Project J

Project J

by Sean Brandywine

Copyright 2013 Sean Brandywine

Published by Strict Publishing International

Chapter 1:
 
Auditor in a Blue Corvette

Tamara Graves looked at the buildings and smiled.
 
Leave it to security people to make a site always look like high-security.
 
There was the chain link fence with barbed wire atop it, the guard gate, the armed sentries, a large sign proclaiming “No Trespassing” and “Use of Deadly Force Authorized”; all the things you need to shout to the world: look here, a High Security, Top Secret Place.

If she had her way, it would look nothing like a security installation, more like a small office building, an appearance enhanced by a concrete sign out front proclaiming an insurance company, a couple of legal firms, and, larger than the others, “Coast Medical Data Repository”.
 
Make it look bland and ordinary, and of no interest to anyone.
 
Easier to keep your secrets that way.

Oh, and don’t put it out in the middle of nowhere where it was the only sign of human activity for miles around.

But there it was, in the middle of the New Mexico mountains not more than twelve miles from Los Alamos, where a hell of a lot of other secrets are kept.
 
The sign in front proclaimed “Chronodyne Corp.” and below that “Project Dry Wells”, whatever that meant.

At least the scenery was pretty: pine trees, a clear blue sky, and fresh air.

She pulled up to the guard gate and began getting her credentials from her purse.
 
The guard was not military but from a private security agency.
 
Still, he had the look of former military about him.
 
Probably a veteran.
 
He gave her ID a good going over, looking up at her face several times as if he doubted it was the same face as on the ID.
 
Finally, finding no reason to turn her away, or arrest her, he gave back the cards and waved her through.
 
She could almost see him fight the urge to salute.
 
Military training is so hard to overcome.

The place looked much like a military base, with a couple dozen large buildings that could almost have been hangars but were not, and a few that could pass for office buildings.
 
It was to the closest one of those, the one marked “Main Offices,” that she drove up and parked in the lot.
 
In a stall marked “Visitor” of course.
 
Her car lacked the required parking permit.

Standing beside her metallic blue Corvette, Tamara enjoyed a deep breath of the mountain air, and sighed.
 
She missed her Colorado hometown, and she was seriously worried about her health spending most of her time in large cities, breathing in car fumes and heaven only knew what.
 
The site had all the lovely pine trees cut down to the fence line, which was a shame for a girl who was born in a pine forest and lived there for her first eighteen years.

But this was not a vacation and she had work to do.
 
Clasping her purse solidly to her side, she marched up the concrete walkway to the front door.
 
Within there was a receptionist, but not a pleasant looking female.
 
Instead, it was another of the private security forces type.
 
Again, Tamara’s ID was carefully checked several times, the receptionist consulted a computer twice, and finally reached into a drawer to hand her a Visitor’s Pass.

“I will need to see Dr. Stryker as soon as possible,” she told him.

“I will get you an escort.”
 
It was, of course, another armed guard who was none too subtle giving this young lady a good going over that neatly undressed her with his eyes.
 
But she was used to that.

“This way, ma’am.”

The office she was led to was on the top floor, which was not saying much considering the building was only two stories.
 
A simple sign on the door read: “Dr. Brian Stryker, Project Director.”

Inside, she was handed off to another receptionist, or secretary, it was hard to tell, but at least a female one this time.
 
Not a bad looking younger woman with a body that filled out the business suite nicely, and long blonde hair.
 
Dr. Stryker knew how to pick them for looks at least.

“I need to see Dr. Stryker.”

“Have you an appointment?”
 
Her voice was much like Marylyn Monroe singing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President.”

“If I had an appointment, then this wouldn’t be a surprise audit, would it?” Tamara informed tartly.

The blonde pursed her lips and seemed on the verge of flatly refusing to let this intruder anywhere near her boss.
 
But the ID card did say “Department of Defense”, and that pulled a lot of weight in a place that might be private enterprise but got a great deal of money from government contracts.

“I’ll see if he’s free,” she said, sounding as if it would be a serious imposition.

She got up and entered the inner door without knocking.

Tamara was quite certain that the woman could have called him far more easily, but wanted to let him know in person that the DOD was paying a surprise visit – never a pleasant experience.
 
She waited, as she had in many other outer offices.

“Dr. Stryker will see you now,” the secretary informed.
 
It would have been nice had she held the inner door open or been polite in some manner, but she went right back to her chair and seemed to forget about the visitor.

‘The Project Director should teach his staff that DOD auditors are important people,’ she thought as she opened the door herself.

The office was much as she expected.
 
Oak walls, several cabinets, scientific awards in frames, photos of him with a few top scientists and politicians, a window looking out over rooftops and on to the distant mountains still retaining their caps of snow.
 
There was a computer, but she noted it was not on his desk but a side table.
 
The doctor was standing, and he came around the desk to greet her.
 
He was middle aged, receding hairline, about half gray, and a bit of a double chin.
 
All in all, he looked like a businessman going to pot slowly as the years drifted by.
 
Perhaps a banker, but not the classic image of an award-winning physicist that he was.
 
His handshake was firm but not overpowering.
 
For a brief couple seconds they eyed each other carefully, and then he asked her to have a seat.

“Coffee?
 
Tea?” he asked.

“Tea would be nice.
 
Herbal, if you have it,” she told him.
 
She really did not feel like a drink, but asking for it would mean that the secretary would have to get it, and that petty imposition pleased Tamara.
 
‘Really shouldn’t be that way,’ she told herself, but it was just part of the game.

As predicted, he pressed a button on his phone and asked “Miss Swanson” to fetch coffee and tea, herbal.

“Have you been to this part of the country before?” he asked politely while they waited.

“My job takes me all around the country,” she told him.
 
Actually, lately she had mostly been visiting companies in California and Texas.
 
But she was familiar with the East Coast defense industries also.
 
She did like what she saw of the mountains in northern New Mexico, and she told him so.
 
They reminded her very much of her hometown.

The tea and coffee came in quickly, and the next minute was taken up in preparing the drinks.
 
The Doctor liked his coffee with lots of sugar; Tamara preferred her herbal tea straight, but after sniffing it and discovering it was orange flavored, she put sugar in it to dull the taste.
 
She much preferred mint teas.

“Dr. Stryker, let’s get right down to business,” she said after taking a sip.
 
“I’m here to do an audit of your Project Dry Wells.”

“We had an audit from DOD just last February,” he mildly protested.

“Yes, but that was a science review audit.
 
I’m here to do a financial and records audit.”

The doctor’s face turned a little paler.
 
“Oh,” he said, then busied himself with his coffee while he thought about that.

“Yes,” she went on.
 
“I’ll need access, of course, to your financial records, and, of course, someone to help as liaison.
 
Will also require security clearance on your computer system.”

“Miss Graves, we are classified at the highest level of clearance here.
 
I don’t believe I can just give you unlimited access to our computers.”

“My clearance is also of the highest level.
 
You should receive a communication from my boss, telling you to grant every consideration.
 
Probably in an encrypted email.
 
May already be in your email.”

The project director looked unhappy.
 
Which she was used to.
 
Nobody likes to have an auditor prowling around inside their books and files.
 
Might find too many secrets they would rather keep hidden.

Before he could react, she continued, “I am well aware of the level of your security clearances here.
 
In fact, I was not able to find out just what it is you do here, even though I tried, it is that high.
 
And few things escape my attention.
 
Dr. Marcus, my boss, said that you would give me a briefing about the nature of your project, so I can have a better idea of you expenditures and such.”

“I will need to confirm your security clearance before any briefing.
 
Perhaps tomorrow morning?” he suggested.

“Check it now,” she said firmly but without raising her voice.
 
“I would like to get started this afternoon.”
 
She had learned over the years that if you wanted people to jump, you had to sound as if you expected no other reaction.
 
And don’t give them time to plan a defense.

“Hmm...”
 
It was clear he wanted to have time to get together with his department heads and give them time to get things in order – and hide that which should be hidden.
 
She had seen this kind of delaying before.

“You have come on rather short notice...” he began.

“It is a surprise audit,” she cut him off.
 
“Wouldn’t be, if I call ahead, now would it?”
 
She smiled and tried to keep any gloating expression off her face.

He would comply because he had no other option.
 
Much, if not all, of this project’s funding came from the Defense Department, and they dared not antagonize the hand that feeds them, to misquote a phrase.

“I would suggest that you begin by checking your inbox.”

He made an unpleasant noise but turned to his computer.
 
The man was just not used to some young woman waltzing into his office and giving him orders.
 
After a minute, he found and read the encrypted email she had mentioned, frowning as he did.
 
She could see his face reflected on the monitor’s screen.
 
But when he turned to her, there was a smile on his face; not a warm smile but a polite one.
 
He knew when he was beat.

“Of course, Miss Graves.
 
I’ll have my secretary clear my appointments and give you a briefing myself.”

“That will be fine, Doctor.”

Informing Miss Swanson to hold his calls and cancel all appointments, he also told her to have a Dr. Crane meet them in Conference Room A.
 
Tamara did not think that the doctor had any real appointments, but she kept that to herself.
 
Conference Room A was on the ground floor but only a short walk downstairs and along a corridor.
 
It had the usual screen for projections, a couple white boards, U-shaped table, chairs and a couple side tables, all looking well used.

After a minute, another man came in.
 
He was mid-thirties, slender, a hand’s width over six feet in height, and looked like a nerd – but one tall enough to make the basketball team.
 
A scraggly van Dyke beard adorned a slender face with a hawk-billed nose, on which perched a pair of thick-lensed glasses.