Chapter 10
"Not many," I replied.
"The thing’s in perfect condition. Not a scratch. It doesn't show any signs of wear or oxidation. It looks like a watch that just came out of the display case."
"Sounds like he took good care of it.”
"He did.” She paused. "You should check with the vintage watch dealers, online auction sites, and retailers. If a watch like that was sold recently, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
"It could have been passed down in his family from his grandfather. You never know.”
"It's your investigation. But it might be worth looking into."
"I'm on it. Is there anything else?"
"That's all for now, but I'll give you a call if anything comes up."
We left the hospital and drove to the Seven Seas. I wanted to have another word with Klaus Brenner.
Jack pulled the car up to the valet. We hopped out, and he took the ticket. JD and I hustled through the lobby and hurried toward the pool. We stepped outside, moved past the sun goddesses, and headed toward the cabanas.
I put a heavy fist against Klaus’s door.
A moment later, light footsteps shuffled down the foyer, and a soft female voice filtered through. “Who is it?”
I shared a look with Jack, then flashed my badge to the peephole. "Coconut County.”
The woman unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open with curious eyes. She was a cute brunette in her mid-20s with sculpted cheekbones and a nice figure. Wrapped in a fluffy white robe, it looked like she had just gotten out of the shower. "Is there some kind of problem?"
"Looking for Klaus?”
Her brow wrinkled with confusion. "Who?"
"The gentleman occupying this suite.”
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. I just checked in late last night. I suppose you’re looking for the previous occupant.”
"Yes, indeed, we are. What’s your name?"
"Clarissa."
I smiled. "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am."
"No problem." She stepped back and closed the door.
JD and I shared a curious glance, then hurried back to the front desk.
“It’s a little odd that he just took off, don’t you think?” JD muttered. “What about his business here in town?”
“Maybe whatever they were working on was dead in the water without Rudolph.”
I asked the desk clerk about Klaus.
She tapped the keys and brought up the information on the screen. "It seems like Mr. Brenner checked out of the Coconut Cabana yesterday afternoon.”
"You wouldn't happen to know where he went?”
She smiled. "No. He didn't say. I suppose he went back to wherever he came from."
I gave her a card and told her to call me if he checked back in.
The sheriff called as we left. “You two need to get down to the station, pronto. Thompson’s bringing in a consultant. I guess there’s a little more to this device than meets the eye.”
I exhaled. “We’re on our way.”
JD and I hopped into the Porsche and zipped over to the station.
We met up with the sheriff in the conference room with Special Agent Thompson, a few other FBI and ATF agents, deputies on the joint task force, and a rather attractive blonde.
I was a little surprised to see her here. It didn’t quite compute.
Chatter filled the room, bouncing off the walls. Thompson spotted JD and me. He still looked pretty sour about having to deal with us. “Alright, people. Looks like we’re all here. Have a seat.”
We slid into comfy leather chairs around the large oak table, and the commotion settled.
Thompson introduced the blonde that I’d had the good fortune to meet the night before. “This is Dr. Emily Foster. She’s a theoretical physicist with DRI, which means she’s smarter than all you pea brains combined.”
There were a few chuckles.
“I’ve asked her to consult on this because, quite frankly, this is out of my league. Hopefully, she can explain this in a manner we can all understand. So pay attention.”
“Good morning,” Emily said, taking center stage.
She spotted me, and a moment of surprise filled her eyes.
“Thanks for taking the time. I know you all are extremely busy. So, I’ll get down to business.
What I’m about to tell you is classified.
You’ve all been cleared, but this discussion does not leave this room.
” She looked around for acknowledgement, then took a breath.
“The bomb that was rendered safe by Deputy Wild,” she said, glancing down at her notes, “is an advanced design similar to something we’ve developed at the Defense Research Institute.
I was called in early this morning and spent several hours analyzing the design.
I feel confident saying this is a primitive version of our quantum pulse technology. ”
“Is it advanced or is it primitive?” one of the ATF guys snarked.
A few chuckles bounced around.
Emily was not amused. “It’s a crude version of cutting-edge technology. It’s extremely concerning that someone in the general public has the ability to construct a device like this. At a larger scale, a weapon like this could be catastrophic.”
That hung there for a second.
“So, what are we dealing with?” I asked.
“That’s a good question, Deputy…?”
“Wild,” I said with a smile. “Tyson Wild.”
Her left eyebrow raised with slight recognition.
“Well, it seems we have you to thank for preserving the device. As I mentioned previously, this appears to be a quantum pulse bomb. Simply put, the device emits a burst of coherent quantum phase energy that disrupts the lattice structure of atoms by collapsing their quantum—”
Thompson put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “In English.”
With a bunch of blank faces staring back at her, Emily adjusted. “Oh, right. Sorry. The device is based on a super-heavy isotope created by a particle accelerator that we call Oblivium-74. When destabilized, Oblivium emits—“
With another hand on her shoulder, Thompson said slowly, “Like they’re five.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” Emily nodded, took a breath, and thought momentarily about how to dumb it down.
“Okay, so the decay of Oblivium triggers a pulse of quantum decoherence…” She realized she was doing it again and course corrected.
“It rips apart matter at the atomic and subatomic level. Molecular bonds are broken.”
“It basically unmakes matter,” I said, putting it all together.
“Exactly. Oblivium decays fully, leaving behind no radiation, no combustion artifacts, no chemical residue.”
“A nuke without the fallout,” I said.
“Essentially, yes. You can imagine the military applications for this technology. Yields can be adjusted for extremely precise strikes.”
“And you say Oblivium is an isotope manufactured in the lab?”
“Yes.”
“So, where did they acquire the Oblivium?”