Brad Thor - The Athena Project

“Right into solid rock?” asked Cooney.

Paxton created a split screen and put up another, similar photograph. “The technology is extremely temperamental. Based on the scientists and data that American operatives were able to recover from the Third Reich, the United States built its own Engeltor. The photograph I just put up was taken in 1945, at Camp Hero on Montauk Point, Long Island.”

Slazas stared in disbelief.

“As you can see,” offered Paxton, “we were able to re-create similar results.”

The lieutenant general shook his head. “You call those results ? That’s horrific.”

The head of DARPA shrugged. “It’s science. We were trying to reproduce the Kammler experiments, but without having all the pieces to the puzzle.”

“The bodies in the second photo; were those American soldiers?”

“Yes. They volunteered for the assignment and knew the risks they were taking.”

“But look what happened to them. They knew that was a possibility?”

“Yes, they did, and they also knew that it was one of the most promising pieces of technology the United States had ever worked on.”

“Pioneered by the Nazis,” said Slazas, shaking his head.

“As were cruise missiles, stealth aircraft, and rocket science. I would suggest our military has benefited tremendously from all of those.”

Slazas knew that data collected from Nazi experiments had helped advance science, particularly medicine, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Cooney studied Paxton. “You used the present tense when you spoke about the technology. You said it is temperamental. Are we to assume that the United States is still experimenting with it?”

“Yes,” replied Paxton. “We are, but with limited success.”

“How limited?” asked the chairman.

“Occasionally, we’re able to move very small, inanimate objects. We’ve also been able to move very basic living organisms, such as bacteria. Most of the advancements we have been able to make have come because of breakthroughs in the field of quantum teleportation.”

“Like what the Chinese just pulled off?”

Paxton knew what the man was talking about. In the open scientific community, the record for quantum teleportation had been held by a joint U.S.-European research team that had beamed particles from one side of the Danube to the other, a distance of six hundred meters. That feat had recently been shattered by the Chinese, who had beamed particles sixteen kilometers; twenty-five times the distance achieved by the U.S.-European team.

“Exactly,” said Leslie. “The potential military applications of this technology are limitless.”

“Which is why we requested this meeting,” said Walsh as he signaled Paxton to advance to her next slide. As she did, he said, “This picture was taken by one of our intelligence operatives in Paraguay two days ago.”

Cooney and Slazas stared at the screen.

“My God,” said the chairman. “Are you telling me that we’ve begun using human subjects again?”

Leslie shook her head. “No, sir. We don’t use human subjects. We haven’t since the forties. This wasn’t us.”

“Then who was it?”

“We believe someone has gotten access to the technology,” said Walsh.

“How? Has the program been compromised?”

“Anything is possible, but I doubt it,” said Paxton, who paused before adding, “The research is part of Stardust.”

The code name was immediately familiar to both Cooney and Slazas. Having realized by the 1990s that most of the United States’ top-secret research programs and facilities had been penetrated by foreign spies, the U.S. government embarked on one of its most ambitious, most highly classified projects ever. Codenamed Stardust, it was the Supermax of research facilities. The idea had been to put its best scientific eggs in one basket and then build a henhouse that none of the foxes would ever be able to get into.

Chairman Cooney stared at the screen. Without turning to look at Leslie or Jack he asked, “Let’s assume for a moment that the Stardust program hasn’t been penetrated. Where would someone have gotten this technology?”

“I would start at the beginning,” said Walsh. “At the Kammler facility in the Czech Republic.”

“Why?”

“Because we could only get a three-man team in there at the end of the war. It had been flooded by the Nazis and they had a very limited oxygen supply to explore with. With the Soviets advancing on their position, they had to move fast. They removed what documents they could and then used their explosives to try destroy the Engeltor Kammler had built. Exiting the the complex, they called in an airstrike to seal the facility permanently.

“I think we should send a team in to make sure it has remained sealed.”

“Why not use satellite imagery?”

“We tried that. The tree cover is too dense. Even if it weren’t, it’s an underground facility. Satellites wouldn’t be able to help us see through all that rock. That’s why I want to send a team in. Once they’re there, they can-”

“Hold on,” interrupted Slazas. “You’re serious. You want to send U.S. military personnel. Why don’t we ask the CIA to do this?”

Walsh looked to the chairman, “That’s not my call to make.”

Cooney knew his intelligence director well enough to ask, “I’m going to assume you have an opinion on it, right?”

“I do,” said Walsh, “and while we all agree that there are some very good people at the Agency, they’re not the organization they used to be. If they could do what we needed done, we wouldn’t be hiring so many private intel groups.”

Cooney nodded. “True.”

“The CIA also has no idea of the extent of our operations down in South America, particularly around the triborder region. If we bring them in on this, they’re going to end up learning a lot more about our intelligence-gathering than we want them to know.”

Again, the chairman said, “I agree.”

“What about informing the president?” asked Slazas.

Walsh shook his head. “I’m against it.”

“Why?”

“The director of Central Intelligence is an appointee. He’s an old friend and a political ally of the president’s. I think if we want this done right, we have to do it ourselves and keep it as quiet as possible.”

“We have a good relationship with the Czechs. Why don’t we bring them in to help on this?”

Walsh shook his head again. “There’s a lot we kept hidden from them at the end of the war. It’d be a big can of worms to open this late in the game. Besides, we’re only talking about a reconnaissance operation.”

Slazas’s feelings about the subject were clear from the look on his face.

Walsh understood that they had strayed into dangerous territory, especially with a civilian in the room. Smiling, he looked at Leslie and said, “Director Paxton, could you give us the room for a moment, please?”

“Of course,” replied Paxton as she unplugged her laptop and stepped outside.

When the soundproof door clicked shut behind her, Slazas looked at Cooney and said, “For the record, I want you to know I think this is a bad idea.”

“I have to tell you, I’m on the fence here,” added Cooney.

Walsh had expected this reaction. He pulled up a picture on his iPhone and slid it across the table. “I think this might change your mind.”

Cooney looked at the photo and then zoomed in on it. “Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?”

“Yes, sir” said Walsh. “We believe it’s a bomb of some sort.”

There was silence in the room. Cooney looked at Slazas, who reluctantly nodded.

Finally, General Cooney said, “If we do this, it will need to be done quietly and done completely under the radar. Do you understand?”