The guard led him to a bank of three elevators. “These three shafts run to our sub-basement levels.” The guard swiped his passkey and entered his security code. The middle door opened and they stepped inside.
There was no control panel; no buttons to push. The guard looked up at a camera lens. “SB-5.”
Before Adam could grab hold of the interior rail, the floor beneath his feet plummeted and stopped, the entire descent taking less than two breathless seconds.
The guard smiled as the door hissed opened. “Pretty cool, huh? For a moment you were actually suspended in mid-air. It’s like a rush of butterflies in your gut.”
“Felt more like I swallowed my gut.”
Adam followed him off the elevator and down another corridor, this one interspaced with metal doors. They stopped at a sealed room labeled LAB SB-5.
The guard swiped his card, causing the door to unlock. “Dr. Manley is expecting you. I’ll wait for you out here.”
“Thank you.” Adam entered, the door requiring extra effort to push in against a cushion of air. The moment the door clicked shut a green light flashed on above an identical door six feet away. Pushing the handle down, he again fought a cushion of air and entered.
“Wow.”
It was as if he had been transported to a tropical island — twenty feet of pink sand and a cluster of coconut palm trees were all that separated the lab’s covered, open patio from an azure sea. Small waves lapped gently along the shoreline with a soothing crash and sizzle; cool gusts of briny air ruffled his hair. So realistic was the effect that for a confusing moment Adam was actually convinced he was in the Caribbean.
“It’s the latest in holographic design.”
He turned to find a white male in his early sixties, dressed in a floral Tommy Bahama shirt, shorts, and sandals. His chestnut-brown hair was long and graying around the temples, his tan complexion contrasting nicely with his gray goatee.
Adam extended his hand. “Shariak. I’m the new DoD Comptroller.”
“I suppose that makes you the most powerful man in Washington — after the Vice President and dog catcher.”
“Are you Dr. Neale Manley?”
“Who else would I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re his cabana boy.”
The older man walked to the porch’s bamboo rail. As he touched it, that section of the holographic projection materialized into a door. Opening it revealed a bathroom.
The physicist removed a white lab coat from a hook and slipped it on. “Do I pass inspection, Mr. Under Secretary?”
“Actually, this is more of a social call. About five years ago you worked on a project with Dr. Jessica Marulli. She asked me to say hello.”
“Ah, Juice Marulli… what a sweetheart. How do you know her?”
“We’re engaged.”
“Then that makes you a lucky man, though still no more important than dog-catcher.”
“I’m in town over the next three days; thought maybe I could treat you to dinner.”
“Is Jessica with you?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point?” Dr. Manley removed a tube of antibiotic gel from his coat pocket, squeezed a drop of the clear liquid onto his palm, and rubbed his hands together. “Nothing personal, Mr. Deputy, but it’s not like we can talk shop, and I have no time for meaningless acquaintances.”
Adam withdrew a business card from his pants pocket and handed it to the physicist. “In case you change your mind.”
Dr. Manley waved it off. “If I need you I know where to find you. Your fiancée’s a good egg. Tell her I said hello.”
The scientist surprised Adam by extending his hand.
He dutifully shook it, the physicist’s palm still slightly moist with gel.
Ten minutes later, Adam climbed back into his jeep. Well, that was a waste of time.
As he started the car he noticed his right palm was tingling. He rubbed it against his pant leg, only it grew worse, becoming sharp pins and needles.
Adam stared at the flesh, which had turned bright pink where he had shaken hands with Manley.
The gel? What was in it? Did he poison me?
As he watched, a message appeared in his normal skin tone, the scrawled words standing out against his flushed, irritated flesh:
8:15 p.m. Miyagi’s Sushi Bar. McLean, VA.
7
Following his iPhone’s directions, Adam turned on Chain Bridge Road and then made a left onto Curran Street. He saw the restaurant and parked; the lot half empty.
Miyagi’s was a small private establishment, the tables packed close together on a bamboo wood floor, its two sushi chefs working in tandem behind the glass-enclosed bar.
Adam stood at the counter behind a party of four waiting for a table and a man paying for takeout. He searched the dining area, only Dr. Manley wasn’t there.
An Asian girl in her mid-teens gave him a warm smile. “For here or to go?”
“Table for two. I’m meeting a friend, only he’s not here yet.”
She glanced at one of the chefs, who signaled her very subtlety with two fingers. “Okay. We seat you first.”
Overhearing their conversation, one of the women in the party of four protested. “Excuse me, but we were next.”
“Hai. You are next party of four.” Grabbing two menus, she motioned for Adam to follow her. She led him around a maze of tables and past the sushi bar, then beyond a red and white checkered curtain separating the kitchen and restrooms from the dining area. Turning left, they followed a small corridor past cases of bottled water, empty syrup canisters, and kegs of beer to a door labeled PRIVATE.
She knocked twice, paused and knocked twice again.
A dead bolt slid back and the door opened, revealing a Japanese man in his fifties, dressed in a white collared shirt, red bow tie, and black slacks. He nodded to Adam and then stepped back, allowing him to enter the small office.
Neale Manley was seated behind a desk, feasting on sushi rolls stacked on a decorative miniature wood boat. He waved Adam inside.
“This is Komura, the owner of this fine establishment.”
The Asian bowed his head. “Mr. Ambassador, it is an honor.”
Squeezing past Adam, he closed the door behind him.
“Mr. Ambassador?”
“I told him you were the Deputy Ambassador to Japan. Bolt the door and sit down, we don’t have much time.”
Adam slid the dead bolt in place and sat in the folding chair across the desk from Dr. Manley, who was unscrewing a pen, refitting the ink cartridge backwards inside the barrel shell — the connection causing a faint high-decibel sound.
“White noise. In case anyone’s listening.”
“Is that why you were so short with me this morning?”
“SAIC’s ceilings have eyes; its walls have ears. Now pay attention, we only have about twenty minutes before your to-go order is ready and you’re out of here.”
“My to-go order?”
“I can’t be seen with you, Shariak. I agreed to brief you and point you in the right direction, but after tonight we don’t cross paths again. Is that understood?”
Adam grabbed two spider rolls off the back of the serving boat, shoving them in his mouth. “I’m listening.”
Dr. Manley pulled the food out of Adam’s reach. “What I’m about to tell you represents the tiniest acorn in the forest of the biggest kept secret in the history of the planet. If the world’s population knew how they’ve been lied to… how they’ve been purposely denied the good life that can be provided by free, clean energy systems because of a few selfish, greedy sociopaths, there’d be anarchy. There needs to be a revolt, the public needs to demand these technologies be made available. Not to bring them out is nothing short of a crime against humanity.