There was silence in the room. Amanda was flushed with emotion, thinking about what her father must have been up against. It was becoming clear that he knew about the event, and that his knowledge led him to leave Renaissance, a decision that had cost him his life.
Reid broke the silence. “How can we even be sure they’ll show up tonight? They must know that we raided their boat last night, and that we’re looking for them. Why would they even show up at the banquet?”
“I’ll tell you why they’ll show,” said Ross, leaning forward. “They have no idea that we know about the banquet. Brett, you want to fill Connor in on what you learned?”
“Yes, sir,” Brett replied. “I was able to get into CERN’s computers, and neither Mironov nor Marrese show up on the guest list. Apparently, they weren’t invited and are showing up unannounced, that or else they were invited but asked that their names not be put out there in the public square. In other words, their attendance is not common knowledge.
“But more importantly, I think it must be vital to whatever it is they’re doing. I mean, why attend an awards banquet right on the eve of this event that they’ve put together? We can’t rule out the possibility that the event and the banquet are one and the same.”
“Do we know how CERN plays into this?” Skinner asked.
“No, we don’t,” the Oracle said. “We only know what they do. Brett, this might be a good time to fill everyone in.”
“The physicists at CERN study subatomic particles using the Large Hadron Collider, or LHC, the largest collider in operation on the planet,” Brett stated. “The facility and the equipment are the pinnacle of this kind of research. So what does that have with Renaissance or advanced robotics? I haven’t a clue.”
“Aren’t they the ones who discovered that particle… the one everybody called ‘the God particle’?” Skinner asked.
“Yes,” Brett replied, turning toward the operative. “The technical name is Higgs boson, which is actually smallest piece of what is called the Higgs field. The Higgs field is actually the more important of the two. It is the field that gives subatomic particles their mass. It was theorized years ago as an attempt to explain why some particles have mass and others don’t.”
Carmen laughed. “Not sure I follow you, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“My old college professor used to explain it this way,” Brett said. “Think of the Higgs field as water and the Higgs boson as the H2O molecule that makes up water. Now think about how various living things travel through water. A thin, streamlined fish without much mass will be able to cut through the water quickly. There isn’t much resistance at all. On the other hand, an elephant with a great deal of mass can’t move through the water quickly. The difference is obvious.”
“Okay. But it still doesn’t help us understand why Mironov and Marrese would have an interest in an organization that studies such things,” Carmen replied.
“It’s a mystery, no doubt. Keep in mind that Higgs boson is only one of many things they study at CERN.”
“And that was my point earlier, Carmen,” Ross said. “I don’t have the foggiest notion of how to link the two together. We can’t even be one hundred percent certain that CERN is connected to their plans, although it seems likely, given the circumstances. They certainly aren’t going to that banquet for the hors d’oeuvres.”
Carmen frowned. “I just remembered something. CERN is used by nations all across the globe. Do we know what projects are going on at this time?”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” Brett said. “CERN is in the middle of a two-year shutdown right now. They’re making repairs to the collider. And if you wanted to do something at the facility, then what better time than during a shutdown?”
“Brett, can you hack back into the administrative section of CERN’s network?” the Oracle asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Because they’re going to have a couple of people added to their guest list.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I must tell you something, Nicolas,” Philippe Bachand said. He stopped walking and turned toward the young man with the curly blond hair. “When you came here, we knew of your love for Scripture, and could see the foundation it gave you. But what I’ve been most impressed with is your passion for prayer.”
“Thank you.” Nicolas made a slight bow, his mouth turning up into a smile. “It seems I’ve had quite a role model.”
St. Pierre’s Cathedral was about to close for the night, and Philippe was walking his young apprentice, Nicolas Arseneau, to the front door. Several tourists lingered at the back, taking last-minute pictures, and a custodian was already out picking up trash and wiping down the pews.
They began to walk again, the sound of each step echoing off of the stone arches. “Truth be told, prayer is not natural for anyone, Nicolas. The Lord develops it in us over time. And as we devote ourselves to prayer, and as we become more obedient to Him, the answers come.”
Philippe smiled at a German family filing out of the front entrance. He held the door open for the other tourists that were making their way toward the exit. “By the way, how is your mother?” Nicolas’s mother had been involved in a skiing accident and was at home nursing a broken ankle.
“Much better. Thank you, Pastor Philippe. Oh, speaking of prayers… she told me to thank you for yours. The doctors say her recovery has been much quicker than expected.”
“You see.” Philippe lifted an eyebrow, smiling.
The last of the tourists walked out, chatting about where to eat dinner. Philippe kept the door open with a foot and reached out to shake Nicolas’s hand. “Have a safe walk home, my son. I'll see you in the morning.”
Nicolas began to cross toward the steps and then turned around one last time to wave at his mentor. Philippe waved back, and then the young man disappeared into the darkness.
Philippe was so proud of the spiritual growth he was seeing in Nicolas. The young man had received wonderful Bible training at seminary, but he did not seem to be plagued with the dry faith that sometimes gripped graduates — that tendency to become so consumed by Scripture that they forgot it was the light that they were to take out into a dying world. Nicolas, on the other hand, truly recognized that the Bible was an owner’s manual for action.
Remembering it was time to close, Philippe began to pull the heavy door shut. As he did, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was bounding up the front steps. She was a young woman, perhaps in her twenties. Philippe held up a hand as she approached. “Mademoiselle—”
He never finished his sentence. Once the girl stepped into the light of the doorway, he recognized her immediately. He smiled broadly. “It’s you. I should have known. I sensed the Lord telling me someone would come.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Philippe said as he re-entered his private office and closed the door behind him. He placed a mug of coffee in front of Amanda and then sat down behind the desk with his own cup of cappuccino. Philippe’s workspace was lit with an assortment of white votive candles. The shadows of the flames danced around on the stone walls, adding life to the cold room.
Amanda took a sip of her coffee. “It's interesting that you knew someone would come.”
Philippe raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”
“Well, earlier today, in the middle of the afternoon, I was hit with this strange burden. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I had an overwhelming urge to come seek you out. I can’t explain it, except to say that I knew I had to come.”