David Golemon - Ripper

As their team took a deep breath, the air force sergeant eased his hand off of the control yoke and flexed his fingers.

“Now, this is the tricky part,” the sergeant said as he looked over toward Virginia Pollock who stood slightly away from the CDC team as she watched the procedure. “I will hold the container in place with robot assist arm number two, but the Europa-operated arm, number one, will slice into the beeswax seal holding the rubber cork in place. Only the correct pressure of blade against wax can sever it without damaging the cork — something only Europa can gauge correctly. It’s far beyond the scope of human touch to consider trying.”

“Yes, keep the genie in the bottle and us in control,” Gloria said as she watched the procedure.

As they watched, the arm controlled by the sergeant took a firm hold on the center of the glass jar as Europa manipulated the second arm into position. Attached to the three-fingered claw was what looked like a shortened scalpel. As the stainless-steel device eased into the wax, Europa started measuring the exact thickness of the old and dried beeswax by the use of a laser that measured the density of the wax before the blade struck it. As the scalpel sank into the hardened organic matter, the team watched as its thickness was measured by the distance it traveled through the wax. As the arm started to rotate and start its run around the rim of the jar, the team saw the numbers start to vary as it spun around the seal.

“Actually, I am surprised at the almost exact nature of the placement of the beeswax. It’s almost the same thickness all the way around the cork,” Colonel Bannister said as the cut around the wax was completed and Europa eased the wax seal free of the jar. Everyone took a breath as the wax came free without shaking the material inside.

The sergeant then started operating a third robotic arm. He brought it down and used it as an assist to the first. It grabbed hold of the jar at center mass to stabilize the container as Europa, this time minus the scalpel, moved across the top of the now brownish-looking, cracked, and old rubber stopper. As the team examined the rubber cork on the large monitor, they saw in intricate detail that the rubber was brown with age and cracked throughout, creating another possible escape route for the highly unstable serum.

“Even with the wax seal, that rubber would not have lasted another ten years. If this formula is as powerful as the witness testimony described, there could have been a disaster in Mexico as these seals failed one by one and the serum found its way into the groundwater or, worse, the Rio Grande,” Professor Franks, the eldest of the CDC people, said as he examined the close-up view of the container.

The air force tech brought his microphone closer to his mouth. “Europa, you may insert the tube at this time.”

Without answering the command, Europa started to slide the articulated arm closer to the top of the cork. Attached to the claw this time was a ten-inch-long tube, only 2.8 centimeters in diameter. This was something the CDC people had worked with many times. The small stainless-steel tube was worth just short of a million dollars and was a piece of engineering genius. It was actually a large syringe and had opening and closing valves at each end of the tube. Once inserted, the computer would have definite control of any flow of fluid from the container, but what was more important, it could also be used to pump high-octane fuel into the container for destruction purposes if the seal failed at any time. Again the Event Group under the Nevada desert had equipment that the CDC only heard about a few years ago.

Colonel Bannister looked over at Virginia Pollock. “Doctor, just how in the hell does Niles come up with equipment others of us can only dream about?”

Virginia smiled and shook her head only slightly. She nodded toward the glass wall as Europa inserted the tube and then removed the arm. “Dr. Compton is hard to argue with when he states that this department needs something, and most people are smart enough to know that if Niles wants it, the country needs it. He’s never, ever frivolous with the taxpayer dollar.”

“Okay ladies and gentlemen. You are now in control of the sample. We can now safely insert your probes without exposing the substance to the air.”

Colonel Bannister just shook his head as Virginia kept her smile on her face.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” Bannister said as the air force tech stood and moved away.

The secret of Perdition’s Fire was about to be revealed.

Pete Golding sat in the chair inside of the clean room as the robotic arms behind the glass enclosure started placing program after program into the giant Cray computer system. Thus far Pete and Europa had examined almost every report ever filed by the United States Army concerning the punitive raids into Mexico from 1899 to 1917. They had not come across the name Lawrence Ambrose in any of those reports. They had only the documents they had uncovered concerning the ownership of Perdition Hacienda in 1917, and that in and of itself gave them nothing but the fact that Ambrose had really existed. The technicians involved in digging through the old Event Group material recovered after the Patton raid still had not come across any journals or chemical traces of the compound. He looked closer at a picture sent up from the vault area of several small brown bottles that still contained liquid of some unknown variety. Because of the clear color it was suspected that this substance could not be Perdition’s Fire. It was sent up to the infectious disease area nonetheless for safekeeping.

Pete shook his head just as Niles Compton walked into the room. He received an immediate dirty look from Pete. Then he remembered to place the cover over his head in case any hair fell from his balding scalp. Compton gave Pete a return dirty look.

“How come you didn’t freak out when Jack refused to wear the clean-room garb?”

Pete returned his eyes to Europa as she worked behind the glass. “Because Mr. Director, I was terrified of the colonel because he could kill me with that same dirty look,” he turned and faced Niles as he sat in the chair next to Pete’s, “whereas I am not afraid of you doing the same.”

“Point taken.” Niles turned and watched Europa as she placed the last of the new programs into her hard drive, which was the size of the entire rear wall of the clean room. “Nothing so far?”

“We came across a Lawrence Ambrose mentioned in a Ministry of Defense document generated in London in 1883 that mentioned a Professor Ambrose. But upon review we decided it couldn’t have been the same man. The document was never a classified one and stated that this Ambrose was a citizen of India, thus the British Empire. It made no mention of him being an American citizen. And of course he couldn’t have held both citizenship in the United Kingdom and the United States at the same time, it’s against American law. It says he was paid an initial sum of ten thousand pounds sterling for the purchase of a shipping facility in the south of London. We checked, and it was an actual company called the LJA Import Company, and their main shipping revenue was generated by importing tea.”

Niles nodded his head, knowing the name Ambrose was not a unique name in the slightest.

“So we moved back to this side of the Atlantic. Now Europa has started poring through diaries kept by United States military personnel during the time in question, particularly any documentation written by either George S. Patton or John J. Pershing. And I can tell by the fast movements of Europa’s arms placing and removing programs that she hasn’t hit on the name Ambrose yet. This is particularly frustrating. It’s like searching for a needle that should be big enough to find in a field of haystacks. I mean, the man must have been a brilliant scientist in order to have conducted a genetics research project seventy years before the science was even invented.”