Gravity Gone: The Stone Mystery

By Martin Singer

A fusion accident in 1977 creates unusual stones eventually acquired by a bright young man, Ray Holland. Many years later a mysterious levitation event which directly involve the stones pushes Ray to design and create a device called GG-1. He and his soon to be wife Tessa pool their resources and together they begin an adventure in unraveling th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martin Singer
• Release date: Feb 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781734993721

Book preview

PROLOGUE

September 5, 1977

Laubner Labs, Palo Alto, California, 8:15 a.m.

It is to be the initial test of the new Magnetic Mirror fusion reaction chamber. It took some nineteen months to build and over one hundred million dollars. A lot was resting on a successful firing of MGFC1 as some had referred to her. A double stainless-steel cylindrical-shaped chamber surrounded by two large iron magnets. Layer upon layer of one-inch steel plates, wrapped in thousands of rounds of quarter-inch copper wire, surround each steel plate. Designed such that it would confine an injection of hot deuterium plasma in a chamber surrounded by uranium-filled fuel rods. The magnets confine and compress the controlled fusion reaction. It had been done before, but not at this scale or precision.

Edward Lexington would be proud to see his design finally completed, but sadly, he passed away from a stroke, shortly after construction began. His nuclear energy knowledge was remarkable, coming from the Manhattan Project in the 1940s with the development of the atomic bomb. Although he saw more value to his research than to produce a device of mass destruction.

Doctor Del Jacobson was the chief physicist in charge of the setting up and operation of the Fusion Center where the testing was to take place. The control center, operated by seven individuals, was next to the fusion reaction chamber. Since they accomplished most of the checks and balances over the last several days, Doctor Jacobson hoped the first firing up of MGFC1 would take place early on this day. He stood there in the control room, ready to run through the last list of checks with his technical staff. His chief physicist, Don Yung, was awaiting instructions.

Are we ready, Mr. Yung? Jacobson asked.

Yes, sir.

Okay, turn on the cooling system, and bring it up to full velocity.

System on, and coming up to speed, Yung replied in a firm but confident voice.

The room remained quiet, except for a dull humming coming from the direction of the chamber.

Cooling system is at one hundred percent, Yung said.

Okay, slowly bring the magnet up to fifty percent—let’s see if we can keep it from overheating this time, Jacobson said with a hint of skepticism.

Yes, sir, powered on, and warming up, Yung said, as he flipped a couple of well-marked switches on the panel in front of him.

Creaking noises were picked up as components in the chamber reacted to the magnetic force. No magnet of this size and power had ever been created at Laubner Labs, so unusual precautions were made, such that anything in the chamber area that was ferrous was secured or may result in an object flying through the chamber like a missile.

How are the temperatures around the magnet looking? Jacobson asked.

Twelve percent above normal for this power level, sir.

Turn up the coolant flow another ten percent—let’s see if we can bring it down.

Yung adjusted a dial on his control panel, watched as the flow rate increased. It took several seconds, but made it to a 110% flow rate reading.

Jacobson was apprehensive about bringing up the flow rate any further, without knowing if the system would be capable enough to handle the higher rates as any potential leaks that may lead to a critical failure possibility.

Okay, we won’t fire the DT plasma unless we’re stable and within spec at full power on the Magnet. Does everybody understand?

Yung looked around at his team, as they all nodded in agreement.

Okay, bring the Magnet up to full power—slowly, please, Jacobson requested.

Yung made some adjustments on his panel, spun the dial that controlled the magnet’s power level, calling out the readings. More creaking sounds were heard from the chamber’s direction. Cameras were operating in the Chamber Room displayed to the left and right of the central control panel area, but nothing is seen since everything in the room was static. A display on the console indicated the temperature rising as the level of power on the magnets rose.

Okay, hold power at eighty percent, Jacobson requested.

Yes, sir.

How’s the pressure level in the coolant tubes?

Eighty PSI.

Turn up the flow another ten percent and make a note to have engineering investigate why we aren’t able to cool to spec. I thought we went over this last week, and they assured me it would work within spec, Jacobson said, with frustration in his voice.

Yes, sir, Yung said, with no reaction to Jacobson’s anger as he made the adjustment.

Temperature coming down again, but we are at ninety-five percent of recommended, Yung continued.

Go to ninety percent on the Magnet.

Yes, sir. One hundred two percent of temperature limits, sir.

Okay, slowly bring her up to full. His voice pulled back from its normal bravado.

Yes, sir, Yung replied as he slowly turned the dial and watched the temperature rise some more.

Everyone looked at their monitors, then glanced back to Yung, watching him turn the dial. Shuffling shoes on concrete floors broke the quiet of the room.

Okay, hold it there! Let’s see if we can hold this level before we proceed with the firing of the DT plasma.

A couple of minutes passed, and Mr. Yung confirmed, Holding steady, sir,

Start a countdown to firing the DT, Jacobson ordered.

Yung counted down from ten, with the simple press of a button, the DT plasma injection shot into the stainless-steel chamber.

How’s it look? Jacobson asked.

Looks good. We have a stable reaction and moderate heating so far.

Then suddenly, a dull rumbling sound was heard from the back of the chamber.

What’s that? Jacobson demanded.

I hear it too, Mr. Yung replied calmly, although it was obvious as the entire team looked nervous.

It sounds high in the chamber. It’s getting louder. Sounds like a freight train coming, Jacobsen said with concern in his voice. This can’t be good. Start a shutdown.

Yes, sir, Yung replied.

Jacobson knew the fusion reaction process cannot just be turned off and on in an instant. Everything must be turned down carefully, or they put too much stress on the components of the system.

DT flow is off, Yung continued.

Suddenly there was a louder thump, like a soft, dense object hit something hard. A horn started sounding in short bursts.

We have a failure in the primary chamber, Yung shouted over the horns noise. It’s still too hot! We’re leaking tritium into the outer chamber. We won’t be able to contain it.

Seal the building, Jacobsen shouted. Can you silence the alarm? It’s clear we have a failure here.

Yung turned off the horns, but an exterior bell continued ringing in a constant tone. Then the phone on the console rang. Jacobsen answered. It was Doctor Hunt, Division Lead, for the Fusion section.

What the hell is going on over there? he shouted.

We have a major failure here. A breach in the inner chamber, and we’re going to end up leaking tritium.

How bad?

Hard to say right now. Hang on, Mr. Hunt.

Jacobson turned his attention to Yung as he covered the phone’s mouthpiece.

How’s the temperature, and what is the status of the magnets, Mr. Yung?

It’s going painfully slow, sir.

Bam! Another thump was heard from the direction of the chamber. Everyone in the room looked at one another with concern.

I think the inner chamber just fell, Yung said with concern in his voice. He looked again at his console.

Confirmed, we have a breach of the external wall now.

What is the temperature of the uranium rods? Jacobsen asked.

Safe level, he replied with some relief in his tone.

Yung then looked at his other console to his right.

Sir, we have a helium coolant leak. We’re going to have to vent, or we won’t get the temps down quick enough to prevent a fire.

Jacobson returned his attention to Hunt on the phone.

Did you hear that, Hunt? Jacobsen shouted into the phone. We need to vent.

Alert environmental at once. I hope the winds are favorable, Hunt said.

Go ahead, Yung, vents open, get that temperature down.

Fire in section three, Yung nearly yells.

Can we contain it? No one answered, as all were looking to Jacobson for answers. How did that happen? Jacobsen asked.

Loss of pressure in the coolant system overheated the main pump. It’s isolated, so no danger of explosion. Fire suppression system has turned on, Yung confirms.

Can we get a visual in the chamber? Jacobson asked.

Yung brought up the center monitor above his head to show the full chamber section. The room filled with a thick gas, the fusion chamber deformed, looking collapsed at the bottom.

We’re seeing steady improvement in temperatures, Yung stated as he looked at Jacobson, who still had Hunt on the phone.

Jacobsen, are you still there? Hunt asked.

Yes, I’m here.

The facility is in a phase one lock-down. Everyone is to stay inside their respective buildings until the all-clear. Emergency Personnel are on the way to check the facility’s exterior. You all sit tight until the all-clear. Was there a breach of any uranium tubes? Hunt asked.

No, sir, just tritium release is all we have so far. Levels are within short-term external exposure, Jacobsen replied as he hung up the phone.

Well, gentlemen, there won’t be a second firing of this chamber.

Jacobsen’s team just looked at him, nodded with shocked expressions on their faces.

So much for one hundred million dollars and eighteen months’ work, Jacobson thought.

It turns out the wind was blowing favorably when the Fusion Center exhausted its contents outside. A tritium release was detected and reported to emergency personnel in the surrounding communities. Tritium levels recorded a mile from the campus were acceptable for brief-term exposure, but this didn’t leave the community feeling very safe. All is soon forgotten since Laubner Labs is the largest employer in that part of Palo Alto, and most of the jobs are livable wage positions. No injuries were reported. The fusion chamber was too damaged to be repaired, therefore would be scrapped. All the materials were to be containerized and categorized for later disposal. Since there was tritium exposure, they flagged the entire contents radioactive for up to twenty-five years.

New engineers, Dave Holland and Cory Hapner, were put in charge of the investigation into the cause and the disassembly and removal of the MGFC1 reactor. They knew it would be quite a task to manage a team of twenty people in hazmat protective gear trying to cut up, categorize, store what was left of the reactor and not destroy important evidence. They were given six months to complete the removal, a year to complete the investigation.

Dave and Cory were introduced to the site three days after the accident once they deemed it safe. No one was allowed into the sealed chamber area until the tritium levels were well within acceptable exposure levels. Day one, they went to view the accident site, so they clothed in protective gear which took longer than expected to find for Dave to fit his six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered frame. Cory’s problem was more of girth than height, but he found he could squeeze into something usually close to his fifty-inch waist. His long blond pony-tailed hair was a unique issue to get into a hood. When they finally entered the chamber, the destruction surprised them. A major failure in the cooling system was evident. Plus, a major chamber breach due to extreme heat. When they looked down into the concrete containment chamber below the fusion chamber, they saw a scattering of blueish green stones, enough to fill a few drum containers. These glowed like emeralds in the fluorescent lighting from the high ceiling.

We definitely need to separate that component for analysis. It seems odd in this event, Dave said.

Shouldn’t be a problem, Cory replied.

Six months passed, sixty barrels and three freight containers comprised all the materials from the site, which then awaited transportation to the storage site thirty miles away. They completed the project, but it had not been within the established time goal. Dave and Cory were looking forward to wrapping up the investigation and to move onto the new Laser Fusion Reactor under development that was being built in the new Fusion Development Center. Laubner Labs had given up on further development of the Magnetic Mirror Fusion projects due to their costs, since there had been advances in laser fusion reaction development. The Lab was still being pressured to complete the investigation into the cause of the accident, particularly since the US government had invested one hundred million taxpayer dollars into it. Dave was close to completing his conclusions, but felt disappointed that it was leaning toward a design flaw more than a construction-related cause. He had a lot of respect for Edward Lexington and didn’t want to see his reputation hurt by its failure.

Three weeks later, Dave and Cory presented their report to Steve Johnson, chief engineering manager, who was also a member of the board of directors. The report concluded the cooling system was inadequate and had no backup in the event of a catastrophic failure. They also criticized the magnet design as unstable and easily capable of magnet quench issues. Steve said he would go over the report and present it to the board. He told Dave and Corey to take a couple of weeks off, then be ready to report to Building C4, and join the Laser Fusion team.

CHAPTER ONE

They heard two car doors slam shut. Out of curiosity, they opened the door, noticed two men in dark suits walking up the driveway, looking all around. One was significantly taller than the other. Both with short, well-kept hair, and shiny black dress shoes. Ray stepped out first, Tessa followed close.

May I help you? Ray asked, looking eye to eye at the equally taller of the two.

We’re looking for Tessa Holmes, the taller gentleman asked.

I’m Tessa, stepping forward next to Ray. She being slightly shorter next to Ray, but towered over the shorter of the two men, maybe five foot two inches.

Tessa, I’m Agent Sommers, and this is Agent Fitz. We’re with the FBI, as he held out his badge and ID. We have some questions to ask regarding your time with.

He looked over at the shorter Agent Fitz for the answer.

Chemco, Fitz said, finishing Sommers’ statement.

Yes, Chemco, Sommers continued.

I thought you were coming next week? she said recalling a phone call to her home weeks before. Knowing they were coming she had reviewed that last day at Chemco. Remembering arriving early, placing her notice on her boss’s desk, telling him she’s gone. When hearing of injuries and possible deaths, there was no way she was going back. They were rude and stubborn to ignore her documented warnings about safety, and policy. Now an investigation. What can they learn from her when everything was documented in Dallas Texas?  Now, here they are, the FBI on our doorstep, or actually Ray’s doorstep..

Interrupting her thought, Agent Sommers dictated, Ma’am, it’s important that we continue with our investigation expeditiously, and next week would not fit in that schedule.

I really don’t have any time for questions, responding almost out of reflective action.

Her stomach ached as she regurgitated some orange juice from breakfast. I’m going to need a breath mint before I talk to anybody. Wait, this is Ray’s house. Don’t they need a warrant or something?

Miss Holmes, we are conducting a criminal investigation regarding a sabotage event at a facility you worked at. We would appreciate the opportunity to ask you some questions right now, or you can spend the next few days in Dallas. Your choice.

Ray took a step closer to the agents. Whoa, what do you mean, a few days in Dallas? We’re getting married the day after tomorrow.

You must be Ray Holland, Sommers speculated. Yes, Mr. Holland, I hope you have enough sense to not interfere in our investigation, as it may cause a significant postponement in your wedding day.

Wow, you guys just think you can barge into people’s lives and push us around like this.

Mr. Holland, we only need to ask some questions of Miss Holmes, and if answered to our satisfaction, we’re gone. Your life goes on as normal. Up to you.

Ray, it’s okay. Tessa said. Agent Sommers, Agent Fitz, would it be okay to take a seat in the house for these questions?

Yes, Sommers answered, as Fitz nodded in agreement.

Ray, could you set up the table and chairs for us?

It will just take a moment, gentlemen, Ray snarled, still trying to grasp the who and why they’re here.

They all walked into the house through the kitchen, and Ray gathered the table and chairs.

I’d offer coffee or tea, but as you can see, we’re in the process of moving in, Tessa explained.

Thanks, but we understand, Sommers looking around, taking in the surroundings.

Please, gentlemen, have a seat.

Both Fitz and Sommers took seats in the small folding chairs, as did Tessa. Ray was about to sit when Sommers spoke up.

Mr. Holland, I’m afraid these questions are for Miss Holmes only, and I’ll need you to step outside.

What? I can’t stay? Glaring at Sommers, mouth gaped, his face growing flushed.

Ray, it’s okay, Tessa said calmly. Come on, the sooner I get these questions answered, the sooner we can get on with our day.

Okay, I’ll be in the lab, so exasperated to have this interruption in their day.

Ray then practically stomped through the back door, the screen door slapping shut.

Lab? Sommers asked. What lab?

He’s just going to the garage.

Why did he call it a lab?

Agent Sommers. Mr. Holland will be my husband in two days. He is an Electrical Engineer at Laubner Labs, and his garage will be his home lab.

Really? What’s he going to do in his lab?

Agent Sommers, I’m sure you didn’t come here to ask questions of my future husband.

Miss Holmes, I’m trained to ask questions that provide answers to my investigation. Now please, let’s continue with that understanding.

Sounds like I don’t have much choice, shoulders dropping as she still tried to make any sense of these two men.

Now, what is Ray going to do in his lab?

Lab stuff, she leaned back, crossing her harms.

Lab stuff . . . And this lab stuff, are you a partner in this lab stuff?

Of course.

Then you know it’s more than just lab stuff.

I don’t understand how the specifics of Ray’s projects are of any interest to the FBI, and this investigation of Chemco.

Okay, let’s talk about Chemco. We’ll get back to Ray and his lab.

Miss Holmes, how long had you known Mr. . . . Sommers paused again, looking to Fitz to fill in the blanks.

Martinez, Fitz said.

Yes, Mr. Martinez at Chemco, prior to your departure?

I didn’t know, Mr. Martinez, she insisted.

"Miss Holmes, we found correspondence between you and Mr. Martinez at his home, something regarding safety warnings.

That warning went to everyone in production.

So, you never spoke to Mr. Martinez in person or over the phone?

No.

We found phone records indicating otherwise. Multiple phone calls from Mr. Martinez’ home to your office number.

I don’t ever remember speaking to him, and it was a shared office.

Miss Holmes, why do you think Mr. Martinez would call you so many times? Were you working together on a project? Something regarding safety issues at the plant?

No, she insisted. I tell you I don’t know Mr. Martinez, and I never spoke with him.

We found notes regarding complaints about conditions at the plant, and that he had contacted you regarding them. Seems he was desperate to get his point across. From what we can tell, he was in contact with you, and he wanted results with your help, or he would take matters into his own hands.

I don’t understand. I did not speak to this man, nor communicate in any way, she said as she sat up straight, grasping the sides of her chair. You know, it seems to me, you are trying to pin my involvement in this accident, in which I wasn’t even present. I think this meeting is over, and I need to speak with an attorney.

Miss Holmes, an attorney won’t be necessary, Sommers said. An attorney will only slow the process of this investigation into who caused this tragic event to occur. Now, Miss Holmes, when you were in Dallas, where were you staying?

Majesty Suites, room 303.

That is correct, Sommers said, as Fitz nodded his head. Now, a week before the explosion, you received a call from a Mark Hernandez, correct? About seven p.m.? Sommers asked, as once again, Fitz acknowledged a nod and looked at Sommers.

I don’t recall, noticing the odd cues coming from Fitz. Wait, oh yes, something about two men who were quitting.

Yes, and did he say why they were quitting?

Yes, it had to do with a leak detection system failure two days prior—that went unreported.

Now, did Mr. Martinez know about this system failure?

How am I supposed to know? her face flushed. Again, I have never spoken to Mr. Martinez.

Hang on a moment, Miss Holmes, Sommers said leaned over and whispering in Agent Fitz’s ear. He leaned back and Fitz stood up and said, Excuse me.

Fitz proceeds out the back kitchen door, heading toward the garage.

Where’s he going?

He’s just going to go see Ray for a minute.

What for?

I just want him to ask him about his lab . . . no big deal.

You guys are something else. Do they teach you to be like this in the FBI?

Miss Holmes, please let’s just keep to the questions. How long have you known Ray?

Since college. What does this have to do with Chemco?

Miss Holmes, have you seen or spoken with Mr. Martinez since you left Chemco?

No, No, No! she shouted.

Miss Holmes, when you were working at Chemco, how did you get to work?

They had a shuttle?

The shuttle took you to work each day?

Yes.

Wow, how is that possible?

It was prearranged, she responded, growing more frustrated with the questions. Trust me, the shuttle sits a lot, mostly just trips between the airport and the hotel.

Did you ever take a cab?

No?

With a swoosh over the threshold, the back door suddenly opened and in came Agent Fitz. He sat down, leaned over and whispered to Sommers.

Miss Holmes, my colleague says that Ray showed him a drawing of a project called GG-1. Is this the lab stuff you were referring to?

Yes, it’s one of his projects. Fitz leaned in and whispered again.

Agent Fitz says it looks more like a bomb casing. How many of these GG-1’s has he made so far?

It’s not a bomb, and it isn’t even built.  We don’t have the money to build it. Now, are we done here, because this questioning is pointless? I have done nothing wrong! Ray has done nothing wrong. I don’t know Martinez, Hernandez, or anything else concerning what happened at Chemco.

You know about the explosion, don’t you? Sommers asked.

Oh my God, of course. It was all over the news. I worked there. I knew people that were injured.

So, you do know Mr. Hernandez and Martinez, Sommers insisted.

No, I don’t.

Okay, Miss Holmes, I think we’re done for today.

Agent Sommers and Agent Fitz stood up, as did Tessa.

Do you have a number we can reach you? Sommers asked.

No. We don’t have a phone yet.

Miss Holmes, what is that over there? Sommers asked pointing to the wall in the kitchen, where a phone hung.

That must have been installed today or was already here. I don’t know the number.

Well here, tell you what, when you know the number, call my office, and let them know, handing her his business card. Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch.

Both agents slowly went out the back door and proceeded to their Ford Crown Victoria, then backed out of the driveway.

Tessa watched as they drove away. Just like that, this nightmare was apparently over, Tessa thought.

She raced to the garage to check on Ray. Ray was sitting on the floor with his face in his hands.

Ray, what’s wrong?

Oh, nothing.

Nothing? Then why are you sitting on the floor with your face in your hands?

I think we are in trouble.

What do you mean?

The FBI. They are going to be a pain in my ass . . . I mean our ass. I swear, they poke their nose in the most inappropriate places. They have no idea what GG-1 is, nor do we really, but they are off on this bomb thing, and trust me, they will be back, snooping around.

Trust me, you missed all the fun inside.

How is that? he asked.

Oh, they think I’m tied to this accident, and those involved somehow. Names and numbers, you know.

Did they figure anything out?

Are you kidding me? I don’t see how I have any part of what they are chasing, but they are relentless, that’s for sure. Anyway, I’m starved, and we need to go get some bedsheets for tonight.

She picked up Ray up off the floor, and they locked up the house and left.

CHAPTER TWO

Friday morning, the day before the wedding, Ray was just waking up. Tessa arrived home late after their dinner and assembly of a functional bed. Ray figured he better call and see how she was doing. Natalie answered the phone, seemingly out of breath.

Hello.

Hi, this is Ray.

Oh, hi Ray, this is a new number for you, she said.

Yes, it is. Just had it installed yesterday.

Tessa was saying everything is falling in place regarding the house. I think that is wonderful. I wish I could say the same for the big day tomorrow.

Is there a problem?

Oh, just a couple things. The cake, the dress, the flowers. Nothing that can’t get fixed today. We have all day.

Oh, okay, he said. Is Tessa there?

Sure, hang on, Natalie said, passing the phone to Tessa standing by.

Hello.

Hey, it’s Ray.

Ray, where are you? I don’t recognize this number.

It’s the house number, the new one.

Oh, hey, I need this to give to the FBI. Hang on, let me write it down. Okay, got it. What’s up?

Oh, I wanted to see how you are doing after yesterday.

I’m doing as well as can be expected, I guess. Mom is all over the florist, the bakery, and the seamstress. One thing about Mom, she will get it done.

Sounds like it, Ray said. I’m glad I’m just the groom tomorrow.

What do you mean, just the groom? You have a bunch of responsibility. Effective tomorrow, you have me, Tessa laughed.

Ah, come on. How hard can you be?

You just wait until tomorrow night. I’ll show you how hard it can be.

Ray pausing, then blushed.

Are you still there? she asked. Are you afraid now?

No, no, all good now, Ray said, as he was trying to recover from his embarrassment.

Oh, doorbell, Tessa interrupted. Seamstress is here with the dress. I need to go. Don’t forget rehearsal dinner at five. Be at the church at four.

Got it.

Later that afternoon, Ray pulled into the Church parking lot, right on time. He counted eight cars. It was warm out, close to eighty degrees. That might explain why not a soul was visible in the blaring sun outside. Ray thought he had done well, with dark slacks, and a short sleeve light blue dress shirt. Opening the large, heavy oak door to the Park Hills Methodist Church, he walked through the foyer and into the sanctuary. There, he noticed everyone sitting in the last few rows of pews. Tessa was sitting next to her mom, but she stood up immediately when she saw him. She looked great in a knee-length blue knit dress and thin white jacket. Her long brown sleek hair tied back in a ponytail, definitely wearing makeup. She looked stunning. Running up to him, arms stretched out, she gave him a hug and kiss.

Oops. I think I’m supposed to wait until tomorrow for that.

Ray smiled in appreciation.

I think it’s okay, he whispered, blushing slightly.

Just then, Pastor Marshall, dressed in beige khakis and a bright hibiscus flowered short-sleeved shirt, came walking down the aisle and stood before everyone. He asked for introductions, which followed. Then he introduced a couple of members of his staff that will work behind the scenes. He ran down the list of expectations, then led everyone to the front of the church and up on the steps of the podium. He asked Ray and Tessa to come forward to talk with them about the process. Natalie spoke up a couple times, wanting clarification, but her husband, Chuck, seemed to reduce the number of times she wanted to interrupt. Pastor Marshall finished up and asked for questions. There were none, so he dismissed the group. They all left the church and headed to Torenzo’s, a local Italian restaurant. Tessa joined Ray in his car.

Well, that went well, don’t you think? Ray asked.

I think so. I’m getting nervous now. Not sure why? I had this dream last night the FBI showed up and interrupted the ceremony. My dad had to stop my mom from making a scene and getting arrested. What a nightmare.

That would be.

I was thinking over the questions they asked and came to a possible conclusion, she said.

What was that?

I think someone at Chemco is deliberately trying to frame me. They must have found my reports on the safety issues. They never mentioned them, though. It was all about my communication with Martinez and Hernandez, which never occurred.

Maybe if they come out again, we hire an attorney.

I agree, Ray said.

I should wait to give them your phone number until after tomorrow. I really don’t want any interruptions for the next twenty-four hours, Tessa said.

I totally agree.

After dinner and drinks, several toasts to the bride and groom, everyone headed out. Tessa once again rode in Ray’s car.

Tessa, don’t stay out too late, Natalie said from across the parking lot. You need your rest.

Yes, Mother, she answered politely.

Where are we going? Ray asked as they pulled out of the parking garage.

Did you see the Ford Crown Vic?

Ford …Crown Vic? he asked.

Yes, in the parking lot. Dark, four doors, and two well-dressed men inside, dark suits, white shirts, ties. That had to be Sommers and Fitz again, she said. Don’t they have anything better to do than stalk us?

What do they want? Ray asked.

Don’t know. Turn right up here, pull in the drive-thru.

Ray did, and Tessa watched the street.

Look, there they go. Right on by, she said.

"Well, if they