Kevin Anderson - Lethal Exposure

The too-cute rustic coffee shop was set off the main street, shaded by trees that had just begun to shed their leaves. Inside, Formica-topped tables and red vinyl booths filled most of the floor space. A wooden stage held an old Fender amplifier, two microphones, a stool, and four guitar stands for Friday night festivities. The smell of different coffee beans wafted through the air-French vanilla, Irish creme, amaretto, mocha, all tumbled together.

Bretti sat alone outside in the clear, cool autumn air. He had never felt so isolated in his life. What was he going to do? He looked at his watch again and groaned. The Indian bastard better show up.

Bretti took another drag, then coughed. Inside the coffee shop, the only other customer-some girl who hadn’t even looked his way when he’d entered-kept her nose buried in the Chicago Sun . Good. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself.

Chandrawalia had told Bretti to meet him there, in no uncertain terms. Bretti hadn’t dared slip into Fermilab yet. He had even cruised past his apartment three times before he finally decided no one was watching the place-but still, he refused to flick on his lights. He had stumbled in the dark to his bed, crashed, and spent most of the night trying to sleep.

Back at the accelerator, his crystal-lattice trap should still be installed down in the beam-shunt tunnel, unnoticed. It had been two days since he had left, two days since he had shot the FBI agent. No doubt teams were crawling over the site, but they would be concentrating on the substations, where the first explosion had occurred and where the shooting had happened. He doubted they would have any reason to scour the experimental target areas.

He had no idea if the FBI was watching for him, if they even suspected. Would they come and arrest him in the middle of the night, have a stakeout inside Fermilab-or would he get away with everything, no one the wiser?

Bretti took another sip of espresso, tasting the burned bitter smell on his tongue as it mixed with tobacco smoke. Then he saw Chandrawalia coming down the street, wearing a blue turban. The tall Indian stood out, even when he was dressed in a short sleeve, open-collar shirt. Chandrawalia gave a perfunctory bow, scraping a heavy chair across the patio concrete to take a seat next to Bretti. He didn’t seem to have any intention of ordering coffee for himself.

“You’re late,” Bretti said.

“Traffic,” Chandrawalia said. His dark eyes searched the near-deserted coffee shop. “Your car is still parked at the Consulate garage. When are you going to pick it up?”

Bretti shook his head. “It’s too risky. I may just have to ditch it.”

Chandrawalia was unimpressed. “I am told that your trip to Bangalore was disappointing to Dr. Punjab. That is very disturbing news to me. I thought we had an agreement.”

Bretti tried to look Chandrawalia in the eye, but the man’s gaze kept jumping from one spot to another on the street, in the coffee shop. He leaned forward. “I told you that I had to get out of the country. And fast. Don’t you watch the news? They still might be looking for me after the explosion and after the shooting.”

“And why should we help you when you have proven yourself unreliable? And a danger to us as well.” Chandrawalia’s eyes seemed to click as he swung his entire focus to Bretti. He scowled, showing perfect white teeth against his dark skin. “You did not deliver the quantity of antimatter we had agreed upon. Our work depends on those p-bars. You have caused many difficulties for us.”

Bretti fumbled for another cigarette, indignant. “Hey, I brought you more than you ever had before-”

“And now you must do much better. I had to arrange some political favors to get you and your antimatter into India in the first place. Do you think it was easy for me to use a diplomatic pouch to transport your device?”

“I did the best I could,” said Bretti defensively.

“No doubt you discovered that other, competing political parties in my government are already highly suspicious of my activities.” Chandrawalia leaned forward to emphasize the words. “The next time you enter my country it will not be so easy to get past customs.”

Bretti took another sip of the now-cold espresso, feeling the acid of caffeine roil in his stomach. It was now even clearer just how much the Indians needed him. He started to feel cocky. “Fine, I’ve got one crystal-lattice trap hidden in the main experimental target tunnel, and another in one of the substations, collecting stray antimatter. The large one should have collected ten times what I promised you, more antimatter than has ever been stored before. In fact, we may even be nearing the capacity of the device design.” His eyes glittered- now he finally had the man’s attention.

“I can go fetch it early tomorrow morning, after midnight, and we can be on our way-but I need something more from you.” He narrowed his eyes and nervously stroked his goatee.

Chandrawalia stiffened. “We have already paid you a great deal of money for an incomplete task-”

Bretti pounded his fist on the metal table, rattling his espresso cup. “And you need to be ready to offer me sanctuary. If things go to hell around here, I may have to run. This isn’t like shoplifting a candy bar from a grocery store. The FBI is already on site, and my advisor Dumenco just may be able to figure out what’s going on, if he lives that long. He’s probably the only one who can unravel what’s happening to his enhanced beam, where all the extra antimatter is going. I may have to lie low in your country for a while.”

Bretti swallowed hard, but tried not to let uneasiness show on his face. He wasn’t a professional criminal, didn’t have any idea how to cover up evidence, keep his alibi straight, avoid suspicion. For all he knew, he could have left telltale, incriminating signs all over the place.

“I’m afraid that is impossible, Dr. Bretti,” Chandrawalia said coolly.

Fueled by the caffeine-charged espresso, Bretti stood up. “You don’t seem to understand who’s calling the shots around here!”

Chandrawalia looked at him with a maddeningly smug expression. “Yes I do, Dr. Bretti. I understand quite well. It is you that does not understand that I do not speak for India -my position is a concession of the party now in charge, a position designed so that the People’s Liberty for All coalition will support the present government. After our work with your antimatter supply succeeds, perhaps then my political party will be in a position to offer you asylum. For now, we are at as great a risk as you are.”

Bretti’s cheeks burned. “For doing medical research ! Give me a break.”

Chandrawalia lowered his voice. “Don’t be stupid, Mr . Bretti.” The Indian’s words stung. “Even I did not think you to be so dense. If we really wanted the antimatter for commercial applications, we would have gone through your Department of Commerce. These p-bars will be used for weapons applications- nuclear weapons, a bold new design.”

“That’s crazy,” said Bretti, confused. “You don’t use p-bars in a nuclear chain reaction-” But as he spoke, he realized he wasn’t sure. In fact, he had no idea, had never even considered the possibility. Holy shit , he thought. Nuclear weapons? What have I gotten into ?

“Properly harnessed, antimatter injected into an imploding bomb core can dramatically increase the yield. These results have been widely reported by a research group at your own Penn State. In short, with the proper technology, your antimatter will allow us to build far more warheads with far less precious plutonium. It will give India a strategic advantage such as we have never had over Pakistan or China -and the People’s Liberation for All party will become heroes.”