“You’ll find your way. Trust me.”
He’s kidding, right?
Katherine’s heart was pounding as she stepped a few feet over the threshold, trying to peer into the darkness.
I can’t see a thing!
Suddenly the steel door hissed and slammed shut behind her, plunging her into total blackness. Not a speck of light anywhere. “Peter?!”
Silence.
You’ll find your way. Trust me.
Tentative, she inched forward blindly.
Leap of faith?
Katherine could not even see her hand directly in front of her face. She kept moving forward, but within a matter of seconds, she was entirely lost.
Where am I going?
That was three years ago.
Now, as Katherine arrived at the same heavy metal door, she realized how far she had come since that first night. Her lab—nicknamed the Cube—had become her home, a sanctuary within the depths of Pod 5. Exactly as her brother had predicted, she had found her way through the darkness that night, and every day since—thanks to an ingeniously simple guidance system that her brother had let her discover for herself.
Far more important, her brother’s other prediction had come true as well: Katherine’s experiments had produced astonishing results, particularly in the last six months, breakthroughs that would alter entire paradigms of thinking. Katherine and her brother had agreed to keep herresults absolutely secret until the implications were more fully understood. One day soon, however, Katherine knew she would publish some of the most transformative scientific revelations in human history.
A secret lab in a secret museum,
she thought, inserting her key card into the Pod 5 door. The keypad lit up, and Katherine typed her PIN.
The steel door hissed open.
The familiar hollow moan was accompanied by the same blast of cold air. As always, Katherine felt her pulse rate start to climb.
Strangest commute on earth
.
Steeling herself for the journey, Katherine Solomon glanced at her watch as she stepped into the void. Tonight, however, a troubled thought followed her inside.
Where is Peter?
CHAPTER 12
Capitol police chief Trent Anderson had overseen security in the U.S. Capitol Complex for over a decade. A burly, square-chested man with a chiseled face and red hair, he kept his hair cropped in a buzz cut, giving him an air of military authority. He wore a visible sidearm as a warning to anyone foolish enough to question the extent of his authority.
Anderson spent the majority of his time coordinating his small army of police officers from a high-tech surveillance center in the basement of the Capitol. Here he oversaw a staff of technicians who watched visual monitors, computer readouts, and a telephone switchboard that kept him in contact with the many security personnel he commanded.
This evening had been unusually quiet, and Anderson was pleased. He had been hoping to catch a bit of the Redskins game on the flat-panel television in his office. The game had just kicked off when his intercom buzzed.
“Chief?”
Anderson groaned and kept his eyes on the television as he pressed the button. “Yeah.”
“We’ve got some kind of disturbance in the Rotunda. I’ve got officers arriving now, but I think you’ll want to have a look.”
“Right.” Anderson walked into the security nerve center—a compact, neomodern facility packed with computer monitors. “What have you got?”
The technician was cueing a digital video clip on his monitor. “Rotunda east balcony camera. Twenty seconds ago.” He played the clip.
Anderson watched over the technician’s shoulder.
The Rotunda was almost deserted today, dotted with just a few tourists. Anderson’s trained eye went immediately to the one person who was alone and moving faster than all the others. Shaved head. Green army-surplus jacket. Injured arm in a sling. Slight limp. Slouched posture. Talking on a cell phone.
The bald man’s footfalls echoed crisply on the audio feed until, suddenly, arriving at the exact center of the Rotunda, he
He’s kidding, right?
Katherine’s heart was pounding as she stepped a few feet over the threshold, trying to peer into the darkness.
I can’t see a thing!
Suddenly the steel door hissed and slammed shut behind her, plunging her into total blackness. Not a speck of light anywhere. “Peter?!”
Silence.
You’ll find your way. Trust me.
Tentative, she inched forward blindly.
Leap of faith?
Katherine could not even see her hand directly in front of her face. She kept moving forward, but within a matter of seconds, she was entirely lost.
Where am I going?
That was three years ago.
Now, as Katherine arrived at the same heavy metal door, she realized how far she had come since that first night. Her lab—nicknamed the Cube—had become her home, a sanctuary within the depths of Pod 5. Exactly as her brother had predicted, she had found her way through the darkness that night, and every day since—thanks to an ingeniously simple guidance system that her brother had let her discover for herself.
Far more important, her brother’s other prediction had come true as well: Katherine’s experiments had produced astonishing results, particularly in the last six months, breakthroughs that would alter entire paradigms of thinking. Katherine and her brother had agreed to keep herresults absolutely secret until the implications were more fully understood. One day soon, however, Katherine knew she would publish some of the most transformative scientific revelations in human history.
A secret lab in a secret museum,
she thought, inserting her key card into the Pod 5 door. The keypad lit up, and Katherine typed her PIN.
The steel door hissed open.
The familiar hollow moan was accompanied by the same blast of cold air. As always, Katherine felt her pulse rate start to climb.
Strangest commute on earth
.
Steeling herself for the journey, Katherine Solomon glanced at her watch as she stepped into the void. Tonight, however, a troubled thought followed her inside.
Where is Peter?
CHAPTER 12
Capitol police chief Trent Anderson had overseen security in the U.S. Capitol Complex for over a decade. A burly, square-chested man with a chiseled face and red hair, he kept his hair cropped in a buzz cut, giving him an air of military authority. He wore a visible sidearm as a warning to anyone foolish enough to question the extent of his authority.
Anderson spent the majority of his time coordinating his small army of police officers from a high-tech surveillance center in the basement of the Capitol. Here he oversaw a staff of technicians who watched visual monitors, computer readouts, and a telephone switchboard that kept him in contact with the many security personnel he commanded.
This evening had been unusually quiet, and Anderson was pleased. He had been hoping to catch a bit of the Redskins game on the flat-panel television in his office. The game had just kicked off when his intercom buzzed.
“Chief?”
Anderson groaned and kept his eyes on the television as he pressed the button. “Yeah.”
“We’ve got some kind of disturbance in the Rotunda. I’ve got officers arriving now, but I think you’ll want to have a look.”
“Right.” Anderson walked into the security nerve center—a compact, neomodern facility packed with computer monitors. “What have you got?”
The technician was cueing a digital video clip on his monitor. “Rotunda east balcony camera. Twenty seconds ago.” He played the clip.
Anderson watched over the technician’s shoulder.
The Rotunda was almost deserted today, dotted with just a few tourists. Anderson’s trained eye went immediately to the one person who was alone and moving faster than all the others. Shaved head. Green army-surplus jacket. Injured arm in a sling. Slight limp. Slouched posture. Talking on a cell phone.
The bald man’s footfalls echoed crisply on the audio feed until, suddenly, arriving at the exact center of the Rotunda, he
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