Jarek sat down and took a hearty swig of water before continuing.
“Naturally, the site had been classified since the Pinetree years. But in 1991 it acquired its new name and disappeared from regular military and Congressional oversight.” He paused. “It entered the shadow realm.”
“And you have no idea why?”
Jarek shook his head. Aiden believed him.
“What about the other quiver kids? My father’s letter said there were seven of us.”
“All born around the same time, a year or so after Tau Nine-One’s inception. However, yours is the first evidence I’ve heard to suggest that the experiment was related to psychic abilities.”
“Do you know the identities of the others?”
“No.”
“Why did the experiment end?”
“Same reason your father mentioned in his letter. Some higher-ups at the Pentagon or White House got wind of it.” Jarek’s face darkened. “Illicit human experimentation, I’m sorry to say, occurred far too often throughout the Cold War years and even after. I suspect the powers-that-be were mortified by the possibility of a public relations disaster if word leaked out.”
Aiden could envision the headlines: Pentagon Conducting Secret Tests on Helpless Babies. The outrage would have been potent, maybe enough to bring down an administration.
“I found some information online,” Aiden said. “Tau Nine-One is run by DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. A website that tracks secret government programs claims they work on advanced chemical warfare. But another site says its real purpose is to build the next generation of robotic combat systems.”
“It’s possible neither of those is true. A black facility like that might employ an aggressive disinformation campaign, leak false clues to cover up its real function. The tactic is quite common.”
“Another strange thing. There aren’t any roads leading there, and only a few fire trails in the general area. Access is either by helicopter or by a private train that shuttles workers to and from the nearest town.”
“That alone should indicate its level of secrecy.”
“So if a former guinea pig shows up on their front stoop, you don’t think they’d welcome him back?”
Jarek’s frown implied that Aiden was insane for even suggesting such an idea.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to storm the ramparts. But one way or another, I’m going to find out what was done to me in that place. Can you help? Make some inquiries?”
Jarek squirmed in his chair. “I’m sorry, Aiden. I can’t. It would only serve to put me under the microscope and invite unwanted scrutiny.”
“Afraid that the guys in the black SUVs will haul you away for a waterboarding vacation?”
“That’s not quite how it works. But if I were to be investigated, U-OPS could suffer political fallout. Tau, Area 51, various cyberwarfare efforts, other highly classified programs – we all compete for funding. There are constant behind-the-scenes power plays to gain larger shares of the black ops budget. U-OPS is a tiny player and we’ve already undergone steep cuts. I can’t risk further economic vulnerability.”
“OK, so how about just pointing me in the right direction? I’ll keep your name out of it. No one would ever know.”
Jarek warmed to the idea and scribbled a name, phone number and Baltimore address on a note and handed it to Aiden.
“A friend and former colleague. I don’t believe he was involved directly in the quiver kids experiment. But he was definitely at Tau Nine-One during that period. He might be willing to talk. Off the record, of course.”
“Naturally.”
“By the way, have you given any more thought to our last discussion? The current research downstairs is quite exciting. I’d love to have you involved again.”
Jarek’s desire to have Aiden back within the U-OPS fold was the reason he’d been given the colleague’s name, as well as the higher fee for the chunkie. The Doc wanted reciprocation.
“Sorry, but I can’t be a lab rat for you right now.”
Jarek looked disappointed. Aiden threw him a bone.
“But after I get this Tau Nine-One business figured out we can talk some more.”
“Fair enough.”
Jarek ushered him to the receptionist’s office. He peeled $400 in twenties from a lockbox in the desk and handed it to Aiden. At the front door, he had a final warning.
“Be careful. What your father said in that letter is correct. Tau Nine-One is dangerous territory.”
“I’ll watch my ass. Oh, and have fun with the new chunkie. Just don’t try making toast.”
TEN
Aiden called the number Jarek had provided when he was back in the car and on his way out of Georgetown. A woman answered. She said her husband was at Towson University in suburban Baltimore and gave him that number. After ping-ponging through an automated phone tree, Aiden reached his quarry.
Dr Edward Marsdale had retired from the university but remained a professor emeritus in the geosciences department, where he specialized in stratigraphy, the study of rock strata. He still maintained an office on campus.
Aiden kept the reason for his call vague, saying only that he was a friend of Abel Jarek and that he’d like to discuss a science project. He thought that was fuzzy enough to get him through the front door.
Marsdale was agreeable. He’d finish his work at the university by four pm and would meet Aiden at a small café near the campus. Aiden arrived at Towson early and killed time in a parking lot doing more online research from his phone. But he found no new information on Tau Nine-One.
At the café, he took an outside table amid a handful of young couples. He spent the next ten minutes nursing an iced coffee and observing pedestrians and bicyclists in the outdoor shopping plaza across the street. They appeared to be mainly college students.
A tall, sprightly man in a light jacket and jeans strode toward the café. Thinning gray hair peeked out from under the edges of a Towson Tigers football cap. He spotted Aiden and broke into a warm smile.
“Mr Manchester?”
Aiden rose and shook the extended hand.
“Ed Marsdale. Sorry I was a bit delayed.”
“No problem.”
Marsdale sat down across from him.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Aiden said, still trying to come up with an inoffensive way to dispense with the fiction of wanting to meet about some innocent science project.
“My pleasure. Abel’s an old friend. We met as undergrads at Princeton although I was two years ahead. How do you know him?”
“We’ve been associated for the past several years.”
“Associated? That’s rather vague.”
Aiden hesitated, debating whether to mention U-OPS. He had no idea how much, if anything, Marsdale knew about the secret agency.
“The two of us worked together on a project.”
The professor chuckled. “I’m guessing you’re talking about what goes on in that basement lab of his in Georgetown.”
“You know about that?”
“I know nothing. I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of any such laboratory.”
The abrupt shift to a serious tone left Aiden momentarily confused on how to respond.