The Planck Factor

Swede shook his head. “Stanford makes you fill out a ream of forms before you can use their particle accelerator. They collect lots of information and make sure you’re trained . . . .”

“And not a terrorist?”

“Right. I’m sure they’ve checked our backgrounds. But they don’t ask exactly what we’re doing.” Another vehicle cruised by and a phantom light striped Swede’s pale face then faded. “These people had to get the information from another source.”

“What about your adviser? You told him, right?”

“Only the bare essentials. That we were testing out Magueijo’s VSL theories. We never told him what we found out about the Planck factor. We were afraid.” Swede lowered his head into his hands, holding it like a basketball. “I guess we were right to be. I guess we were stupid to keep it a secret.”

Alexis tried to wrap her mind around Swede’s words, but something wasn’t adding up. “How can you be so sure Daniel was killed over this? If they wanted your research, what would they gain from killing him?”

“To get to me. To force me to give it to them.”

Alexis shook her head. “I find that hard to believe. Maybe these people were with the government. They showed you their IDs, right?”

Swede shrugged. “So what if they did? You think these things can’t be forged?”

Alexis peered at Swede. Could there really be something to what he said? Or had all the secrecy around his work with Daniel made him paranoid? Or worse?

Maybe coming with Swede had been a bad idea. She should just play along. At least until she could think of a way to get clear of him.

Swede was shaking his head. “It’s all my fault. It was my idea to keep it secret. Daniel agreed, but it was my idea.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Alexis said, in a voice that sounded dull and unconvincing even to her. Don’t quit your day job for the theatre. “You did what you thought was right at the time.”

Neither spoke for a moment. The cop movie on TV was gearing up for what looked like a big finish. A battalion in SWAT gear huddled outside a brick building, while inside a man and woman did step-turn maneuvers around corners, their arms outstretched with handguns aimed, like Disneyland robots. It’s a Small World--and Very Violent--After All.

Alexis rubbed her face. Swede’s paranoia was exhausting. “So where are we going, anyway?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out. Perhaps a big city. Somewhere where we could get lost in the crowd.”

Alexis’ first thought was Seattle, but was that far enough? Swede stiffened and stared out the window. “Uh oh,” he said.

“What is it?” Alexis whispered, although she couldn’t imagine why she should do that.

“I’m not sure, but I think . . . .”

JESSICA

“Jessica!”

I lurched and my hands jumped from the keyboard. Gasping, I looked up to see Cynthia Dalrymple. One of Fred’s friends.

“Cyn. God. You startled me.”

“I’m sorry, Jess.” Cyn floated over and eased into the chair across from me, tossing a red silk scarf over one shoulder like Isadora Duncan. Recalling the famous dancer’s horrible death by strangulation when her scarf got caught in her car’s rear wheel, I caught myself checking behind Cyn for rotating mechanical devices.

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nbsp; Cyn giggled. A bubbly champagne sound. “I forget how wrapped up you get in your writing. What’re you working on?”

“Just a story.”

Cyn’s eyes widened. “Is this the novel? Oh, how cool! How’s it coming?”

“Okay, I guess.” It’s for shit, but it’s going just swell.

“Oh, I so envy you.” Cyn’s expression combined rapture and anguish. “I wish I could write. I would so love to be creative like you.”