Tom Grace: Quantum

‘So, very few people know about Sandstrom’s work?’

‘I would say no more than thirty, but only Sandstrom and his associate Paramo actually know how to construct one of these quantum energy devices.’

‘What value would you place on Sandstrom’s work? What is it worth?’

‘This isn’t an oil field or a diamond mine, Victor. What we’re looking at is an entirely new industry in the moments just before its birth, an industry with a multibillion-dollar potential. These consortia are planning to serve as midwife and guardian of this nascent technology, but as the Americans are so fond of saying: Possession is nine-tenths of the law. If a scientist working for one of your companies announced this discovery first, then you would own this technology. I believe there is an opportunity here, if you act quickly.’

Orlov sat silent for several minutes, digesting everything Zoshchenko had said and extrapolating possible scenarios.

‘This could work,’ Orlov said objectively, ‘but I’ll need a good physicist, someone capable of understanding this quantum technology. I have a building on the outskirts of Moscow that should suit our needs for this endeavor.’

Reaching over the arm of the couch, Orlov pressed the intercom button on the phone that sat on the end table.

‘Irena, I need you to cancel the rest of my appointments for the week.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Cherny replied.

‘I also need you to contact Dmitri Leskov. Tell him to come here immediately. Have my cook prepare dinner for three and have it brought to my office; I’ll be working late tonight.’

South Bend, Indiana

‘What the fuck?’ the driver of the semi growled when he noticed the flashing blue lights in the mirror cluster on his door.

‘Problem, Jimbo?’ the skinny young man seated next to him asked.

‘Yeah, a cop.’

‘Shit, were ya speeding?’ the third man on the bench seat asked.

‘I don’t think so. Potholes are so bad ’round here, I’d jar my teeth loose if I went more than five over the limit. Must be down on his ticket quota and I’m the only thing on the road right now.’

The driver carefully took the semi off to the side of the two-lane county road, put the rig in neutral, and switched on the hazard lights. A white, unmarked Chevy Blazer pulled up behind the truck. A moment later a uniformed Indiana state trooper stepped out from behind the wheel. In the mirror, the driver watched as the trooper slowly approached.

‘Looks like a real hard-ass, Jimbo,’ the skinny man said, craning his neck to get a view in the mirror.

‘Yeah, a real tough guy,’ the driver replied anxiously, his heart racing.

‘His partner’s coming up on my side,’ the third man announced. ‘Looks just like the other one. I guess they’re cloning cops now.’

‘License and registration, please,’ the trooper said in a tone of bored superiority as he reached the driver’s door.

‘What’s the problem, Officer?’ the driver asked as he handed over the requested paperwork.

‘Just a routine check. Would the three of you mind stepping out of the cab?’

The troopers stood back from the doors, carefully keeping one hand on their holstered pistols. As the driver shut the engine off and slid out from behind the wheel, the two other men stepped down on the passenger side.

‘Let’s go around to the other side,’ the trooper said, indicating that the driver should lead the way.

‘Open up the trailer, please,’ the trooper demanded as they reached where the second officer stood with the other men.

‘Sure,’ the driver replied as he unlocked the trailer’s side door. ‘There’s nothing inside ’cept our dollies and some padding. We were just on our way to a pickup.’

The driver swung the door wide open.

‘See, just like I told ya.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ the trooper said sternly. ‘Step inside, please. All of you.’

The three men complied and stepped up into the trailer. They began to sweat, as much from nervousness as the rising temperature inside.

The three men watched as the two troopers climbed up into the trailer.

‘Take a look around,’ the senior officer said to his partner.

The younger man moved to the front of the trailer and began searching through the pile of padded blankets.

‘What’re you lookin’ for?’ the driver asked.

‘Drugs,’ the trooper answered. ‘We got a tip that a local dealer is using moving trucks to bring his drugs in. Where’s your pickup?’

‘Notre Dame. We’re moving some guy’s lab to a research park off campus.’

‘How’s it look?’ the trooper asked his partner.

‘Clean.’

The trooper nodded.

‘Is that it?’ the driver asked expectantly.

‘Just one more thing.’

In a blur of motion, the trooper drew his weapon.

‘Jesus, no!’ shouted the driver.

The trooper placed two 9-mm rounds from his suppressed Glock into the skinny man’s forehead; the back of the man’s skull exploded onto the metal wall of the trailer in a Rorschach of blood, bone, and gray matter. He then adjusted his aim to the right, sweeping to his next target, and fired another double tap between the driver’s eyebrows. The younger trooper shot the third mover with equal efficiency.

Both men closed the distance between themselves and the movers. The three young men lay absolutely still as the last seconds of their lives ticked away.

‘Clear,’ Dmitri Leskov announced. ‘Pavel, go get the others.’

‘ Da,’ Pavel acknowledged as he jumped down from the trailer.

Pavel was halfway to the unmarked Blazer – blue strobes still flashing – when three men, all dressed in the same tan uniforms that the movers wore, emerged from the rear of the vehicle. The men quickly moved to the back of the Blazer and unloaded a nested set of three orange plastic barrels, three battery-operated caution flashers, a bundle of large gray mats, and a ten-foot-long sausage shaped object emblazoned with the PLG corporate logo at regular intervals along its gray fabric exterior. Pavel grabbed the sausage, retrieved a large canvas gym bag from the Blazer, and then followed the others back to the trailer.

‘Hand me the bag,’ Dmitri called out from the open door. ‘Then feed the Pig to Vanya.’

Pavel tossed the gym bag up to his older brother, then lifted up the end of the sausage. The coarse fabric of the Pig chaffed against his neck and shoulders as Vanya pulled it into the trailer.

‘Quickly, Yuri,’ Vanya said as he pulled the full length of the Pig into the trailer, ‘contain the blood before it covers the whole floor.’

Yuri nodded and laid the Pig on the floor to act as a dam around the perimeter of the slowly expanding pool of blood. Vanya then ripped open the package of mats and spread a blanket of thin gray quilted rectangles atop the red-black liquid. Like the Pig, the mats immediately began absorbing the blood.

The fifth man, Josef, had the three orange barrels set with their open bottoms facing up.

‘Keys?’ Dmitri asked.

‘I have them,’ Josef replied, patting the key ring in his pocket.

Dmitri and Pavel picked up the skinny mover’s body by the arms and legs and carried it over to the first container.

‘Steady the barrel, Josef,’ Dmitri barked as he and Pavel lifted the body over the open end.

Carefully, they lifted the mover’s arms and legs, folding his body at the waist as they lowered it into the barrel. When the body reached the bottom, they folded his arms and legs until the man disappeared into the drum.

They repeated this maneuver twice more as Yuri and Vanya wiped down the trailer walls and floor with the absorbent mats. Drawn by the blood, flies began to swarm annoyingly around them.