Colt grew up in a family of stock car drivers with a heritage born from the days his hillbilly grandfather, Bolt Hamil, bootlegged moonshine through the hollers of Bear Creek, Kentucky. The local authorities used every conceivable trick to catch “Lightning Bolt,” a legendary bootlegger who never lost a load of shine. Colt possessed an unrivaled record in car chases, just like his grandfather, believing his dearly departed grandpappy bestowed mystical protection over him. He always felt his driving ability came naturally, inherited from Bolt. Had he not been inducted into the Army and subsequently discovered by Kilmer, he most likely would have been a brilliant stock car driver on the NASCAR circuit. Kilmer had only to lay out the plan and Colt would coordinate all the transport logistics. His record was flawless and unmatched.
Kilmer made the final call. “Colt, the mob meets at 22:00 t’night. It a ripper. Be there, mate.”
“10-4. Can’t wait, Boss. Who’s coming?” Colt asked, trying to anticipate who Kilmer had assembled.
“The usual blokes. Everone’s committed ‘cept Rafie, but I’m bettin’ he won’t miss the quid on this op. We’ll know t’night.”
“Okay, perfect, see you then.”
The task completed, Richard Kilmer looked at the Livermore complex and wondered if there was something he was missing. Nothing was apparent. He hoped to hell none of his men paid the ultimate price. Whenever he felt this unsettled, it usually presaged a fatal outcome, but the plan before him couldn’t avoid killing along the way. This operation was going to be a deadly massacre. In just a few hours, he would lay out the plan for his men, and let them decide if they wanted to accept the risk. Still, these were high-quality professional soldiers, and he loathed the possibility that even one of them might not return.
Goddamned Holloway, he thought. If it weren’t for the exorbitant sum they would receive for executing this deadly plan, he’d tell the rich bastard to go screw himself. However, he also knew it was well worth the risk to keep the man happy. It was unlikely he would ever again find someone of Holloway’s resources willing to compensate as richly as he was. And there was no mistaking Holloway’s brilliance. His plan was incomparable even among the greatest heists in history. This was once in a lifetime. Kilmer’s unrelenting concern was to somehow survive the bloody mess.
He looked at his watch, reflecting that in less than thirty-six hours they would need to commence the Livermore mission. He decided to go over the plan one more time.
THIRTEEN
Redwood Shores, California Oracle Headquarters
The deep blue thirty-two-node IBM RS/6000 supercomputer, capable of one billion calculations per second, was busily cranking out millions of calculations. Deep Blue was derived from the supercomputer class that originally defeated world chess champion Gary Karperov. It was the first known instance of a computer beating a master chess champion in tournament-style competition. The computer was presently verifying the possible changes to an object’s gravitational weight when a given amount of enriched uranium was cycled inside a magnetic field.
Dr. Aldin Mills was decompressing the data files from his office at Oracle Headquarters. He had received the files from his friend Dallas Weaver, who directed him to integrate the formulas with the antigravity machine he was constructing. The man who wanted this machine-Alastair Holloway, whom he knew only by name-had given him the same identical instructions as before: Under no circumstances was the data to be copied, and no one was to know about the machine he was building at the Bayshore Warehouse.
The compensation Aldin received for his particular expertise was beyond anything he could earn anywhere else. He was extremely thankful to Weaver for getting him the job. Good ol’ Dallas, he never forgot his friends.
Weaver had months earlier provided the engineering specifications to build the antigravity machine, his source at Quantum Dimensions secreting out the information as it became available. Initially, Aldin had no idea how the machine would operate, but as it began to take shape, he came to understand that it functioned much like an electrical generator resembling those found in hydroelectric or nuclear power plants. These facilities generated electricity in similar fashion: using turbines connected to huge coils of copper wire suspended within a magnet field. Whether the turbine rotated by water pressure or steam was irrelevant. The facts remained: Spinning a magnetized copper core produced a flow of electrons and alternating current.
Within the first few minutes of reviewing the data files, Aldin couldn’t believe his eyes. With these equations, it was obvious the inventor had discovered how to harness gravity, the last of the four fundamental laws of nature. By utilizing the formulas, the antigravity machine could make an object weightless or heavier depending on the desired outcome. The calculus he used was stunning in its simplicity. Like every seemingly revolutionary discovery, the concept was so obvious it begged the question why the secret had not been revealed before.
The machine worked just like an electric motor, but the difference was that a magnetized uranium core was rotated by an outside electrical source. This would produce an artificial flow of gravitrons- so named by the inventor-that could produce weightlessness. Even more astounding, gravity could also be increased depending on how the nuclear core was rotated: A clockwise rotation produced a diminishing gravitation field, while a counterclockwise rotation produced a magnified gravitational field. This presented infinite operational possibilities.
As Aldin authenticated the formulas, there emerged little doubt that the relationship among the amount of uranium, the strength of the magnetic field, and the amperage of the electrical input would control an object’s gravity. Regardless of the application, this was indeed a breakthrough of staggering proportions. Aldin was elated to be the first engineer to operate this wonder machine.
Another mind-boggling capability of this technology was that, unlike electricity, which required wires to contain the electrons and convey the flow of electricity, the gravitron generator required no such wiring. Rather, the beam of gravitrons could be aimed through a microwave antenna. This allowed the user tremendous flexibility; by focusing the dish at a specific target, its gravity could be magnified or reduced. The centuries-old dream of levitation seemed to have become a reality.
Aldin leaned back in his chair, completely enthralled by what he had just discovered. He was shaking with excitement and couldn’t really comprehend his good fortune. He had accomplished a great deal in producing the mobile antigravity device, and it was about to become operational.
Holloway had given him an unlimited budget, and handed over the exact design specifications to create a machine the likes of which had never before been seen. There had been real challenges-the most prevalent was containment of the uranium to avoid radioactive contamination. Another was a practical problem with the weight of the trailer. Because of the lead used to line the turbine, the trailer weight was more than most trucks could safely brake. All these challenges were within acceptable technological limits, however, and Aldin had overcome them all. The last remaining obstacle was to program the formulas into the main computer. With these in hand, he was ready to make history.
It didn’t matter to Mills that he wasn’t the researcher that discovered the antigravity technology. As a researcher himself, he believed the inventor should at some point be recognized for his revolutionary work. But he was mesmerized by the fantasy of being recognized for building the first antigravity machine, despite how it came into his possession. He didn’t once stop to question how Dallas Weaver obtained the discs containing this valuable data, nor did he even marginally consider the consequences of being in possession of it.