death?”
“No. The internal computer logs clearly showed the lock programming had not been changed in years.”
“How many people was this lock programmed to allow to enter the room or lock it?”
“Two.”
“Who was the first?”
“The deceased, Mr. Brian Vanderhall.”
“And the second?”
She nodded toward me. “The accused, Mr. Jacob Kelley.”
CHAPTER 9
He was dead. Brian was dead. I felt for a pulse, though there could hardly be any doubt. His skin was cold. There was a lot of blood on the floor. I realized it was on my shoes and backed hastily away.
A Glock 46 lay tossed on the floor in a corner. I was pretty sure it was Brian’s gun, the same one he had fired at Elena.
Marek had his phone out, but he shook his head. “No reception.” There were call stations every mile along the tunnel, so we would have to drive to one of those to call the police.
My hands were shaking. I was trying to look anywhere but at the body. A pair of microscopes on a central table drew my attention. It occurred to me that whatever Brian had been studying was probably what got him killed. I peered into one of them. I couldn’t see anything.
“Shouldn’t we go?” Marek asked.
“We can’t help him now,” I said. “And there’s something here he wanted me to see. I just want to take a look, before the police come and trample everything.”
I searched for an electrical box, found it under the table among the snaking cables, and switched it on. Equipment hummed as it came to life and cooling fans spun up. I fitted my eye back into the microscope’s eyepiece and adjusted the focus. A digital readout told me the magnification and scale. The object in the scope was a tiny piezoelectric resonator, barely more than a micrometer in length, but gigantic compared to the size of an electron or any other particle in the quantum world. It took me a little tinkering to figure out the setup, but once I did I was able to send a tiny pulse of energy and set the resonator oscillating.
It was what we’d been working toward for years—a relatively “large” object displaying quantum effects. Considering that the resonator was not cryogenically cooled, this was a remarkable scientific feat all on its own. But there was another microscope. I switched eyepieces, already knowing what I would find. A second resonator, vibrating much like the first… except that it was not connected to the electrical source. I checked the computer readout and saw that the frequency and direction of the oscillation was the same as the first one. The two microscopes were right next to each other, but as far as the quantum world was concerned, it might as well be on the other side of the world.
“Um… Jacob?” Marek said.
My eye was still pasted to the microscope. “This is incredible. He’s actually demonstrated entanglement on a macro scale.” It was more than incredible. My mind was soaring with visions of ansibles and faster-than-light communication. It was the biggest discovery of the century. Why had it not been accomplished in the open, with journal publication and world fame? Why was Brian hiding underground in the bunker of an abandoned collider experiment?
“Jacob? Are you seeing this?” Marek asked.
I pulled away, a little annoyed to be interrupted, but my annoyance disappeared as soon as I saw what Marek was talking about. All around the makeshift lab, objects were now spinning. Soda cans rotated rapidly where they stood; ballpoint pens spun on their ends or on their sides; a coin twirled on a tabletop as if flicked. The swivel chair behind me whirled crazily. Marek was standing against the wall, his eyes wide. “What’s happening?” he asked.