Unpopular Science

Mark Howard quickly opened the unit and didn’t have to dial into Folcroft, because the line was ringing in.

“Remo, I do not appreciate this disrespect,” Smith said insistently.

“I don’t appreciate being treated like your errand boy.”

“You have an obligation—”

“I have a life. Not much of one outside of CURE, but it is a little tiny one. How did that fit into this whole thing?”

“Not at all,” Smith intoned angrily.

“That’s what I thought,” Remo said and closed the computer again, so fast Mark Howard couldn’t begin to stop him.

“Remo!” He opened it swiftly.

“Take a letter, Junior.”

“What?” The computer made a distinctly insistent and lemony beeping.

“Answer that, Junior, and I’ll turn the computer off again, permanently.”

Mark heard it in Remo’s voice—this was not any I kind of kidding around. “I can’t ignore Dr. Smith.”

“‘Dear Dr. Emperor Smitty.’ Type it exactly as I say it, Junior.”

Mark Howard sighed and typed.

“‘Please refer to my previously stated conditions for continuing this conversation.”’

“What previously stated conditions?” Mark demanded.

“It’s not to you. You don’t need to know.”

“If I don’t understand. I’m sure Dr. Smith won’t.”

“Fine. ‘Conditions are as follows.’ Type that. ‘Conditions are as follows. Dr. Smith will give Remo no crap and Remo defines what is crap. Otherwise Remo gets off the plane.’”

“You can’t get off…”

“Send it.”

Mark sent it. A few minutes later an email came back. “Will discuss only the current assignment.”

“I don’t trust him, but I’ll give him another chance.” It was a cold, cold Dr. Smith who came back on-line when Mark reconnected.

“This is the situation, Remo, as of this moment.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m here,” Remo said.

“Good.”

Remo could almost feel the unspoken sarcastic comment that was something like, “I thought maybe you got off the plane.” Let the old fart stew.

“There has been a number of thefts in recent months that defy explanation. The targets have all been research labs for U.S. defense industries.”

“Explain ‘defy explanation,”’ Remo said.

“I will. In four recent cases research labs in the southwestern United States have been burgled.”

“Burgled?”

“Burgled. Defenses penetrated by an individual with rather startling capabilities. These are among the most highly secure laboratories anywhere, designed to be j impenetrable by an army or even a skilled special- forces unit. Still, someone broke into each of them and made off with valuable military technology.”

“How?”

“We think we have a partial answer to that,” Smith said. His voice had ceased being icy and was now simply frosty. “Here’s how it happened. Mark?”

Mark typed on the computer and quickly brought a computer-generated graphic onto the wide screen. The pale yellow map had light brown broken lines for the state borders of Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Utah and Colorado. There was a red dot in each state for the capital city, but there was nothing for the Sun On Jo reservation. Remo was already wishing he was back there. He felt cheated.

“What’s with the slide show?” he asked. “I don’t usually get the whole secret-agent briefing.”

“One reason, we have time,” Smith said dryly. “For another, it is pertinent, as you’ll see. Mark?”

“Mark?” Remo echoed.

Mark shot Remo a dark look and fiddled with the keys of the computer, bringing up a small blinking star. “This was three weeks ago. A technology firm was hit about ten miles south of Flagstaff. The laboratory was ransacked and the company mainframes were destroyed. One hard drive was stolen, as well as test materials. Then the lab was burned to the ground.”

“Somebody really hated that lab, I guess,” Remo said.

“Someone was very determined to steal the technology the firm was developing for the U.S. military, and they were also determined to be sure no one else would have it. They left no usable electronic or hard files.”

Remo frowned. “Didn’t they make backup copies? You know, like on a floppy disc?”

“First of all, Remo” Smith said sourly, “the amount of data the company generated would not fit onto ten thousand floppy discs. The company did make remote backups of their data, but their data generation was dynamic. The material they were developing was actually being formulated using a software that combined attributes of various chemicals and their deposition technologies and measuring the theoretical results.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The software was the real marvel,” Mark explained. “The software was what was creating the materials for the military. A software copy and a six-day-old data dump were stored off-site. The problem was that the hardware to run the software is unique and will have to be rebuilt before the software can be run again.”

“I understand perfectly,” Remo said. “So what?”

“The materials being developed by the firm were for stealth paint,” Smith said.

“Stealth paint? To make your split-level invisible to radar?”