Harlan understood. He was obsessed with the same conspiracy. It went by the code name Vortex, and it dated from the days of the top secret Bluestone Project. Bluestone was a clandestine government program that had been established in the latter half of the twentieth century to conduct research into the paranormal. At its height it had consisted of as many as three labs, possibly more. But the entire project had been shut down decades earlier, in the last century. The order had been given to destroy the labs and any records associated with them.
But it was impossible to conceal a secret as big and as dangerous as Bluestone forever. Over the years, rumors had circulated. Physical evidence in the form of objects infused with a lot of hot energy had surfaced. In the case of the tiny town of Fogg Lake in the Cascade mountains in Washington State, the DNA of an entire population had been changed, thanks to a disastrous explosion in the secret Bluestone lab that had been built in the nearby cave system.
The paranormal gases that had been released had blanketed the community in a strange mist. The locals had slept for two days. When they woke up they discovered that things had changed; they had changed. Some began seeing auras. Others had visions or developed uncanny abilities. The paranormal energy released in the explosion had awakened latent psychic talents. The new traits had proved to be inheritable.
“How did you do it?” Lucas prompted.
“How did I stay off your to-do list?” Harlan said. He crossed the room to stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Las Vegas Strip. There was still some daylight in the desert sky—the real action wouldn’t start until night fell—but it was always midnight inside the casinos. “I used the same technique you’re using to conceal the Foundation here in Vegas. Closing down the Los Angeles operation and moving the headquarters here was a brilliant move, by the way. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for a government contractor devoted to paranormal research, investigation and security.”
Victor cranked back in the big leather chair. “You’re telling me you’ve been hiding in plain sight?”
“You could say that. I’ve also been doing a lot of traveling.”
“We sure as hell never figured you’d take a dead-end job in the federal government,” Victor said.
“Good benefits,” Harlan said.
Victor ignored that. “The position of director of the Agency for the Investigation of Atypical Phenomena has been empty for years. Decades, in fact.”
“And no one even noticed,” Lucas added dryly.
“Which was very convenient for you, wasn’t it?” Harlan said. He turned away from the window and wandered across the room to study another oracle picture. The restless energy that had been driving him for days was pushing him, urging action. His intuition warned him time was running out. “Somehow the money just kept flowing. I assume that was your work, Pine?”
“Don’t look at me,” Lucas said. “It’s not my fault the agency’s budget keeps getting approved year after year. You know how it is with government spending. Once it starts, it’s hard to shut off.”
“Especially when the budget of said agency is top secret and off-the-books,” Harlan said.
“Why are you here, Rancourt?” Victor asked.
“I just got this cool job as director of the Agency for the Investigation of Atypical Phenomena a few days ago,” Harlan said. “Like any ambitious new manager, I wanted to get out into the field immediately to see how the agency’s primary contractor was performing.”
“The Foundation isn’t the agency’s primary contractor—it’s the agency’s only contractor,” Lucas said. “And for the record, this is a private corporation. It doesn’t take orders from the government. It has a contract with the Feds, which can be canceled at any time.”
Harlan studied another painting. “The Foundation may not take orders from the agency, but it is happy to take money from it. I am now the person in charge of approving your budget.”
“Are you threatening to cut off our funding?” Victor said. “If so, you’re wasting your time. I’ll admit the government money is useful, but we can survive without it. You’d be amazed at how many eccentric billionaires are delighted to finance paranormal research.”
“Eccentric billionaires such as yourself?” Harlan said. “I know about your private hedge fund. You’ve done very well in the markets, haven’t you? You’ve got a real talent for investing. Still, I doubt that you want to lose access to your government slush fund. And those government-issued security credentials your agents carry probably come in handy on occasion.”
“We can handle the financial end of things and produce our own credentials if need be,” Lucas said. “Tell us why you’re here.”
Harlan turned away from the painting. “You know why I’m here.”
Victor’s eyes glittered. Energy shifted in the atmosphere.
“Vortex,” he said.
Harlan looked at him. “I’m sure you’re aware of the chatter in the paranormal underworld.”
There were a lot of myths and legends linked to the lost labs of the Bluestone Project, but not much in the way of hard facts. The secrets of the Vortex lab were the most deeply buried—literally. In the years following the shutdown of the project, everyone believed to have worked inside the Vortex lab had disappeared or died under suspicious circumstances.
For the most part, Bluestone had faded into the dusty storage drawer of the archives reserved for failed and/or potentially embarrassing government projects. Paranormal weapons? Psychic spies? Assassins who could kill without a trace? Get real. These days no sensible, ambitious politician or bureaucrat wanted to be associated with paranormal research. It was a guaranteed path to career disaster.
But if even a few of the rumors about Vortex were true, the old lab was a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Victor sat forward and folded his hands on top of the desk. He had the intent, focused vibe of a hunter who has caught the scent of prey. “The chatter has been getting louder. What’s your interest in Vortex?”
“The same as yours,” Harlan said. “If that lab still exists, it’s extremely dangerous. We have to find it before someone else does.”
“ ‘We’?” Lucas repeated carefully.
“We,” Harlan said.
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Your father and your grandfather chased the rumors of Vortex for years. And now you’re after it. Why come to us?”
“I’m ninety-five percent certain I have a way to locate the lab,” Harlan said. “But I’m going to need some help.”
A great stillness settled on the room. For a moment no one moved.