Zero Game - Brad Meltzer [111]
Avoiding the main entrance for the airport, I head for the private air terminal and turn into the parking lot outside an enormous blue hangar. We’re the only car there. I take it as a good sign.
“So what do you think the tubes and the mercury and the dry-cleaning smell is for?” Viv asks as we get out of the car.
I stay silent as we head under a bright red canopy and follow the sign marked Lobby. Inside, there’s an executive lounge with oak furniture, a big flat-screen TV, and a Native American rug. Just like the one Matthew used to have in his office.
“Senator Stevens’s party?” a short-haired blond asks from behind the reception desk.
“That’s us,” I reply. Pointing over my shoulder, I add, “I didn’t know where to return the car . . .”
“There is fine. We’ll have it picked up for you, sir.”
It’s one less thing to worry about, but it doesn’t even come close to lightening my load. “So the plane is all set to go?”
“I’ll let the pilot know you’re here,” she says, picking up the phone. “Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
I look over at Viv, then down at the notebook in her hands. We need to figure out what’s going on—and the way I left things in D.C., there’s still one place I need to follow up on. “Do you have a phone I can use?” I ask the woman at the reception desk. “Preferably somewhere private?”
“Of course, sir—upstairs and to the right is our conference room. Please help yourself.”
I give Viv a look.
“Right behind you,” Viv says as we head up the stairs.
The conference room has an octagonal table and a matching credenza that holds a saltwater aquarium. Viv goes for the aquarium; I go for the window, which overlooks the front of the hangar. All’s clear. For now.
“So you never answered the question,” Viv says. “Whattya think that sphere in the lab is for?”
“No idea. But it’s clearly got something to do with neutrinos.”
She nods, remembering the words from the corner of each page. “And a neutrino . . .”
“I think it’s some type of subatomic particle.”
“Like a proton or electron?”
“I guess,” I say, staring back out the window. “Beyond that, you’re already out of my league.”
“So that’s it? That’s all we’ve got?”
“We can do more research when we get back.”
“But for all we know it could be good, though, right? It might be good.”
I finally look away from the window. “I don’t think it’s gonna be good.”
She doesn’t like that answer. “How can you be so sure?”
“You really think it’s something good?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe it’s just research—like a government lab or something. Or maybe they’re just trying to turn stuff into gold. That can’t hurt anyone, can it?”
“Turn stuff into gold?”
“The project is called Midas.”
“You really think it’s possible to turn things to gold?”
“You’re asking me? How should I know? Anything’s possible, right?”
I don’t respond. In the past two days, she’s relearned the answer to that one. But the way she bounces on her heels, she still hasn’t completely given up on it. “Maybe it’s something else with the Midas story,” she adds. “I mean, he turned his daughter into a statue, right? He do anything else beside giving her the ultimate set of gold teeth?”
“Forget mythology—we should talk to someone who knows their science,” I point out. “Or who can at least tell us why people would bury a neutrino lab in a giant hole below the earth.”
“There we go—now we’re moving . . .”
“We can call the National Science Foundation. They helped us with some of the high-tech issues when we did hearings on the cloning bill last year.”
“Yeah—good. Perfect. Call ’em now.”
“I will,” I say as I pick up the phone on the octagonal table. “But not until I make one other call first.”
As the phone rings in my ear, I look back out the window for Janos’s car. We’re still alone.
“Legislative Resource Center,” a woman answers.
“Hi, I’m looking for Gary.”
“Which one? We’ve got two Garys.”
Only in Congress.
“I’m not sure.” I try to remember his last name, but even I’m not that good. “The one who keeps track of all the lobbying disclosure