Quantum (3 page)

‘The blue sphere, the heart of this device, contains nothing – it has been evacuated as completely as current technology allows. Surrounding it are three rings of a room-temperature superconducting material recently developed at Stanford University. The rings provide the strong electrical field I mentioned a moment ago.’

Sandstrom then pulled two small, freestanding digital devices from the case and plugged them together in series.

‘These are standard watt meters that we use to measure the electric power on the input and output sides of the device. The calibration on both meters’ – Sandstrom paused as he plugged a cord from the first meter into a wall receptacle – ‘should be identical – which I am pleased to see is the case.’

Both meters registered identical 2200 watts. Satisfied the audience understood that both meters were operating properly, Sandstrom unplugged the cord, disconnected the meters, and reconnected them to jacks on opposite sides of the device. He then stood beside the table, holding the cord to the first meter in one hand.

‘According to the first law of thermodynamics, the total amount of energy coming out of a system must be equal to the total amount of energy going in. This phenomenon is known as conservation of energy, or the “no free lunch” law. It’s a good law that has proved itself time and again – until now.’

Sandstrom plugged the cord into the wall socket. The first meter jumped to life, registering the voltage that coursed through it like before; the second meter registered zero. Inside the device, the centermost golden ring began to spin. As it accelerated, the next ring began rotating, and finally the outermost ring joined in the orbital dance. The spinning rings created the illusion that the bluish globe was floating in a golden haze; then sparks appeared within the orb. The sparks increased in number and intensity until the vacuum within the sphere held a ball of brightly glowing energy. The audience shielded their eyes from the intense glare emanating from the device until Sandstrom took an opaque black cover from the Halliburton case and placed it over the Lexan dome.

‘It does get a bit bright,’ Sandstrom said sympathetically as several members of the audience blinked their eyes. ‘If you’ll please take a look at the meter measuring the energy output.’

Several members of the MARC board stood and moved closer to get a better look at the meter.

‘Is that thing registering correctly?’ asked an electrical engineer who’d made his fortune in the computer industry.

‘This isn’t possible,’ said another, straining to believe what her eyes were showing her.

‘That’s exactly what I said when I first saw the numbers. The energy output from this device is approximately two thousand times what we’re putting in. Now, since I firmly believe that energy can be neither created nor destroyed, the only conclusion I can draw is that this device is a faucet and the energy I’m using to create a strong asymmetrical energy field has opened the faucet, and that energy from some other source is pouring through it.’

The room buzzed with dozens of conversations as several people tried to shout questions at Sandstrom. A tidal wave of sound erupted from the normally diplomatic attendees as each tried to comprehend the impact of this discovery. Overwhelmed by the chaos that was overtaking the room, Sandstrom looked to Sean Kilkenny for help in subduing the crowd. Kilkenny, a boardroom veteran, quickly grabbed a microphone.

‘And when Professor Sandstrom finally does determine exactly how his invention works,’ the MARC founder said loudly, demanding the attention of the audience, ‘he will likely win the Nobel Prize. In the meantime, this discovery quite literally changes everything. Quantum technology will irrevocably alter the global economic landscape. The small size and weight of quantum power cells – relative to the energy they deliver – finally give electric motors a huge power-to-weight advantage over internal-combustion motors. This advantage will cause a stampede in the transportation industry as manufacturers rush to exploit it, and a panic in the fossil-fuel industry as they look for ways to cope with this advancement. The last time a technological shift of this magnitude occurred was almost a hundred years ago when small, efficient, fuel-burning engines supplanted the horse and carriage.’

Audience members with ties to the Big Three automakers and the petroleum industry nervously nodded agreement.

‘These industries are mature and established, and possess very deep pockets. While it might be possible for a maverick inventor with a better mousetrap to play David and Goliath with the likes of General Motors, the battle would be bloody and fierce. As much as I enjoy rooting for the underdog in an impossible fight, I also recognize that a young firm, one in control of a technology that promises to change how so many things in our world are done, could instigate a global economic war. The failures of the Asian and Russian financial markets in the late 1990s would pale in comparison to the sudden collapse of the industrial pillars that support our modern world.’

Sean Kilkenny let that thought hang over the now silent audience for a moment as he scanned the faces of so many people that he knew and respected.

‘To his credit, Professor Sandstrom is not an ivory-tower scientist. He cares about the effect his work will have on the livelihood of millions of people, and his concern is legitimate. The manner in which this quantum technology is unleashed on the world poses a very real dilemma.’ Sean Kilkenny then paused dramatically, and smiled. ‘It has also presented us with a unique opportunity. Those of you who know me well know that I believe in the concept of MARC, of the absolute necessity in building bridges between the worlds of academic research and industrial production. This is what I have chosen to do in my retirement, and I promote this cause with the fervor of an evangelical preacher on a crusade.’

‘Amen, Brother Kilkenny,’ one of the board members shouted out.

‘Amen, indeed. My introduction to Professor Sandstrom was no accident.’ Sean motioned to the Catholic priest seated beside the University of Michigan’s President, ‘Father Joseph Blake, the President of Notre Dame, is familiar with what we’ve accomplished with MARC and is very interested in transplanting the concept. I, of course, agreed to help in any way I could. The fruit of that initial discussion is twofold. First, the Notre Dame Applied Research Consortium officially opened for business this morning.’

Polite applause from the MARC board to their colleagues on the ND-ARC board filled the room.

‘Second, as chairman of the MARC board, I have received a formal offer from Suzanne Tynan, my distinguished counterpart at ND-ARC, to enter into a joint venture, the purpose of which is to patent any technological application for Sandstrom’s quantum power cell that we can think of, and to license these applications to any and all parties who believe that they can make use of them. In short, we have been asked by our colleagues from South Bend to work with them in managing an intellectual property that may well be to this new century what the electric light, the internal-combustion engine, and the microchip were to the last.’

The momentary silence that followed the announcement evaporated, along with any semblance of parliamentary procedure, as the MARC board erupted with questions.

‘How’s this thing going to work?’

‘Sean, what kind of commitment are we looking at?’

‘Do we have any projections?’

Sean turned to where Sandstrom stood with Paramo, Kelsey, and Nolan and smiled. He lived for moments such as this.

‘Mrs Quinn,’ he said loud enough to be heard over the din of questions being called out at him, ‘would you please distribute the prospectus for this venture.’

Loretta Quinn, Kilkenny’s trusted assistant for more than thirty years, nodded and made a quick circuit around the conference table, handing each of the board members a sealed and numbered packet of documents.

‘Due to the nature of the information contained in these packets, I feel it is my duty to remind you that this is a confidential matter, and the premature disclosure of any of this material would invite legal action equivalent in severity to the wrath of God. To answer a few of your questions, I have signed a letter of intent with ND-ARC. We have thirty days to review our proposed arrangement and iron out any wrinkles. While we debate percentages and punctuation, I have authorized the use of some of our resources by ND-ARC. If, at the end of thirty days, we decide not to pursue this venture, all materials will be returned and we will be compensated by ND-ARC for any resources used during this period. Most of your remaining questions should be answered in the prospectus, which I request you read thoroughly. In short, this discovery’ – he motioned with his hand toward Sandstrom’s quietly running device – ‘is the future. At this time I move that we adjourn and further discussion of this matter be added to the agenda for the closed board meeting next week.’

‘I second the motion,’ called out board member Diana LaPointe, a respected attorney specializing in patent law and intellectual property.

‘All those in favor?’ Sean asked.

‘Aye,’ the board unanimously responded.

‘The motion is carried, and this meeting is adjourned. Thank you all for coming.’

As the meeting broke up, board members carefully placed the sealed packages they had been given into briefcases, treating the documents with the same reverence one would give an original draft of the Constitution. Nolan, Kelsey, and Paramo moved to the front of the room, where Sandstrom was carefully placing his equipment back in the Halliburton case under Sean’s watchful eye.

‘So, Sean,’ Sandstrom asked as he flipped the latches on the case closed, ‘what happens now?’

‘You go back to work. Over the next week the board will digest what we’ve just given them. I suspect the meeting next week will be a doozy. In the end, I doubt we’ll take the entire thirty days to decide. This deal is just too interesting to pass up. By the way, Nolan,’ Sean said, turning to his son, ‘now it’s official: You’re our coordinator for the quantum project. Your first assignment will be to relocate Ted’s lab off campus.’

‘Something a little bigger, I hope,’ Sandstrom said.

‘A bit,’ Nolan replied. ‘But some of the space we need is for business activities related to your work. Now that you’ve discovered a new way to print money, you’ll need some room to stack, count, and store it.’

‘How’s lunch next Tuesday look?’ LaPointe asked as she eyed her planner.

‘I’m open,’ Conrad Evans replied. ‘Noon at the Gandy Dancer?’

‘Works for me.’

Evans and LaPointe penciled the lunch meeting into their calendars.

‘See you on Tuesday, Conrad,’ LaPointe said with a smile as she zipped her leatherbound planner closed and walked away.

Evans slipped a thin booklet into the interior pocket of his double-breasted blazer and picked up his briefcase. He then scanned the room for a moment, and located the attractive brunette in the tailored linen suit. For Evans – a long-divorced, slightly overweight middle-aged work-aholic – Dr Oksanna Zoshchenko was a breath of fresh air.

A chemist by training, Zoshchenko discovered early in her career that her true gifts lay in administration. Her native intelligence coupled with a skillful sense of diplomacy was cited as the primary reason for her rapid ascent to the highest levels of the Russian Academy of Sciences. Among those whose position in the academy she eclipsed, rumors imputed Zoshchenko’s meteoric rise to her considerable physical assets and her willingness to use them to further her career.

‘So, Oksanna, what did you think?’ Evans asked as he approached the sultry brunette.

‘It was quite illuminating.’ Zoshchenko’s Ukrainian accent was soft, a hint of something both foreign and exotic.

‘Very diplomatic of you. Normally, these board meetings are fairly dull. At least that surprise show-and-tell we had at the end livened things up a bit. Oh, and regarding that, I’m afraid I must ask you not to mention the Sandstrom presentation to anyone, at least until after they’ve published their research. It’s all covered in the nondisclosure agreement you signed.’

‘I was a scientist long before I became a bureaucrat, so I understand discretion with regard to research. I promise I won’t discuss what I’ve seen here.’

‘Thank you, and again, I apologize. This was one meeting I couldn’t bow out of, and I didn’t want to abandon you in the lobby for two hours. Thank you for your patience.’

‘Your apology is unnecessary, Conrad. I truly found this meeting quite educational. Our economy, our way of thinking is so different from yours. We have many brilliant scientists, like this Sandstrom, but no mechanism to transfer technology to our industries. No way to capitalize on innovation. This consortium is a very good idea, one of many that I will take back to Moscow with me.’

‘Well, then, as a regent of this university, I am pleased that your visit here has been a productive one.’ Evans glanced at his watch. ‘If you like, we still have time for a decent meal before you leave.’

‘I’d like that,’ Zoshchenko replied appreciatively. ‘It’s a long flight back to Moscow, and the food served on airplanes is not so good.’

JUNE 7

Moscow, Russia

Marathon flights, even in the comfort of first class, always left Oksanna Zoshchenko feeling sore and exhausted. Upon her arrival the previous evening at Sheremetyevo-2, she returned to her apartment and immediately collapsed into bed. She slept late, then went to an exclusive spa for a massage and to have her hair and nails done, wanting to look her best for her afternoon appointment.

Revitalized, Zoshchenko guided her white BMW sedan up Kosygina Prospekt, into the wooded area of southwest Moscow known as Vorobyovie Gory – Sparrow Hills. Turning off the main road, Zoshchenko drove down an avenue lined with trees and ten-foot walls. The walls were punctuated at regular intervals by gates and guardhouses, where permission to enter the manicured grounds and approach the mansion was either granted or denied.

Though prerevolutionary in appearance, most of the magnificent
rezidences
in Sparrow Hills were actually built during the reign of Stalin for privileged members of the ruling class. During the Revolution of 1917, Communist guns bore down on the forces of the provisional government from these same hills.

The road wound through the hilly terrain, until Zoshchenko finally reached her destination: a large two-story mansion that once housed the Politburo’s longest-serving member. In keeping with the new winds blowing across Russia, the imposing composition of carved stone and brick now sheltered Victor Ivanovich Orlov, founder of VIO FinProm and the nation’s wealthiest
biznesmeny.

Zoshchenko stopped at the gatehouse, where a neatly dressed and well-armed guard checked her name against a list of those permitted entry. After a quick but thorough sweep of her BMW – car bombings by business rivals were not unheard of in Moscow – the guard waved her through.

She followed the cobblestone drive until she reached the ornate, pillared entryway. A pair of well-dressed guards appeared as she parked her car. Like the man at the gate, both were armed, and a flesh-toned coil of wire sprang from ear to collar on each. One of the guards opened the door for her courteously.

‘Thank you,’ Zoshchenko said as she exited her BMW.

She walked a few feet away, then stopped as she had done many times before. She knew the procedure and, because it was necessary, felt neither fear nor irritation. The second guard smiled politely and quickly waved the metal-detecting wand around her body.

‘Welcome back, Dr Zoshchenko,’ the guard said as he switched the wand off, relieved that he’d found nothing.

Personal security was truly a matter of life and death among the men who had clawed their way out of the rubble of Soviet Russia’s collapse and built business empires from the ruins. Chief among these men, the oligarchs of the new Russia, was Victor Ivanovich Orlov.

As Zoshchenko mounted the granite steps to the entryway, discreetly placed security cameras monitored her approach, and a butler opened the massive wooden door.

‘Thank you, Anatoli,’ she said as she entered the ornate foyer.

‘He’s in his office,’ the butler replied. ‘Shall I escort you up?’

Zoshchenko waved her hand dismissively and continued walking. ‘I know the way.’

She climbed the curved staircase to the second floor; sun streamed through the beveled glass of the Palladian window at the upper landing. Turning left, she followed the wide hallway past an impressive display of original masterpieces – any of which would fetch millions at auction – toward a pair of French doors. As she reached the doors, she heard a faint electronic buzz and the click of a mechanical assembly as the door locks released. She grasped the silver lever handles and pushed; the precisely balanced nine-foot-tall doors swung open effortlessly.

‘Dr Zoshchenko, welcome back. You had a pleasant trip, I hope?’ Irena Cherny asked politely as Zoshchenko entered the anteroom.

Cherny was a petite woman in her early thirties and attractive in a refined, classical sense. Orlov had an eye for beauty, both in art and women, and surrounded himself with the best of both. Zoshchenko had no way of knowing whether Cherny provided any intimate personal services to her employer, but she hoped that a man of Orlov’s intelligence knew enough not to cross that line with a woman positioned at the heart of his business empire.

‘My trip went well, Irena,’ Zoshchenko replied without elaboration. ‘Thank you for asking. Can he see me now?’

‘Victor knows you’re here, but he’s on the line with Zurich. It should only be a moment.’

Cherny glanced at the multiline phone on her desk as one of the illuminated buttons blinked off. ‘I’ll take you in now.’

Zoshchenko passed the hand-carved desk where Cherny sat, and followed the young woman to the pair of leaded-glass doors that led to Orlov’s office. Cherny twisted the silver handles and stood aside to allow Zoshchenko to enter, then drew the doors closed.

The office occupied more than fifty square meters of the second floor. Through a bank of windows that had been reglazed with Armorlite three centimeters thick, Orlov enjoyed a commanding view of the Moskva River and Luzhniky Park on the opposite bank. In the distance, off to the right, Zoshchenko saw the towers and gilded onion domes of the Kremlin.

Near the far wall, at the focus of the opulent room, sat a massive inlaid wooden desk that supported a slab of polished white marble. Behind this island of wood and stone, Orlov stood looking down at the financial information displayed on a thin flat computer screen. He wore a custom-made charcoal suit that complemented his trim physique. Orlov kept his graying, sandy brown hair close cropped and neat, more a matter of function than any overt sense of style, which further enhanced his aura of precision and discipline.

‘Oksanna, my love, you have returned to me.’

Orlov walked around the marbletop desk and greeted her with a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

Zoshchenko returned the embrace, and then allowed her hands to slide down Orlov’s back until they reached his buttocks. She pulled his body close and kissed him with deliberate intensity. Several minutes seemed to pass before either surfaced for air.

‘I missed you, Victor,’ Zoshchenko declared softly.

‘I noticed,’ Orlov replied, a flush on his face.

At fifty-three, Victor Ivanovich Orlov was arguably one of the most powerful men in Russia. In the years since the collapse of communism, the former government trade analyst had amassed a fortune conservatively estimated at nearly fifteen billion dollars. He leveraged several of his highly placed connections in the international finance community and established the first privately held bank in Russia. With the backing of his own bank, he then stormed the Russian industrial landscape, acquiring controlling interests in more than twenty formerly state-owned enterprises. His businesses now included banking, mining, oil and gas, aircraft, shipping, telecommunications, real estate, and mass media. The ongoing crises in the Russian economy had only served to bolster his position by weeding out the lesser oligarchs.

‘I still fantasize about that desk of yours, Victor.’

Orlov eyed the pristine marble surface, indulging himself in a little mental imagery. ‘Ah, but sadly not today. Let’s sit and have some tea while you tell me what has brought you here so urgently. Irena said you mentioned a business matter that we needed to discuss.’

They sat down on a couch near the windows overlooking Leninskiy Prospekt and the park beyond. A silver tea service rested on a low table in front of them. Orlov poured two cups while Zoshchenko composed her thoughts.

‘Victor, over the past ten years I have provided you with valuable information regarding state industries and natural resources. For my part, I have been paid very well and I have no complaints about our business arrangement.’

Orlov sipped his tea, quietly studying Zoshchenko as she spoke. From her position within the Academy of Sciences, Zoshchenko had identified a number of opportunities that Orlov had exploited in building his vast business empire. He had made Zoshchenko a millionaire several times over in compensation for her efforts.

‘During my visit to the United States, I uncovered something, an opportunity unlike anything I have ever brought you before. I learned of a physicist who is about to change the world. His name is Ted Sandstrom.’

Orlov said nothing as Zoshchenko described Sandstrom’s work and the quantum energy device. The gift of an eidetic memory allowed her to accurately describe even the most minute details of what she had seen at the MARC board meeting. The pace of her narrative quickened with her excitement, and after twenty almost breathless minutes, she reached the end of her story.

‘So, at some point during the next month, the consortia from Michigan and Notre Dame will join forces to manage this technology?’ Orlov asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And, as yet, no scientific papers have been published and no patents have been applied for?’

‘Again, yes. Lawyers are to begin work on the patent applications later this summer. The patent filing for the original device will occur this fall, well within the timeframe in which Sandstrom will put his idea into use. Sandstrom and the consortia are maintaining a very low profile regarding this project. And with good reason.’

‘So, very few people know about Sandstrom’s work?’

‘I would say no more than thirty, but only Sandstrom and his associate Paramo actually know how to construct one of these quantum energy devices.’

‘What value would you place on Sandstrom’s work? What is it worth?’

‘This isn’t an oil field or a diamond mine, Victor. What we’re looking at is an entirely new industry in the moments just before its birth, an industry with a multibillion-dollar potential. These consortia are planning to serve as midwife and guardian of this nascent technology, but as the Americans are so fond of saying: Possession is nine-tenths of the law. If a scientist working for one of your companies announced this discovery first, then you would own this technology. I believe there is an opportunity here, if you act quickly.’

Orlov sat silent for several minutes, digesting everything Zoshchenko had said and extrapolating possible scenarios.

‘This could work,’ Orlov said objectively, ‘but I’ll need a good physicist, someone capable of understanding this quantum technology. I have a building on the outskirts of Moscow that should suit our needs for this endeavor.’

Reaching over the arm of the couch, Orlov pressed the intercom button on the phone that sat on the end table.

‘Irena, I need you to cancel the rest of my appointments for the week.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Cherny replied.

‘I also need you to contact Dmitri Leskov. Tell him to come here immediately. Have my cook prepare dinner for three and have it brought to my office; I’ll be working late tonight.’