The little Penning trap beeped and the green light on its side changed from blinking to solid.
“The transfer is done,” Spiro said. “I’ll get someone to help us move it to the transport.”
Tin Man watched Spiro leave the warehouse. “You’re not taking him with us?”
“He’s leaving with us, but he won’t be walking off the plane in Hawaii. You know how I hate loose ends.”
NINETEEN
EMERSON AND RILEY WATCHED FROM THEIR hiding place until the guards left with the portable Penning trap and the room was empty.
“Wow,” Riley said. “What do you think they’ve got in that thing?”
Emerson opened the warehouse’s back door a crack and peeked out. There was still a guard hanging around. “I don’t know. The concept of a Penning trap has been around since 1923.”
“You don’t know enough to leave red buttons alone, but you know what year the Penning trap was invented.”
“Hans Dehmelt won the Nobel Prize in Physics for its invention in 1989. It made a major impact in my life.”
“You wanted to be a physicist?”
“No, I wanted to be Captain Kirk. The Penning trap is basically a vacuum environment capable of containing charged antimatter in a magnetic prison. Antimatter is what makes warp speed possible, without which the starship Enterprise could never have explored strange new worlds.”
“Could they be harvesting antimatter?”
Emerson shook his head. “The universe is composed of nearly fifty percent antimatter. If you wanted to get your hands on some you wouldn’t have to tap into the earth’s core. Besides, a Penning trap that size wouldn’t hold enough to destroy this compound, let alone a continent.”
“What else can a Penning trap hold?”
“Plasmas.”
“Let’s pretend I don’t know anything about physics or Star Trek.”
“There are four types of ordinary matter—solids, liquids, gasses, and plasmas. Plasmas are the only type of matter that doesn’t naturally exist on the earth under normal surface conditions. They’re basically created from neutral gasses, like hydrogen, by ionizing them and giving them an electrical charge. Lightning, neon signs, television screens, and the aurora borealis are all examples.”
“So are plasmas rare? Could that be what they’re collecting?” Riley asked.
Emerson peeked out the door again. The guard was gone.
“Plasmas are the most common type of ordinary matter in existence,” Emerson said. “The sun and stars are all basically superheated balls of plasma. Plasmas are kind of the building blocks of the universe.”
Riley and Emerson walked out into the cold night air and skirted around the perimeter of the compound. There was a lot of activity, but all the attention was focused on the transport and Humvee idling in front of the warehouse.
“This is it,” Emerson said. “We’re not going to find a better time than this to make our escape.”
They sprinted to the surrounding woods, and Riley breathed a sigh of relief when they were hidden from sight. “How far do you think it is back the gatehouse?”
“Not far. Maybe a mile or two. It’s going to be slow going in the dark, though. I saw a lot of thermal features on the way in. I don’t want to accidentally fall into any pools of boiling water.”
They trudged along the Jeep trail in silence for several minutes.
“You know, Emerson, something you said back in the compound reminds me of something Professor White told us back at George Mason University.”
“What’s that?”
“That plasmas formed the building blocks of the universe,” Riley said. “Didn’t the professor say that mantle plumes contained trace amounts of cosmic leftovers—the same materials that formed the stars before the earth was created? She said they were a clue to the forces of creation.”
Emerson stopped and stared at Riley. “I’m promoting you to senior amanuensis, effective immediately, for having invaluable insight and a brilliant memory.”
“Thank you,” Riley said.
“And because you look good naked,” Emerson added.
“Would I still get the promotion if I didn’t look good naked?”
“Yes, but you might not get the additional benefits.”
Now that Riley knew Emerson was possibly a horndog, she had some idea of the benefits. She felt a rush of heat curl through her stomach and head south.
“Good to know,” Riley said. “Do you know what’s in the Penning trap?”
“No, not exactly, but I have a theory. I think it’s some cosmic remnant from the swirling nebula of stellar gasses that formed our solar system four and half billion years ago. Some very rare, very dangerous primordial element that can only be found at the earth’s core, and every once in a rare while a little bit of it bubbles to the surface, courtesy of a mantle plume volcano.”
A diesel engine rumbled from the direction of the compound.
“It’s the transport,” Emerson said. “They’re heading out.”
Emerson and Riley ran for cover, flattening themselves under a clump of scrub brush. Lights flashed onto the road and the Humvee appeared, followed by the transport. Tin Man was standing in the back cargo bed of the Humvee methodically shining a spotlight into the woods, first to one side then the other.
“They’re looking for us,” Riley whispered to Emerson. “We must have been spotted leaving the compound.”
“They’re looking for something,” Emerson said. “Whether it is us or not is unclear at this time.”
Tin Man played the light across their bush. Riley held her breath, and the light moved on. The Humvee and transport slowly drove another hundred feet down the road before Tin Man said something into a walkie-talkie and the convoy abruptly stopped. Tin Man hopped off the Humvee, opened the rear passenger door, and dragged Spiro out of the vehicle and onto the road.
Spiro was babbling, and when he passed in front of the transport headlights Riley could see that he was shaking. He stumbled and fell to his knees, but Tin Man yanked him to his feet and shoved him toward the woods. Spiro resisted, and Tin Man hit him hard on the side of his face. Spiro sobbed once and went silent. They disappeared into the woods, and Emerson moved out from under cover.
“Stay here,” he said to Riley.
Riley grabbed Emerson by his shirtsleeve. “Telling me to ‘stay here’ implies that you’re not.”
“They’re going to kill him,” Emerson said. “I have to try to do something.”
The sound of a brief struggle carried out of the woods. There was a SPLOOSH, and then bloodcurdling screaming. Tin Man reappeared, got back into the Humvee, and the convoy disappeared down the road.
Emerson and Riley ran down the Jeep trail, toward the screaming. By the time they turned into the woods, the screams had turned into whimpers. The smell of rotten eggs hung heavy in the air. Directly in front of them, lit by moonlight, was a large, nasty-looking, steaming, bubbling mud pot.
“Spiro,” Emerson shouted. “Where are you?”
A mud-covered hand lifted in response. It was Spiro, lying half in and half out of the boiling, sulfuric mud hole. He was covered with the scorching brown sludge, making him almost indistinguishable from the surrounding dirt.
Emerson knelt beside him. “Hang on. We’re going to get you out.”
Spiro looked up and blinked. His skin was sloughing off his face, and his blood was mingling with the mud. “Emerson Knight and Riley Moon? Why are you here?”
“I told my friend I would find his island,” Emerson said. “I have to know what happened.”
“Mauna Kea,” Spiro said.
“What’s at Mauna Kea?” Riley asked. “What will we find there?”
Spiro closed his eyes and blew out his final breath of air. “Armageddon.”
It was two in the morning by the time Emerson and Riley got back to the gatehouse. The two guards were still half naked and handcuffed to the woodstove. Vernon and Wayan Bagus still looked ridiculous in their ill-fitting uniforms and were playing cards.
Vernon looked up. “Boy, am I glad to see you. Little Buddy cheats something fierce.”
“I win only through my superior skills,” Wayan Bagus said. “Vernon cannot concentrate.”