Gerrie Nelson - Lab Notes

Jerry tapped the touchscreen, and the electronic eyes lit up. Diane reentered from the hallway and stepped through the frame. Then just as she opened the glass door to reenter the lab, a pulsating electronic screech issued forth in quadraphonic sound, and Maggie shouted out, “Intruder entering, intruder entering.”

Jerry tapped “Reset” on the screen and the alarm fell silent. He looked over at Diane who appeared slightly stunned. “Of course, Maggie would give you a warmer greeting if she got to know you,” he said with a smile. “The problem is, no one knows how to introduce you to her—other than Harry Lee, that is.”

Diane glanced around the empty laboratory, then back at Wentzel. “Whatever happened to Dr. Lee?”

Jerry’s features drooped. “Nobody knows. He announced he was taking a sabbatical one day. Then he deleted all his work from the computers and disappeared the next night. They say he was burned out—most unfortunate.

“He was jack-of-all-sciences; a physicist, biologist—a gadgeteer who was onto a great discovery. And, he was a hacker extraordinaire. He’d tell me about his midnight excursions around the internet. He even hacked into government sites. I’d hold my ears and shout at him: ‘Don’t tell me those things. You’re making me an accessory.’ But it was exciting stuff.”

“This elaborate intruder alarm system—Maggie—was it just for fun or was it a serious project for Harry Lee?” Vincent asked.

“It’s a prototype for an ingenious biometric device. He was working on a real-time personal identification system more accurate than fingerprinting, and even more reliable than DNA testing.

“Interesting,” Diane said.

“If you can bear with me, I’ll try to pick my way through the rationale of his invention. Please don’t be offended if I get too basic.”

The Roses mumbled their assurances that it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Harry used Magnetic Resonance Imaging as a basis for his identification system. Maggie here operates on a technology that’s similar to the MRI used as a diagnostic tool in hospitals, and you may have used it the laboratory.”

The Roses acknowledged that they had indeed used an MRI system.

“As you probably know, the inventors of the MRI noted that the protons in the nucleus of every hydrogen atom in our bodies spin randomly in various directions. It’s my understanding that powerful magnetic fields created by the MRI align our protons like soldiers in a row, then a radio frequency pulse causes certain protons to spin in a particular direction. When the RF pulse is turned off, the protons return to their former alignment and release energy. The energy release is converted to mathematical data. The data, in turn, creates a picture. Are you with me so far? “

Diane and Vincent nodded.

Jerry went on to describe Harry Lee’s theory. Harry had gone a step or two further than the MRI developers. Dr. Lee postulated that the speed and direction of proton and electron movement in the body create an electronic signal that is different for each and every individual—your electromagnetic signature.

Jerry pointed to two vertical strips, with a pegboard pattern, attached inside the frame. “Harry added the ability to recognize an individual’s slightest motion using some way-out hocus-pocus kinetic theory. He planned to miniaturize it so an ID could be made with just a wiggle of the subject’s finger. Credit card companies and banks were already interested in the technology.”

Diane questioned whether BRI planned to continue the development of Harry Lee’s technology.

Jerry said, “I seriously doubt that it can be completed without Harry’s help.”

Before they moved on, Jerry let them peek into the temperature-controlled electronics room at the rear of the data area. He pointed out an impressive array of servers and assured them that BRI’s information technology system could handle all the data they could possibly pump into it.

The last part of the tour took them to the offices across from the labs. Jerry went from room to room switching on lights and soft music. “I’ll leave you to your own discoveries now,” he said, looking at his watch. “Lunch will be served in an hour aboard the Enterprise .

“The quickest way to the marina is through those double doors, then turn left to the back elevator. And by the way, Raymond said that the Enterprise captain Colton Fey will be available to open up Woodwind if you’re interested in seeing her.” Then, promising the Roses he’d see them at lunch, Jerry headed for the door.

Diane and Vincent walked slowly through the offices, gaping at the opulence around them. The suite included a large conference room with ebony table, plush seating, built in credenza, bar and wine cooler, and wall-mounted viewing monitor for presentations.

Lacquered ebony desks, bookshelves, credenzas and computer stations furnished a reception area and the three large offices that clustered around it. A dichromatic scheme of gray and subtle turquoise dominated the walls and carpets. Large water-color paintings of brilliant roseate spoonbills standing in muted turquoise marshes provided a focal point for every room. Diane took mental possession of the corner office. She stood before floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded unobstructed views of the bay, the marina and the bluff where BRI stood.

Atop the bluff, the venerable live oaks stood wearing their somber winter green. Out on the bay, shrimp boats dragged their nets while clouds of sea gulls chased behind them. A flock of white pelicans and a great blue heron fished near shore.

Vincent walked up behind Diane and placed his hands on her shoulders. She reached up and placed her hand over his. They stood there, quietly lost in thought, taking in the panorama.

Raymond Bellfort stood at the window looking down upon the marina from his first floor office suite, a John Phillip Sousa march blaring in the background. He observed Diane and Vincent Rose as they approached Woodwind in the company of Colton Fey.

Bellfort smirked when he saw Fey help Diane Rose climb aboard the sailboat—no doubt Colton licked his lips when she kicked off her pumps and hiked her skirt a few inches above her knees to negotiate the step up.

Raymond looked on as Vincent Rose ran his hand along Woodwind’s teak cap rail as though she were a thoroughbred. He watched as Vincent joined the others in the cockpit, positioned himself at the helm and threw his head back in laughter—an uncommon sight to be sure.

Just then, one of Andor’s assistants walked out onto the aft deck of the Enterprise and tugged at the ship’s bell lanyard.

Raymond silenced the music with his remote control and headed for his side door. Outside, he paused at the corner of the veranda to survey his formal gardens and marina.

Now, certain that he had won the Roses over, he took a deep breath and exhaled hard, his shoulders drooping in resignation.

Yami, the Kogi shaman and high priestess, emerged from her round mountain hut, reached for the bom pole beside the doorway and rang the assembly bell. Turning toward the steep, rocky pathway, she squinted against the gusts. Her face pulled up into bronze creases, the results of living seventy years close to the glare of the sun and blasts of the mountain’s breath on the northwestern slope.

Securing her red ceremonial ambodei at her waist, Yami made a slow descent, all the while observing the women congregating in the clearing below.

Even from twenty feet above them, Yami sensed the anticipation among the young priestesses, especially those who would provide food to the warrior hunters for the first time. Yami smiled as she watched the young women bustling from basket to basket. Their excited chatter could be heard over the roar of the mountain as they divided the bounty harvested from the tribe’s lofty fields and high valleys.