"Why do these facilities all have the same SOP?" he asked, attempting to appear casually confused. "Seems like one could do the job of all six."
"No, no," Hamilton stressed. "It would appear that way, yes, but that is not the case." He retrieved a series of charts from a nearby table. "You see, each station is situated over the edge of a particular tectonic plate. Each plate, over a hundred miles in width, floats over what is known as the athenosphere, or the partially molten substance that moves the plates from time to time."
Chaney was amazed at how fluidly and persuasively the scientist expounded. He was clearly believable, which told Chaney something more: if the scientist was lying, he was a very dangerous man. He waited until Hamilton completed his lesson in geophysics.
"I see," Chaney nodded. "Then why do you think there have been so many casualties over the past two weeks? Surely this kind of information isn't worth an incident. In fact, our adversaries are probably doing the same to us. Monitoring our activities, I mean."
"Oh, I can assure you that they are," Hamilton said, and Chaney noticed that the scientist was remarkably fit for his age. Although he must have been in his sixties, his face was smooth, almost unwrinkled, and had remarkable color and tone. In fact, Chaney didn't know if he'd ever seen someone of Hamilton's age in such remarkably good physical condition. Even seated, the man had obvious strength and athleticism. He listened patiently as Hamilton described the "nefarious" attempts of our enemies to use satellite surveillance on the facilities.
"Yes, I'm sure these attempts are… nefarious," Chaney responded. "But that doesn't explain why people are dying, Doctor. I've got a body count of a hundred. Now, surely you have some idea why we have this level of… of carnage."
Hamilton shook his head. "No, Marshal, I am afraid that I do not. I only know that I have done what I know to do. I have approved a special team, some of which you are already aware of, to investigate this matter." He rose, strolling chin in hand. "I am a scientist, Marshal. Not an investigator, such as yourself. So I can assure you, you are speaking with the wrong person. Oh, I understand nature, as well as nature allows itself to be understood. But that type of knowledge is no assistance in a mystery such as this. In fact, it would be a hindrance more than anything else."
"Why is that, Doctor?"
Hamilton raised his eyes. "Because, Marshal, what I deal with, more than anything else, are mysteries. But mysteries that we will likely never solve." He shook his head, bemused. "Even with something as elementary as geophysics, I consider myself an ignorant man, Marshal, despite all my degrees. Long ago, I gave up being frustrated by the profound mysteries of the universe or even trying to explain them. And if I know so little of my own field, imagine how useless to you I would be in yours."
Chaney wondered for a split second if the good doctor hadn't subconsciously given something away. In a heartbeat he intuited that he might gain more by asking about things not directly related to the investigation.
"Doctor," he began casually, attempting to disarm with charm, "you're obviously a learned man. You could probably explain anything you put your mind to as well as anyone alive."
"Oh, not at all." Hamilton turned solidly, and Chaney was again impressed with the man's muscularity. "I am confident that I can explain many things, Marshal Chaney. But the more one answers, the more mysteries one perceives. I could speak for semesters on quantum theory, for instance. Or the force that holds opposing elements together. Or, perhaps, speculate on the origin of thought, or the soul, or life." He stopped in place, smiling. "But that isn't why you came to see me, is it?"
Chaney realized: Mistake.
"No," he said. "I want to know what you think is killing your people. Or why."
"And in that, unfortunately, I cannot help you."
"Well, Doctor," Chaney sat straighter, "something is for sure killing them. So you might as well give me some ideas."
Hamilton leaned forward. "I can tell you what I have been told," he began. "This…murderer, whatever it is, has literally decimated three of my research facilities. One other remains. But if that installation is destroyed, then the entire program will be terminated. Apparently, this…this thing… is strong. Extremely fast. Highly intelligent. And I, for one, believe that it may well be an unknown species. Something we have not been aware of. That is why we've gone to extreme measures in hunting it down."
Chaney stared. "Thing?"
"Why, yes." Hamilton's brow hardened. He seemed shocked. Or suspicious. "I… ah… don't you know details of these atrocities, Marshal? The accounts of this things inhuman cunning? It’s almost unbelievable display of fantastic brute strength?"
"Well, I know that whatever killed your people fought its way through many soldiers at each site, Doctor. But it didn't completely defeat the video surveillance, some of which was recorded at covert sites in Washington. And I believe Washington, specifically the Senate Intelligence Subcommittee, is where this plan to find the creature originated."
"Yes." Hamilton nodded. "We were attempting to deal with the situation internally, of course. But when we were called for conference, we agreed that a highly skilled team was probably the best means of resolving the situation. Obviously, our own efforts had been demonstrably insufficient. In fact, I am on record as saying I had no objections at all to the idea, as long as the National Security Agency could retain full authority and command."
"But the hunting team wasn't your idea?"
"Not originally, no. However, I had no objections."
"Nor was it the idea of anyone inside the Agency?"
"Well, I have no knowledge of that."
"I see." Chaney paused. "And that's when the army and marines got involved? Is that correct? That's when someone from the Pentagon, this Agent Dixon, was assigned to assemble this team?"
"Well" — Hamilton cleared his throat—"there was always a military contingent present at the sites, but only for security. But, yes, they became involved in the more intimate aspects of the situation when this special unit was formed to, ah, destroy this creature."
Chaney carefully analyzed what he had heard. "Tell me, Doctor. I mean, you're a scientist. You know a great deal about biology. What would you make of this creature?"
"Well, Marshal, I would ask you the same thing. After all, you are the one investigating the situation. What do you yourself think of such a creature?"
"What do I think?" Chaney opened his eyes a bit wider with the frankness he felt no desire to conceal. "I would think that he or she, or it, could be classified as a monster, Doctor."
"Yes." Hamilton smiled, suddenly more distant. His ice-blue eyes chilled. "Of course."
The silence was unusual, and Chaney decided to take a different tack. He had already, despite Brick's gold-plated advice, gone over the line.
Now Hamilton knew that he was actually interested and, even worse, serious. He'd decide later how much to tell Brick about his misstep. It probably wouldn't be much.
"Tell me about this team you've organized," he said. "Surely they asked you for input when they designed it."
"Well, my primary suggestion, which I demurely presented, was to include someone of substantial scientific acumen present as an adviser. That, to me, seemed indispensable. The man selected was Dr. Angus Tipler, a scholar of unchallenged genius. I did not participate in the selection of the soldiers; I have little knowledge of them. But I understand they are quite adept at this type of search and… how do they say it in the military?"
"Search and destroy."
"Yes," Hamilton replied, "a search-and-destroy mission. And we have, oh, some other gentleman who knows something about hunting, or tracking. Something like that. I myself am not so familiar with this last individual. I did not consider him important — not important at all, really. So I only perused his file briefly."