LITMIR.BIZ

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nightly news goes live in about three minutes. Let’s tune in and see how badly the media is going to fuck this case for us.”

      He stormed out of the conference room with O’Malley on his heels. Finley gave Avery an apologetic look and then followed out after them. Ramirez looked at the letter over Avery’s shoulder with a shake of the head.

      “You think this guy is deranged or just wants us to think he’s nuts?” he asked her.

      “I’m not sure yet,” she said, rereading the cryptic letter. “But I do know that this lab is the perfect place to start.”

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      Esben Technologies was disguised among other normal-looking buildings about a mile and a half away from the Prudential Center, the block essentially a row of featureless gray buildings. Esben Technologies occupied the center building and looked exactly like the surrounding buildings – it hardly seemed like a lab.

      As Avery stepped inside with Ramirez, she noticed the front lobby consisted of little more than a gorgeous wooden floor, highlighted by morning sun that poured in through a skylight overhead. A huge desk sat along the far wall. On one end, a woman was typing into a computer. On the other end, another woman was writing something down on a form of some kind. When Avery and Ramirez entered, this woman looked up and gave them a perfunctory smile.

      “I’m Detective Avery Black and this is Detective Ramirez,” Avery said as she approached the woman. “We’d like to have a word with whoever is in charge here.”

      “Well, the supervisor of the whole outfit lives in Colorado, but the man that sort of runs the ship here in the building should be in his office.”

      “He’ll do just fine,” Avery said.

      “One moment,” the receptionist said, getting to her feet and walking through a large oak door at the far side of the room.

      When she was gone, Ramirez stepped close to Avery, keeping his voice low from the other woman who remained at the desk behind her laptop.

      “Did you even know this place was out here before yesterday?” he asked.

      “No clue. But I guess the low profile makes sense; technology centers that are tied to colleges but aren’t actually on campus generally try to keep a low profile.”

      “More Discovery Channel?” he asked

      “No. Good old research.”

      A little less than a minute passed before the woman returned. When she did, there was a man with her. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and khakis. A long white coat that resembled the sort doctors often wore partially covered it all. He wore an expression of worry and concern that seemed to be magnified by the glasses he wore.

      “Hi there,” he said, stepping toward Avery and Ramirez. He extended his hand for a shake and said, “I’m Hal Bryson. What can I do to help you?”

      “You’re the supervisor here?” Avery asked.

      “More or less. There are only four of us that work here. We sort of rotate in and out but yes, I oversee the experiments and data.”

      “And what sort of work is done here?” Avery asked.

      “Quite a lot,” Bryson said. “At the risk of seeming demanding, if you could perhaps let me know why you’ve come here, I can probably be a bit more exact.”

      Avery kept her voice low, not wanting the women at the desk to hear her. And since it was clear that Bryson had no intention of inviting them back beyond the door to the lobby, she figured they’d have to just have the conversation right then and there.

      “We’re dealing with a case where a suspect seems to have an interest in ice and cold temperatures,” she said. “He sent a taunting letter to the precinct yesterday. We’re taking a chance to see if there might be some sort of research that goes on here that could be related. It’s a very strange case so we’re starting with the only clue we really have – the cold.”

      “I see,” Bryson said. “Well, there are indeed a few experiments that take place here that involve extremely cold temperatures. I could take you back into the lab to show you but I’d have to insist that you are fully sanitized and put on the appropriate covering.”

      “I appreciate that,” Avery said. “And maybe we will take you up on it later. Hopefully, we won’t have to. Could you just give us the abridged version of some of these tests?”

      “Of course,” Bryson said. He seemed quite pleased to be able to help, taking on the manner of an expressive teacher as he started to explain things. “The bulk of tests and work we do here that involve frigid temperatures involves getting beyond what is known as the quantum back action limit. That limit is a temperature just barely above absolute zero – roughly ten thousand times colder than the temperatures you’d encounter in the vacuum of space.”

      “And what’s the purpose of such work?” Avery asked.

      “To aid in the research and development of hypersensitive sensors for more advanced work. It’s also a great avenue to understanding the structure of certain elements and how they respond to such extreme temperatures.”

      “And you’re able to reach those temperatures here in this building?” Ramirez asked.

      “No, not in our labs. We’re working as sort of an outreach for the National Institute of Standards and Technology in Boulder. We can get relatively close here, though.”

      “And you say there are only four of you,” Avery said. “Has it always been that way?”

      “Well, there were five of us until about a year ago. One of my colleagues had to step down. He was starting to have headaches and other health issues. He really just wasn’t well.”

      “Did he step down of his own accord?” Avery asked.

      “He did.”

      “And could we have his name, please?”

      A little concerned now, Bryson said: “His name was James Nguyen. But please forgive me for saying so…I very seriously doubt he’s the man you’re after. He was always very kind, polite…a quiet man. Sort of a genius, too.”

      “I appreciate your candidness,” Avery said, “but we have to follow up with whatever avenues are presented to us. Would you happen to know how we can get in touch with him?”

      “Yes, I can get that information for you.”

      “When did you last speak with Mr. Nguyen?”

      “It’s been at least…oh, I don’t know…eight months ago I’d say. Just a call to see how he was doing.”

      “And how was he doing?”

      “Fine, as far as I know. He’s working as an editor and researcher for a scientific journal.”

      “Thanks for your time, Mr. Bryson. If you could get Mr. Nguyen’s contact information, that would be helpful.”

      “Sure,” he said, looking rather sad. “One moment.”

      Bryson walked over to the receptionist behind the laptop and spoke quietly to her. She nodded and started typing something new. While they waited, Ramirez once again stepped in close to Avery. It was an odd feeling; to remain professional when he was standing so close was difficult.

      “Quantum mechanics?” he said. “Vacuums in space? I think this one might be out of my league.”

      She smiled at him, finding it hard to not playfully kiss him. She did her best to stay focused as Bryson started back toward them with a printed slip of paper in his hand.

      “It’s above my head, too,” she whispered to Ramirez, quickly flashing another smile at him. “But I sure don’t mind swimming for the surface.”

***

      Some days, Avery was rather amazed at just how fluid and smooth things seemed to go. Bryson had given them the phone number, email address, and physical address for James Nguyen. Avery had placed a call

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