“So instead we destroy him.”
Brandenberg wet his lips. “We declare him unsalvageable, sir. The rest will take care of itself.”
“Don’t hide behind words, George,” the President snapped, his features springing suddenly to life. “You want me to sanction a man’s death which amounts to the same thing as holding a gun against his head and pulling the trigger. The fancy terms don’t mean a damn thing to me. They didn’t when I ran for this office and they sure as hell don’t now. I’ve got a conscience to think of.”
“And a country.”
“I hesitate to think what the country has come to if men must die without due process to preserve it.”
“Bane’s become a liability to that same preservation.”
The President rose and leaned over his desk. “And what if we’re wrong about all this? What if Bane went to Arthur with something so big that somebody had to kill the chief of Clandestine Operations to keep it quiet? If we just assume for one moment that it wasn’t Bane who took Jorgenson out, then who did? What did Art learn that mandated his elimination?”
Brandenberg said nothing.
“Maybe we’re thinking just what our real opposition wants us to,” the President continued. “They’ve isolated Bane, set him up as a scarecrow in a cornfield and we’re buying the outfit. That might explain why his body wasn’t left next to Art’s tonight. If they had killed Bane, that would have confirmed he was on to something. Instead, they want to leave us with a red herring. If we kill Bane our troubles will be over, right? But maybe they’ll just be beginning.”
“We can’t leave him out there, sir. If he talks, he could bring this whole government down.”
The President held his eyes closed for a long moment. “Then we’ll do it your way, George. But God help you if you’re wrong…. God help us all.”
“You’ve got the Bat,” Harry’s voice greeted.
“Harry, its—”
“Josh, where the hell are you? What the hell went down tonight?”
From his room in the Hotel Washington, Bane sensed the Bat’s panic. He started to speak but Harry’s words drowned him out.
“You’ve been declared unsalvageable.”
“What?”
“I was digging up some more info on that Einstein connection when word came in over the intelligence channel of the computer. I eavesdropped. Almost shit my pants when I ran the code through.” Harry paused. “It’s open season on you, Josh. Every hitter in the book’s got a free shot and you can bet they’ll take it. Better get back to Jorgenson and have him get you off the hook.”
“Jorgenson’s dead.”
“Oh shit…”
“A sniper took him out at the Capital Center. Somebody’s got me pinned for the hit,” Bane realized.
“Terrific.”
The sweat forming on Bane’s hand glued the receiver to his flesh. “It gets worse. Jorgenson put it all together for me tonight. COBRA’s planning to start World War III and that’s just for starters. Now I can’t even get the information to the White House because every schmuck with a.38 will be in the streets by breakfast.”
“Sounds like it’s time to make it back to the city that never sleeps, buddy boy, and I might have something to make the trip worth your while. I took your advice about looking for a link between Einstein and Metzencroy,” the Bat explained, “and I found one: they both worked for the Navy Office of Scientific Research in the early forties. Metzencroy’s career was just starting out while Einstein’s was drawing to a close. Then I did some cross-checking and found a third name in the group: Dr. Otto Von Goss. Einstein, Metzencroy, and Von Goss must’ve been pretty chummy but their direct association ends on all records as of the middle of 1943 with something called the Philadelphia Experiment.”
“What the hell is that?”
“According to the Navy lines I broke into, it doesn’t even exist. I found it mentioned in passing on all three dossiers circa 1943. It’s the only link between our three scientists.”
Bane thought briefly. “One thing’s pretty obvious: Einstein wouldn’t have been working for the Navy in World War II on Tinkertoys. They must have retained him for weapons research.”
“I smell a connection with whatever COBRA’s come up with that makes jets pull a disappearing act.”
“Good for your nose, Harry. But we won’t know for sure until we find out what the Philadelphia Experiment was.”
“We’re stonewalled from my computer end. But it just so happens that Dr. Otto Von Goss is still very much alive. He’s a professor over at Princeton. Dropped out of active research after a lab accident, something to do with his hand.”
“Maybe I should make Princeton my next stop.”
“Don’t rush. Von Goss disappeared yesterday.”
“COBRA?”
“No, it was orderly. Witnesses saw him packing up his car. Looked like he planned to stay away awhile.”
“Sounds like he’s hiding out, Harry. He’s afraid what happened to Metzencroy will happen to him too, which means he must share at least some of the late professor’s knowledge, possibly lots. You’ve got to find him, Harry.”
“Way ahead of ya, Josh. I’ve already put Trench onto it.” The Bat chuckled but there was no trace of amusement in the sound. “You know, Josh, I still hate that fucker for what he did to me, but I trust him. I trust a goddamn killer who blew my legs to hell and I don’t even trust my own government. Lord fuck a duck, what does that mean?”
Bane didn’t have an answer.
The Seventh Day:
The Philadelphia Experiment
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Are we ready for stage two, Doctor?” Chilgers asked Teke from behind his mahogany desk. His back still ached from smashing up against the console yesterday, but painkillers were out of the question because he needed a clear head.
“Quite, I should say,” responded Teke. “I’ve analyzed the data from stage one and have found few surprises on top of the unexpected inconsistencies. As I suspected, the boy’s power works best when he is threatened. The reason for this, I’ve now confirmed, is that it is activated by his subconscious mind. This explains why the boy’s pulse and blood pressure readings increased while his conscious level of spent energy remained incredibly low.”
“Are you saying he has no control of his power?”
“Not entirely. The line between the conscious and unconscious minds is a narrow one, Colonel, and one that is difficult to define. We resort to defense mechanisms without consciously meaning to. There are conscious forces which trigger the unconscious responses of tears and laughter. The boy’s power isn’t all that different from such responses or from a standard defense mechanism. He activates it when he needs it, when there is no real alternative or that alternative is pain.”
“He used his power to purchase a jacket in New York,” Chilgers reminded. “Quite consciously.”
“And the effort required to do so was infinitesimal for him, easily accomplished at the conscious level.”
“Unlike yesterday.”
“We went too far with him yesterday,” Teke explained. “The pain came from within himself and when we wouldn’t let him ease up, we lost control. We’re all lucky to be alive, considering the splintering glass and the escape of toxic gases from those fluorescent lights. The boy nearly killed us.”
“Consciously?”
“It doesn’t matter. The point is that he, too, lost control. The pain was too much for him.”
“From the shock prods?”